By Julia Caulfield
The Class of 2024 (courtesy of Telluride School District)
The Class of 2024 will gather their diplomas on Friday heading off into the next chapter of their lives. Earlier this week, graduating seniors took to Main Street for the annual Graduation Parade. KOTO’s Julia Caulfield was there with a question for those watching the parade: what advice do you wish you got when you graduated from High School?
The State Attorney General’s office refers to itself as ‘the people’s lawyer,’ charged with carrying out justice for all Coloradans.
That office is led by Phil Weiser who recently visited Telluride on a listening tour to hear from constituents. While in town, Weiser sat down with KOTO’s Gavin McGough to discuss his current initiatives. Here’s a cut of their conversation:
KOTO Radio: Attorney General Phil Weiser, thank you so much for joining us here at KOTO this morning.
Phil Weiser: I can't tell you how much you guys mean to me. It's always a highlight when I come to Telluride.
KOTO: Where else have you been on this trip and what have you been hearing?
PW: This morning I started in Ridgeway and we had a community conversation around affordable housing. This is an issue I've heard all across Colorado, urban and rural areas alike. I'm going to implement Prop 123. There's a number of other measures that are focused on this problem. It is a hard one, and I'm getting my head around it.
KOTO: And from here, you're on to Rico, yeah? What lays ahead for the rest of your trip?
PW: Rico, yes. Obviously, not a lot of population there, but it's a growing community. I'm excited to stop there next. This evening, I'll be in Cortez, where we've had a number of conversations about broadband; about the supermarket merger where there's a lot of concern; and the opioid crisis, where there's now a regional effort to spend the $770 million that we got over the next 18 years in Colorado. And every region in our state is asking, how do we make this happen? We've had more people die in the last two years of overdose deaths, mostly opioids, than ever before. So that's also something top of our list.
KOTO: Looking back on the headlines from the year, the Attorney General's Office, big cases, what are some big projects and milestones? The Elijah McClain case certainly had quite a few headlines. Yeah, anything like that?
PW: Let me talk about three different topics, and you mentioned the Elijah McClain case. The work we're doing around law enforcement integrity and building trust in law enforcement is crucial. That case involved a prosecution against law enforcement officers, against first responders, and it brought to light a series of practices that we in Colorado have worked to address. So for example, a carotid hold — Elijah McClain had two put on him — and they contributed to the cause of death. He was administered ketamine when he was close to unconscious. We're addressing those in Colorado. We've had legislative efforts that we've learned from. We're changing how we train law enforcement.
And the second point I want to talk about is we're challenging a merger between Western Slope folks who know it as City Market and Safeway. This merger in most communities is going to have a big impact because, for example, if you're doing your shopping in Montrose, which I know a lot of people in Telluride will, you’ve got three options for fresh produce and dairy generally. It's going to be going to Walmart, going to your City Market, or going to Safeway.
Two of those merge, that's a three to two merger. This is bad for consumers, it's bad for workers, and it's bad for farmers. So, we're challenging that in court.
I also want to acknowledge a third point, which is I'm suing Meta, who owns Instagram and Facebook ,because of how that company has harmed youth mental health.
KOTO: Mr. Weiser, you've been a public servant both here in the state and with the Obama Administration. You've also been a law professor and a scholar for many, many years before that. So kind of given that experience, what is your philosophy on sort of making this abstract thing of the law have a positive effect for the lives of everyone living here in Colorado?
PW: My philosophy starts with empathy. We need to understand how law impacts people on the ground. When I go to communities I need to understand from people how laws affect them. Hearing from people is critical because a lot of laws leave discretion in law enforcement officers. For example, whether to challenge this City Market-Safeway merger I had to decide how to apply antitrust law. Hearing from people was critical to making that decision.
And take the opioid crisis: what I've heard is how many people were lied to by big companies like Purdue Pharma, and got addicted. We then went after those companies. My philosophy about law is that it's critical that those who have the authority to enforce law be really careful to think hard about the impact of their work, to be in touch with and have empathy for the communities who are affected, and to make sure that we serve the people of Colorado as we do.
KOTO: Phil Weiser, thank you so much for your time today. We really appreciate having you in.
PW: Always a pleasure. Thank you.
Lone Cone Road on Wrights Mesa.
Lone Cone Road crosses Highway 145 just outside of Norwood, and if you turn south it runs straight through pasture land and low shrubs out towards the namesake mountain in the near distance. I meet Terry Lammers there, at a crossroads with a cluster of homes — lambs bleating and chicken scratching in the door yard.
“My dad moved into that house when he was two years old back in 1936,” says Lammers, gesturing across the street. She continues pointing around the barnyard: “there used to be another trailer here. I lived here. Then we moved there. Then we moved down there when my granddad died.”
Lammers moved away for many years, but returned for retirement and continues to ranch and raise sheep on these family pastures. The land just south of us is the site of a 600-acre solar development proposed by the company One Energy Renewables last May.
Considering the project, and the land, Lammers says “it would be devastating — at least to my mindset — having that across the road. I mean, just the destruction of beauty, wildlife habitat….there's just so many better suited places for a project of this size.”
This sentiment is shared by many on Wrights Mesa. Outcry over OneEnergy's Project spurred the San Miguel County Commissioners to place a moratorium on all non-residential solar applications in the County until they could write solar regulations into the land use code. The moratorium has stretched on for a year, and Commissioners recently extended it for another six months, promising this would be the last and they'd have rules in place by year’s end.
“We've had Two Joint Planning Commission and Board of County Commissioner work sessions on the draft regulations so far,” explains County Planning Director Kaye Simonson.
Lammers shows me newspaper clippings which report on those meetings. She pulls out an article from the first work session, which explains the Norwood community turned out en-masse to make public comment, asking that the entirety of Wright's Mesa be removed from consideration for large-scale solar developments.
“So after the January meeting,” Lammers says, “it was pretty much everyone's consensus — or we all thought — that it was a done deal and the Wright's Mesa Rural Ag [Zone District] was going to be removed from large-scale solar.”
Lammers was shocked when, at the next work session, large-scale solar remained a possibility in the Wrights Mesa Zone District. In the current draft, large-scale is any development over 10 acres although that number is in flux as the drafting process continues.
Norwood Mayor Candy Meehan says the county’s reluctance to ban utility scale solar in the area has left a sour taste.
“The residents on Wrights Mesa do not feel like the Planning Commission and the Planning Director are paying attention to what we are saying is not a suitable fit for certain pieces of property here on Wrights Mesa and in the town of Norwood,” she says.
The County has hired Torie Jarvis, a Montrose based land-use lawyer with the firm Sullivan Green Seavy Jarvis to assist in drafting the regulations.
Speaking of the code-writing process, Jarvis says “the preferred approach would be to develop a set of regulations that protects every possible impact from a development. And if you develop a set of regulations that does that. — where every single impact is addressed and there's no adverse impacts to any neighboring properties, the overall economy, or the environment — then it begs the question: ‘what rationale is there to ban something?’”
Jarvis emphasizes those impacts can be whatever the County may wish. The burden of mitigating impacts will pare down applications until they fit the community's character. Such an approach preserves the essential right of landowners to use their land as they see fit, so long as it doesn't detriment the community as a whole.
“That concept is really getting at that [the idea that] you can do what you want to with your private property as long as you're not impacting anyone else's enjoyment of their land,” Jarvis adds.
However, whether the county decides to place an outright ban on large-scale solar or go the route of mitigating impacts, says Jarvis, “really will be up to the elected officials”
There's no question: those elected officials are hearing from the Norwood community. Meeting after meeting has been packed with concerned citizens.
“Mistrust breeds vigilance,” says Meehan. “And I'm afraid that that's something that the Planning Commission, and Director, and County Commissioners are just going to have to accept at this point. Their publications are being watched. Every single meeting is being attended and I don't see that dispersing.”
The conversation here in San Miguel County plays out as the Biden Administration and the State of Colorado are rolling out programs and pledges for a green energy transition. All the incentives for solar are coming into conflict with small communities concerned about the impacts on the ground. This County is not alone, observes Simonson:
“I think this conversation is playing out statewide and nationwide, especially here in the West. Just start researching online; you'll find all sorts of examples, current and recent, where they've had to balance the desire to add to renewables with community sentiment.”
The Colorado Legislature has signaled an interest in increasing state control and reducing local control over solar regulations in order to speed up development. The outcome of those conversations is unclear, but Jarvis notes, as someone working in the field, she suspects there's more to come.
“I think that this is just going to keep happening and it will be interesting at the Legislature to see if they get more aggressive in having the state have a role in regulating,” she says.
Back at Lone Cone Road, Lambert says she appreciates the county's efforts to take time and care with the process. She notes meetings have been productive, informed, courteous and well attended. But looking down the street, she feels the outcome may be out of the hands of county residents and elected officials.
“There's big pushes from the state, that's state owned land…green energy development mandates by what? 2030? I think. So there's just a lot of powers that I don't think we're fully aware of yet, or what we're totally up against.” she says.
The latest draft of the code will be made public by Friday, May 3rd on the San Miguel County website. A third work session will take place on Wednesday, May 8th at both the Norwood Sheriff's Annex in the Miramonte building here in Telluride, coordinated online via zoom.
The meeting starts at 9:30 a.m.
A busy day in Naturita on the afternoon of Senator Hickenlooper’s visit.
It's a stormy spring day out in the desert, the kind of blustery weather which might usually keep folks close to home out in the rural west end of Montrose County. But not so on this particular Friday: the gym at the old Natarita High School is packed with residents who have turned out to address US Senator John Hickenlooper.
The Senator's visit is prompted by a growing campaign asking President Biden to name a National Monument along the Dolores River as it carves north through stunning red rock canyons in Montrose in Mesa counties on to the Utah border.
Earlier this month, conservation groups delivered a petition to Washington, D.C. with over 100,000 signatures calling for a protection of some 400,000 acres of land along the Dolores.
But the tenor out here in the West End is different. Robert Crane says he lived in Dove Creek all his life and has never felt the need to bring protections to the area.
Put simply, he says “when the government can tell people what to do, it's very tyrannical and I'm against that. So I’m just here in support of halting the Monument. Because we need grazing, we need mining, everybody needs a job, and we need common sense to take care of the planet, not things that we don't have infrastructure for.”
Crane's not alone. Everywhere you look are stickers, signs, and t-shirts calling to “Halt the Dolores.” Making rounds as we await the Senator's arrival I hear concerns that protections would restrict access to these landscapes, rob the area of opportunities for mining and economic growth, and as Nucla resident Lorraine Garvey says, attract a flood of tourists.
“And I truly believe that if it's designated a monument. That's what we'll get, is a lot of people coming and going on the highways. And we need some people here, and it's not like we're anti-people,” Garvey says. She adds, laughing, “it's just that we're anti too many people! Because we see that as a detriment to the country[side].”
But what I hear more than anything is that these communities were not consulted on the conservation groups’ plan. "Nobody came to us in this country where the Dolores River is and asked us if we wanted a monument, " explains Mark Templeton.
Dove Creek resident Bill Hampton adds conservationists who have organized to protect the River “keep saying there's tons of local support. And they're talking about people in Durango, people in Steamboat, Boulder. It's not locals supporting it.”
Half an hour before the event begins, attendees file into the gym at the former Naturita High School.
With a flash of fanfare and a bright smile, Hickenlooper arrives and takes his seat at a fold out table covered with a bright yellow cloth in the center of the gymnasium floor.
The Senator and crowd heard from roughly 50 speakers over an hour and a half expressing their concerns over, opposition towards, and exclusion from the Monument proposal process.
Sean Pond, a Nucla resident who has organized much of the opposition to the Monument offered opening remarks. “Nobody came to the ranchers, to the miners, to the stakeholders of this community,” he says. “For all the people you see in this room, Sir, I want you to Halt the Dolores National Monument.”
Only two speakers, it seems, speak in favor of the protections.
US Senator Hickenlooper seated beside longtime state politician Don Coram (left) who facilitated the meeting.
Hickenlooper keeps his comments brief. In both opening and closing, he emphasizes again and again he wants to hear from the community. “I'm going to listen,” he says. “I'm going to come out here, I'm going to spend as much time with you as you'll give me, and we'll work to the best of our ability to try and find common ground.”
At the session's conclusion, the crowd packs up and disperses into the spring afternoon.
Senator Hickenlooper moved on to a listening session in Grand Junction, where the City Council has unanimously endorsed the conservation effort. Conservation groups making up the Protect the Dolores Coalition hope to see Biden name a monument before November's election.
But common ground between those calling for protections and those calling for a halt to the monument may be a long way off.
By Julia Caulfield
As dusk falls over Telluride on cool Thursday evening around fifteen members of the community hold a candlelight vigil for Palestine in Elks Park.
“A vigil is an opportunity to come together in a more spiritual way, a more mournful way, to be able to honor and hold sacred space for the events that are taking place right now,” says Lauren Norton one of the organizers of the vigil.
“Candlelight vigils are intentionally peaceful. Candlelight vigils are intentionally an opportunity to grieve our collective humanity and our collective losses. I hope that even though there’s a sign here that says ‘Palestina Libre’, I hope everyone gets the sense that all we want is an end to violence and an end to our dollars being used to fund, in my eyes a genocide, in others eyes a war, in others eyes a conflict. That, for me, has been going on for far too long and caused way too much harm. The opportunity to come together and see people coming together is powerful for Telluride even in these quieter off season moments,” says Norton.
As the group gathers, people share thoughts on why they joined this evening.
“In my eyes, even if this isn’t productive in the sense that we would ideally want it to be, Palestinians also just deserve to be honored and mourned and thought about on a day to day level,” one member says. “I’m doing this for them, even if it has no impact whatsoever. I feel like it’s my responsibility to at least try to have our voices be heard because theirs are not.”
“Anger does have a place and it’s important to feel anger and anger is like a nuclear energy. It can be used destructively, but it can also be used to fuel good. It felt good because I feel anger,” another shares. “Hope is action. When we throw our hands up, there’s nothing we can do, Telluride doesn’t matter. Then we’re not taking action and we’re not engaging in hope at all. As long as we’re doing something, there’s hope to be had for more peace.”
The group takes five minutes of silent reflection as birds whistle springtime songs, cars rumble along.
To close out the silence Norton reads the poem “If I Must Die” by Refaat Alareer.
If I must die,
you must live
to tell my story
to sell my things
to buy a piece of cloth
and some strings,
(make it white with a long tail)
so that a child, somewhere in Gaza
while looking heaven in the eye
awaiting his dad who left in a blaze—
and bid no one farewell
not even to his flesh
not even to himself—
sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above
and thinks for a moment an angel is there
bringing back love
If I must die
let it bring hope
let it be a tale
The group heads down Main Street, in a candlelight march.
Community members plan to hold more events to show support for Palestine throughout the summer, including a “teach in” to help the public learn more about the war in Gaza.
A snapshot of the back-of-house compost at the Butcher and Baker.
I’m by the bus tubs at the Butcher and Baker Cafe with Rob Kendall, Head of Business Development at Bruin Waste Management. It’s the tail end of Telluride’s winter season and we’re checking out the contents of a compost bucket set up for customers disposing of waste at the end of their meal.
Stepping outside, Kendall admits the contents are disheartening.
“I mean — there were literally metal forks and knives in there,” says Kendall. “Which tells you a lot about people, right? And tells you that if people see a bin they’ll just throw it out. And training people’s nature is tough especially when they’re on vacation.”
Bruin Waste is currently running a pilot program to introduce composting to its Waste Management offerings. The pilot is small: Bruin Collects just once a week from three different restaurants in the area — two in Telluride, one in Mountain Village, and also partners with a couple condos and multi-family buildings.
Compost — a nutrient rich soil which is gold to farmers and gardeners — is made from recycled organic matter: leftover food and coffee grounds, kitchen scraps like an eggshell or an onion skin. In industrial facilities, certain plastic products can also be composted.
But there is a lot which is not compostable. Napkins, metal, the vast majority of plastic. Educating folks on those distinctions has been difficult. Kendall says they’ve tried a number of techniques:
“Really in-your-face signage, and making— I know it sounds silly — but literally making the compost bucket hard to find. So you really have to make a decision to put something in there,” he says.
As we found, those efforts don’t always bear results from folks absentmindedly bussing their tables at the end of a meal. As such, Bruin has hesitated to introduce composting to the general public — the bucket at The Butcher and Baker was more or less an experiment. They’ve had great success with a more targeted population: the prep cooks, and the kitchen line.
“For them it’s a lot less decision-making in the back-of-house to throw things away. Versus in the front-of-house they're handling all of the utensils, napkins, things…there are a lot more decisions to be made.”
The benefit of large scale composting is two-fold: it dramatically reduces landfill waste, and food which is properly composted can produce less methane — a harmful greenhouse gas — than it would at a traditional dump. Then, there’s the product: compost can be reapplied in agriculture, creating a closed loop as it powers more vegetable growth.
It’s catching on. Here’s Kendall:
“One of the major trends in the waste industry is composting. All of the public companies in the major cities are putting in facilities and we’re constantly watching that because our goal is to be a leading waste company country wide. Telluride is the heart of our business and there’s a large appetite for it. So it made sense for us to go into it and we felt like there was an interest in the community.”
Bruin received a number of grants to fund their pilot, including one from the Colorado Department of Public Health and Environment, which takes a tax on landfill waste and directs those funds towards waste reduction projects. Each Friday, Bruin collects compost in Telluride and Mountain Village and trucks it 3xm, an industrial composting facility in Olathe.
“We really want to take our time and get it right,” Kendall says. “So we’re taking our time with baby steps. Where it’s been really strong is in the back of house of restaurants. That is without a doubt the best environment for collecting that waste. Where we’ve struggled to have it take off is in multi-families and in the front-of-house.”
It really comes down to education: how can Bruin teach folks in their own kitchens what is compostable and what is still destined for the landfill?
The rise of compostable plastics, compostable paper containers, and the difference between industrial compost and a garden or farm compost all make those distinctions more difficult. But, Kendall says they’ve seen enough success to push forward.
“We’ll continue to add on back of house because that will get us the volume we need to sustain a program. And we’ll continue to work with multi-families to figure out how to make those programs more successful,” Kendall says.
As the program expands and Bruin continues to truck compostables to 3XM in Olathe, someday your coffee grounds could become next season’s Olathe sweet corn.
And doesn’t that sound delicious!
By Julia Caulfield
Photo by Julia Caulfield (KOTO)
Take a trip down memory lane. To March 2020.
In a newscast from March 18, 2020, KOTO News reported, “with coronavirus spreading across the world, local health officials have been moving fast to keep residents of San Miguel County safe and healthy. Over the past week there have been declared local disaster emergencies, schools and libraries have closed, food establishments are switching to take out only, or closing all together. Now we’re being told to shelter in place.
In Telluride, one of the first things to go was the Free Box. But where some saw a beloved town staple gone, one person saw an opportunity.
‘My name is Brandon Berkel. I’m a local artist in Telluride, Colorado. When you see something you really like you have to just move fast and take it.’
What Berkel saw was a mural canvas.
Just days after the free box was boarded up, the original plywood was transformed into a community art installation.”
courtesy of The Smithsonian Institution
Those around in the early days of the pandemic will remember the free box mural. A cowboy with Tom Hanks’ face, covered in a mask, spraying a large green germ. A quote from Toy Story “this town ain’t big enough for the two of us” written at the top.
“Berkel says part of the beauty of the mural is that it won’t be there forever.
‘The mural will be taken down. The Free Box will be open again. The Town will start moving as it always has. It’s still giving little hope that we’re going to make it through this.’” the newscast reported.
courtesy of The Smithsonian Institution
But that mural was just the beginning. Jump to months later in the pandemic, Berkel, along with fellow local artist Molly Perrault-Daniel created a series of posters, encouraging residents to COVID safely.
“If you remember in 2020, at the very beginning of the pandemic there were some very scary public notice graphics around town ‘stay at home’ ‘where a mask’ they looked very governmental,” says Perrault-Daniel.
She says it was Berkel’s idea to take the energy from the mural, and create posters to soften the blow.
She says the idea was “to replace the scary public announcement posters and have a friendlier approach to these very important messages that need to go out to locals, visitors, to politely ask them to wear a mask, make sure public distancing, all the messages that went out over COVID.”
Perrault-Daniel and Berkel – in collaboration with the Telluride Arts District – created a series of collage posters.
“They’re just funny little animal faces that we slapped on human bodies,” recalls Berkel. “Local animals: elk, beavers, bobcats, fun little western animals. People. Animal people.”
courtesy of The Smithsonian Institution
For months, the artwork hung as a banner across Main Street, on signs along the Spur, as posters around town.
Jump even more years in the future, to now, and those posters are part of Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History archives. The Smithsonian is collecting art and artifacts to preserve and document moments of the COVID-19 pandemic.
“It was spring of 2021, I got a phone call from Ellen Kramer,” Berkel says, “She bought out our posters at the Transfer Warehouse in 2020. She saw that the Smithsonian was collecting COVID art, so she thought it would be fun to donate it and see if she can get her name in the Smithsonian.”
In a description of the art, the Smithsonian comments on the United States’ long history of using posters (humorous at times) for public service announcements, noting Berkel and Perrault-Daniel’s work does just that. Reflecting “both a humorous approach as well as imagery which specifically reflects the community and history of Telluride.”
The posters aren’t on display anywhere (at least currently) but Berkel and Perrault-Daniel say it’s an honor to have their art recognized.
“My grandmother is so pumped. She’s been telling everyone. My family is very proud,” chuckles Berkel, “I don’t have a college degree, but by having this thing archived it gives the feeling that I did something with my education, which was art growing up. It’s like a certificate that I did something.”
Perrault-Daniel, who also works at the Telluride Historical Museum adds it’s not just about them, but the future, and the past.
“It’s a cool reminder that we’re history in the making,” she says, “We’re making history as we go. These posters that we made less than five years ago are part of our active history and people are going to look back on that. And we contributed to it.”
courtesy of The Smithsonian Institution
As for what’s next for the artists?
“I’m just going to keep on making collages,” Berkel says “Cutting things up.”
That way they’ll be ready. For the next global pandemic.
Quilter Lisa Ellis delivering a lecture at 2024’s Alegre Retreat.
In a courtyard of the grand hacienda-style Gateway Resort, way out in the Canyon Country of Mesa County a group of women have gathered to vote on the ugliest quilt.
The quilts are small — the size of a large doormat, and they are indeed ugly — or at least garish, clashing, slapdash. But that’s the point of this particular session at the Alegre Quilting Retreat, explains Instructor and art quilter Sue Benner:
“In a lot of my classes, when I teach layered collage [my students] do the background — because I want three layers [in the end] — and they don’t want to cover it up because it’s so beautiful. So I’m purposefully having them make something they don’t like so they don’t mind covering it up,” she says.
Over the next few days, Benner’s students will work to collage over their ‘ugly’ quilts and come out with something intuitive, surprising, and — perhaps — beautiful.
Benner is an accomplished and widely exhibited quilt artist. Today, she presides over a classroom piled high with fabric, irons pumping out steam, and women stooped over their piecing.
Each year at the cusp of spring, quilters from across the country descend on this resort in a distant eddy of Colorado’s Red Rock Country to enjoy off-season prices and devote themselves to studying with some of the biggest names in the art-quilting world.
Many here are experienced quilters, but not all: Tina Ray is 23. How did she come to Alegre?
“Well, I was trying to learn how to quilt. Because there are not a lot of places to learn it. So I ended up looking for workshops where everyone gathers together, so I could sort of learn through osmosis. And this place was on a list of quilters’ favorite places.”
Participants at the retreat sign up for a single weeklong intensive course. The day is broken by lunch with a lecture to follow.
Quilters in Sue Benner’s class at Gateway.
And, for anyone seeking inspiration, trails and pathways beckon, leading up from the resort into the scrubby footlands above the Dolores River.
The question of what exactly is an art-quilt floats in the air. Delivering a lunch lecture, quilter Lisa Ellis addresses the divisions between craft, fine art, tradition, and modernism.
“These categorizations make me crazy. Studio Art Quilt Associates, our definition is that if it’s original, if it's from your head, its art. This idea that “Oh it’s block-based so it’s not art” — No! There’s nothing that says you can’t make something block-based and therefore it’s traditional and not worthy.”
Many bring finished work to share, and hanging in the dining room, it makes a collection as diverse as can be imagined.
Terrie Mangat of Taos has taught at Alegre in the past, but this year she’s simply attending.
“The lady that inspired me to make quilts was Miss Earl Clay in Carlisle Kentucky,” Mangat remembers. “I got a degree in Art from the U of Kentucky, and she made all these wacky quilts. She lived near a men’s underwear factory and she would make these quilts but she used these wacky fabrics from the factory. And the fact that she put these weird fabrics together made me want to make quilts.
Miss Early Clay back in Kentucky worked without a sewing machine, hand-stitching every piece. Says Mangat, for decades she turned to modern technology:
“I thought I would never have the patience to hand-quilt. But now I’m seventy-six and I find that I love to stitch every evening, and my work is now mostly hand-pieced.”
The process of working without a machine can produce a different sort of product — less polished certainly. Organic.
The retreat occurs beneath the dramatic cliffs of The Palisade Butte in Gateway, CO.
Attendee Barabra Pevny, meanwhile, got into quilting with a close friend after retirement.
“When we got out of private practice together I told her: ‘I need to still see you every week,’ so I went and started quilting with her in her river home on the Animas [River]” she says.
Pevny, who briefly came out of retirement in order to pay the Alegre tuition, lived for years in Durango, Colorado before moving to Fort Collins. To be back in this Western Slope Country for such study and practice — Pevny is speechless.
“I have no words…Boy, you’re gonna bring me to tears,” she says. “I’m a red rock girl. It’s beautiful here.”
Outside, sun mixes with wind and birdsong. There is just a hint of new growth on the overwintering trees and the day is quiet, almost sacred beneath the soaring mesa cliffs.
But if you listen through open classroom doors, you can the Alegre quilters as they set about their afternoon
Por Luis Tavares
El consulado de Guatemala vendrá a Telluride el 20 y 21 de abril. Sintonice a KOTO “Off the Record" en español para aprender más sobre los requisitos que usted necesitará para obtener un pasaporte y otras cosas. Si conoces a alguien de la comunidad guatemalteca por favor hazle saber que escuche el programa.
Telluride’s Art’s District is one of 30 ‘Creative Districts’ across Colorado — they’re sprinkled from Sterling to Grand Junction, Fort Collins to Ridgway.
Last fall when Josh Blanchard was named the new Director of Colorado Creative Industries — our state agency for the arts — he embarked on a tour of those districts.
Those travels brought him to Telluride this week and he stopped by the KOTO station to chat about his new role and his background at the intersection of policy and art.
KOTO News: You come from a background as County Commissioner. Do you have a specific arts background?
Josh Blanchard: I do have an arts background. I started in arts education — performing arts education. Both my undergrad and graduate degrees are in interdisciplinary performance and humanities. And so I do come from a broad arts background and then specifically have a background in performing arts and in theater. I was the Executive Director of a non-profit theater organization in Summit County for a little over a decade.
KOTO: What was it like to bring your art background to local government?
JB: Artists tend to be resourceful, be efficient, know how to get things done in a tight timeframe or with limited resources. Artists also are often at the pulse of what's happening within communities. I took office in January of 2021, and so we were in the midst of the pandemic. And so I think it served me well.
KOTO: What's it been like to come on this new job at the state level?
JB: It's been exciting for me to be able to be in service to the entire state, all 64 counties, all of our communities.
We have an amazing state. It's beautiful. So many resources. So many folks want to be here. And so I feel it's a great honor and opportunity, but there's a lot of work that needs to be done to support the role that the creative sector plays throughout the state.
KOTO: One of your signature programs is collaborating with different Creative Districts in Colorado. Tell me about those.
JB: There are 30 state-certified Creative Districts in Colorado. Certified Districts really serve their communities in different ways, but are meant to be a toolbox so communities have the resources and the infrastructure to support artists, art nonprofits, and the creative sector. Telluride is one of the designated Districts. So we have the ability, of course, to work with the great folks here.
KOTO: Your visit to Telluride right now, is that part of a broader tour of the different arts districts? Have you visited others and what's that been like?
JB: I have! Coming into this role in September one of my goals was to visit the different Creative Districts and Art’s Districts across the state to get a sense of the great stuff that's happening. One of the things that I've really been excited about is to see how each community is different. The Creative Districts really come from within communities themselves.
When we talk about Telluride, Breckenridge, Salida –– it's the integration of outdoor recreation and the arts [which makes them unique]. When I think about rural communities, Eastern Plain communities, we see the arts and service in similar ways. They allow communities to come together, for artistic experiences — for a concert or for an activity. And then, of course, when we look at Art’s Districts in more metro or urban settings — Santa Fe Arts District, RINO in Denver — these are really exciting districts that are very much defined geographically within a part of those larger metro areas. Certainly, they have broader reach, but really [they show] how those communities come together, defining arts and culture, industry, and the economic impacts that the arts can have.
KOTO: Well, Josh, thank you so much for joining us. Do you have any closing thoughts on the state of the arts in Colorado?
JB: In Colorado we value the arts. Study after study shows that Coloradans participate at some of the highest levels in making art and attending art. And it's a part of our DNA. It's a part of who we are. It's a part of what makes this state so great. And Telluride is doing an excellent job. So it's exciting to be here and look at the work that's going on and I'll definitely be back.
That was the director of Colorado Creative Industries, Josh Blanchard, speaking with KOTO News about his new role with the state.
Photo provided by Yonder.
Joanna Yonder has one more year in her term as San Miguel County’s Poet Laureate. But she’s got some plans for the position before she goes.
Yonder stopped by K-O-T-O this week to talk about her final year as the public bard.
But first, she shared two poems. One is inspired by the recent passing of a cherished community elder.
Says Yonder: “These things land really heavily in our community. And I just wanted to make space for that. Meanwhile, I know a ton of people are feeling the swelling of Spring. In so many ways, poetry can be a vehicle for all kinds of emotions. So I have a poem about loss and a little poem about what's to come:”
Hearts go on, they say, and it is true that we're still here.
Lifeblood moving through our bodies one day and one long
inhale at a time — we miss you
and the sky, some days, feels like an unfair
blue because you are not here to see it
all our lives are fleeting as a season. What spans
wider than our earthbound sojourn?
Just the bonds we share.
When one of our own leaves us, we will still, forever, have
the impulse that you're here
right at our side. And we will always
have the notion — still — to turn to you and point towards
the dawn. ‘Look at that,’ our souls say to each other.
‘Look at that.’
_____
‘Flight’
This morning hummingbirds are gathering cobwebs
and lichens a sure sign
they are soon to nest.
New chapters sometimes start with building, sometimes destruction
The nestlings will emerge sometime out yet, but
their mother has a thing or two to teach us.
First: that newness comes from unexpected places,
often smaller than imagined.
Secondly, though it may take time, flight is both a birthright and
a miracle.
Think of this as you are lifting off,
think of what is burgeoning,
the beautiful and boundless thing that is
about to hatch.
While Yonder was at KOTO, she also discussed her ambitions to create an endowment fund for the Poet Laureate position going forward. Below is an excerpt of that conversation.
Joanna Yonder: For the first time ever, our Laureate could be supported by a modest stipend. This position was opened up through the county in 2008. So, it's been around for quite some time and it’s evolved quite a bit since it first began.
I think it's very important to note two things: one, you know, it's 2024 and we're not paying artists in exposure anymore. And number two, when you expect people to do work for free, or even when you offer them the gift of volunteering for free, that work by nature is only available to the people who have the privilege of time to give to it. And I believe in building frameworks that invite in people who haven't traditionally had time free — people who could free up more time if they were paid to do it, you know?
So my hope is to seek funding for this position. Not for me, but for whoever's next, for the next Poet Laureate. So whoever you are out there, hopefully you're listening and hopefully you know that this is going to be a paid thing and it's not lavish, but it's something to say: ‘we legitimize your art by paying it. And also we invite you to create this art and make space in your life for it.
KOTO News: You have done some sort of research into other Poet Laureate positions around the country as part of this process. What did you find out and what did you find out about our position in San Miguel County?
JY: Well, I learned that San Miguel County is one of the first County Poet Laureate-ships in Colorado, which is very cool. Here we are, small but mighty! Way to go, San Miguel County.
I also learned that it's a very different place to place how this works. But in general poets are funded for their time! And in general, the two to three year term is typical. There are some really beautiful programs, like the new Durango Poet Laureateship involves what they're calling a ‘Rising Poet Laureate.’ So the position builds in some mentorship which I would love to see happen in our county as well.
KOTO: You say it's been an incredibly positive experience, being Laureate — which of course — but do you have speculations about what it will be like to be a poet who doesn’t have that calling, doesn’t have that duty to be the public bard?
JY: I think it will change, because I will have a little more space to dedicate to my own poetry projects. Opening up that space, creatively sounds really cool. And I also know I'll miss it in some ways. It's really been such a special experience.
That was San Miguel County Poet Laureate, Joanna Yonder, sharing a pair of poems and reflecting on her final year in the position.
By Julia Caulfield
Wendy Brooks was a matriarch of Telluride. She was a world traveler, a lover of all people, fierce, a north star, a doer.
“My mother created everywhere she went,” says Dylan Brooks, one of Wendy’s sons. “My mother was first and foremost an advocate for children and working people who are raising children. To her, all the people of the world were one community and they should all be brought together to make art and to love each other and to do something interesting. Don’t be boring.”
Wendy Brooks passed away on March 26th at her home in Troncones, Mexico surrounded by family. She was 84 years old.
Brooks moved to Telluride in 1976. Leaving her three sons, Demian, Darius, and Dylan with their grandmother in New Jersey.
“My mom set off to look for the next place we were going to live. She drove across much of Colorado and hadn’t found her place and was heading towards New Mexico. She was driving past Placerville and a barefoot kid of ten, hitchhiked, flagged her down and asked if she would take him to town,” Dylan remembers. “She didn’t know what that meant, but thought sure, I’ll give this kid a ride. She drove into Telluride, fell in love with the quirkiness of the town and the beauty of it at once. She sent for the three of us and we moved out at the end of August 1976.”
That fall, Dylan remembers they had nowhere to live so they parked their VW van in the Telluride campground. The boys registered in school with the address “site #7, Telluride campground”.
Brooks had a can do spirit, a hard worker until the end. Salli Russell, a friend of Brooks, remembers the beginning of their friendship.
“Telluride was a very matriarchal society. If you wanted something done it was usually a woman that was going to start making that happen,” Russell says. “I was in awe of Wendy and what she had already accomplished when she moved here with three young boys.”
Brooks helped create Telluride’s Medical Center, the freestyle ski team, the Telluride Science Research Center. But, to many, she was most known for creating the Telluride Academy, starting “basically in her backyard” according to Russell.
“A place for children to play and yet, have some kind of freedom to be who they were, and to empower them to be who they wanted to be and who they could be,” says Russell.
Brooks’ belief in and passion for those children, was endless. Elaine Demas is a friend of Brooks and former director of Telluride Academy. She remembers when she started the role, asking Brooks to help make sure she knew how to do everything right.
“And she did it without hesitation. Right back in there. Every day with me. Helping me navigate hundreds of families,” remembers Demas. “She had a remarkable memory. She had every family and child in her head. Never had to looking anything up. If I had a question she could answer it at the drop of a hat. She was so generous with her time and her knowledge.”
Brooks’ legacy of adventure, gumption and joy is what current Telluride Academy executive director Jason Merritt says he hopes to continue.
“As the current stewards of Telluride Academy, I think it renews and reignites our commitment to doing the very best we can to continue to realize her vision and to do so with total humility and earnestness,” says Merritt.
While Brooks touched the lives of thousands of children, at the center of that world were her grandchildren, including Julian Brooks.
“My grandmother, Wendy Brooks, she wasn’t mine. She was everyone’s grandma,” says Julian Brooks. “The amount of people I knew personally that have reached out, is such a small sliver of the 84 years that she impacted lives. It’s incredible that a woman can do that much. Seeing her now, at rest, at peace, knowing that she left a world that was lucky to have her, it’s a beautiful thing.”
There will be a memorial service for Wendy Brooks in Telluride later this summer.
The Telluride Academy is setting up a scholarship in memory of Brooks to support children in the program.
Anyone can honor and celebrate Brooks everyday by living a life of love, creativity, adventure.
Emma Renley, left, and Mat Zaremba, right, stopped by the KOTO station to dicuss the latest volume of Poems for Ex-Lovers.
Imagine, working through heartbreak, up late at night wondering about that person no longer by your side.
I lie motionless in my bed,
save for the swipe of my finger
hoping to catch a glance of a stranger
turned to a friend
a friend turned lover
a lover turned back to a stranger
silently waiting for sleep to take me away.
That's ‘Motionless,’ a poem by Telluridian Mat Zaremba, which is included in ‘Volume III’ of Poems for Ex Lovers, an anthology of anonymous works collected from a community of broken hearted writers flung across mountain towns in the West.
The editor, compiler, and designer of this latest work is Emma Renly, who is based in the Pacific Northwest and here in the Four Corners region. Renly and Zaremba sat down with KOTO News to chat about this latest volume of Poems for Ex Lovers and the peripatetic community of writers who brought it about.
Emma Renly: So, ‘Volume I’ took place almost entirely in Moab, Utah, and then the second book took place in Telluride! And this is where Matt also came on to the project.
KOTO: And Mat, was this your first foray into poetry writing?
Mat Zaremba: Yeah, exactly. Writing these poems where you have heartbreak, or you have these pent up feelings was, for me, a purge: a cathartic letting go of everything that had maybe been pent up and built up. And then just moving forward. It was actually a really good release. It was nice.
KOTO: Are you writing right now? Have you continued to write poetry?
MR: No, I'm actually very happy right now. I have a loving girlfriend of almost a year and a half and I've tried to write happy poems, but it's almost like I don't want to lose or purge those feelings that I had when I was writing sad poems. So I kind of want to stay in the moment. I want to stay in the happiness and not lose that feeling.
KOTO: In this third book the community of writers is wider spread than in the first two editions. What ties all of these soul searching people together?
ER: I think the common thread, other than myself, is that we all come from these very small, mountain, outdoorsy towns. Whether it be Telluride, whether it be Moab, Jackson Hole, Hood River, Bozeman…I think that leads to a lot of different experiences in terms of love and loss.
We do live in these very extreme towns, and perhaps that also pulls out extreme emotions too. The pendulum swings quite strongly in one direction or the other, and I think like Matt was saying, you're gonna see your ex or boyfriend around, and so I think the emotions are much more up close and you can't ignore them.
KOTO: Talk about the decision to keep these poems anonymous.
MZ: You're reading the book, it's kind of great. You attach yourself to the poem, you think of your own interactions with other people and feel ‘Oh this poem really resonates with me, even if I don't know who wrote it….’ Because you start thinking about other people — interactions that you've had in the past.
KOTO: For all these heartbroken writers, what's next for them? Is there more heartbreak? Is there a ‘Volume IV?’
ER: I absolutely want to do another book of collective work of anonymous poetry. But no more ex-lovers! This is the third book we've done — we're over it! You mentioned, you know, soul searching and outdoor towns…and I'd love to look more into that question: why do we travel? What is home? Is it a place? Is it a person? Is it a community?
You can order a copy of this latest work, and prior editions, at sockeyepublishing.com or you can check one out at the Moab, Utah, Library.
By Julia Caulfield
“We are a ski town with a hockey problem,” proclaims Telluride Mayor Teddy Errico from the steps of the San Miguel County Courthouse.
It’s a classic spring day, with skies moving from bluebird to overcast in the blink of an eye, and the Telluride community showed up to celebrate its two hockey state champions with a parade down Main Street.
Telluride High School Students, who play on the Durango Demons Hockey Team and make up half its players, became 4A State Champions after winning 4-2 over Summit, the Lizard Head U12 PeeWee defeated Vail 4-3 in double overtime.
Telluridians young and old line the streets, cheering, as players parade through town, followed by a bright green Zamboni.
Grayson Fertig, Executive Director and coach of the Lizard Head Hockey program, says he couldn’t be more proud. “This is what a wild success looks like for recreation approach to community hockey,” he says.
Fertig is excited to see hockey become part of Telluride’s culture.
“Hockey’s happening in Telluride because people are figuring out what a fun game it is. You can’t even imagine, high fives all around,” he explains looking around the parade crowd. “These kids thrive when they’re working together and that’s hockey.”
Fertig is joined in that sentiment by Jereb Carter, a proud hockey dad.
“It bonds the community even stronger. It’s all about community strength and I think it’s going to encourage a lot of younger kids to come up in the program. These kids are going to have a lifelong bond out of this,” Carter says. “Even if they don’t play starting tomorrow, from here on out they had this moment. Look at all the younger kids in the parade following around their state champions, they’re all smiling, their parents are smiling. Everyone is happy.”
Following the parade, from the steps of the San Miguel County Courthouse, flanked by the Championship teams, Mayor Errico says it’s a good day for hockey, but a great day for Telluride Hockey.
“For a town of our size to compete with some of the big boys is something we can all be very proud of,” he says.
Hockey coach Jesse DiFiori highlights the win isn’t just felt by the teams themselves, but the community as a whole.
“Today’s victory is not just a win for the team. It’s a win for every single one of us. It symbolizes what we can achieve when we come together, united by a common goal and a shared passion,” DiFiori says from the steps. “It’s a reminder that no dream is too big, and no challenge is unsurmountable when we stand as one.”
With spirits high, Mayor Errico speaks into existence what many on Main Street are feeling.
“What I’d like to see, and what I think everyone here would like to see is, someday soon, Telluride competing under its own flag, under the Telluride High School,” Errico exudes.
The season might be over, but by all accounts it’s just the beginning for Telluride hockey.
Tami Huntsman. Photo Courtesy Joan May.
A new scholarship fund for students at the Ah Haa School for the Arts honors Tami Huntsman (Nov. 1951 — Feb. 2024), a beloved art and special education teacher who long called Telluride home. After speaking with friends, students, and colleagues of Huntsman, KOTO has this profile of the new fund, and the remarkable life which inspired it.
Music is “Chimes,” by Adrianne Lenker.
The Silver Jack Garage is one of only a few places in the Telluride area which offers public chargers.
23% of emissions here in southwest San Juan Mountains come from transportation. As Mountain Village, Telluride and San Miguel County as a whole have pledged to slash emissions in the coming years, the transition to Electric Vehicles beckons:
“When we think about how to tackle that in rural and remote communities it’s going to look a lot different from urban communities. Because we are so spread apart, vehicles are still going to be a part of our lives, so the EV readiness plan looks at electric vehicle adoption in our region,” says Kendra Held, Climate Coordinator at EcoAction Partners, a non-profit which organizes and advocates for clean energy across here in the state’s southwestern San Juan mountains.
The EV readiness plan she references is one of EcoAction’s latest projects: it’s a colorful and engaging 70-page document which acts as a roadmap for Electric Vehicle adoption in the region. Who should pick it up?
“It is for anyone who is interested in purchasing an electric vehicle. Some of the other plans in Colorado haven't included that, but we felt it was important to include those informational materials in the beginning,” Held says.
The plan contains information for local governments as well, both on electrifying their own fleets, and analyses of current EV infrastructure and future needs.
The plan lists some 15 current EV chargers in San Miguel County, far higher than its neighboring Ouray and San Juan Counties — and seemingly ample for the 50 EVs currently registered in the county. But many of those chargers are private, difficult to access, or a bit slow.
EV adoptees in the area express a mixed experience so far. Martin Owens lives in Telluride and bought a Rivian last year. He loves driving it, he says, but “the big problem is I don’t have a place to charge it overnight. We have a garage but it’s full of bikes and gear. Probably similar to a lot of other folks in Telluride, we can't fit a vehicle in our garage, so we have to search around town trying to find a place to charge it.”
Owens says he often turns to the chargers at the Silver Jack Parking Garage, located in the core of Telluride’s downtown.
Those, says Owens, “are pretty slow chargers so a lot of times I have to leave [my vehicle] overnight and they charge an overnight fee and an hourly fee. So you kind of get punished for charging overnight which is unfortunate.”
Held says the plan does address the need for additional chargers, but mostly from the perspective of visitors.
“People who live in town or live nearby, usually those people have charging at their home. They want to make sure they have that available to them, that they’re ready to go in the morning — that sort of thing. I think what we’re experiencing right now and what we’ll be experiencing until we have more public chargers is that visitor gap — where we have people driving to town and wondering where to find chargers,” Held speculates.
Kris Kwasneiski lives in Placerville, and got an EV two years ago. She commutes, she says, “so I drive from Placerville to Telluride everyday and back, and gas is really expensive. And two years ago it was really up there. So an EV made sense.”
Kwasniewski captured the ample tax incentives and rebate offerings to install a charge in her home, and she works near Silver Park, where she park for the ol’ 9-5.
“I am super lucky because I get to charge right below my office everyday,” she says. “I think town is doing a great job with the transition to EVs, and with providing people places to charge.”
The plan includes information on potential new charger locations, equitable and fair rate structures, and ways to beef up the area’s EV infrastructure.
For Owens, that all can’t come soon enough. With the number of renters in town, and the number of street-parkers, those changes will be critical in making the EV pitch to Town residents.
“We have to support more overnight and longer term charging for people who street park, which is a lot of people here. And until we see that, I think people are gonna stick to gas,” he says.
The state as a whole has pledged to transition to 100% electric vehicles by 2050, so eventually it will need every EV convert it can get.
Candidate Geneva Shaunette speaks before a packed caucus.
It's March 9th. The San Miguel County Democrats fill the program room at the Wilkinson Library, spilling from time to time into the hallway. Seeing the masses, many marvel at the crowd assembled on a beautiful Saturday afternoon.
“I do want to thank everybody for being here on such a beautiful Saturday. So many of my friends are here in their ski gear, so thanks for getting off the mountain to come support,” opens Geneva Shaunette, Telluride Town Council member and a declared candidate for County Commissioner. The Democrats, many — yes — in ski boots, gathered for their 2024 caucus. This first step in the election process will set the ballot for the party's primary on June 25th. But before it comes to decision-making, local candidates are invited to speak.
Galena Gleason is running to fill Kris Holstrom’s seat as County Commissioner for District Three, which is Norwood and the West End. Taking in the crowd and staring down the narrow aisle, or perhaps chute, at the room's center, Gleason continues the ski metaphor: “This is scary and exhilarating,” she says. I don't know if anybody's ever skied the San Joaquin, but this is wat it feels like.”
Gleason speaks of County values: “The people of San Miguel County have a connection to the land, and have been inspired by the astounding beauty of our area. In my district, I would like to see agriculture play a stronger role in our economy. This will create a strong economic backbone and allow people to thrive while giving back to the land.”
Gleason does not face a Democratic challenger. Her race will come in the November general, against Norwood Mayor Candy Meehan, who is running for the District 3 seat as an Independent.
In the County's First District — that's Telluride and Deep Creek Mesa — there is a primary contest, as Shaunette challenges the incumbent Commissioner Anne Brown.
Shaunette touts her record on Town Council. “Collaborative decision making is more than a buzzword,” says Shaunette. “It's a principle that guides how I govern. I'm focused on prioritizing community needs, from finding homes and childcare options to addressing the general cost of living in the region. I want everyone: from immigrants to retirees, newcomers and generational families to know their needs matter.”
In her remarks, Commissioner Brown speaks of her experience as the incumbent. Brown has served as Commissioner since May of last year when she was appointed following the resignation of Hillary Cooper.
“Don't worry about the time I've invested in this,” Brown says. “That's not your concern. What is your concern is the hours spent by paid staff and elected officials who invested in my education and training. I think it would be a waste to squander this community investment, when frankly, I think I'm doing a solid job.”
Conversation rarely touched on issues of concrete policy. However, Brown, who lives on Deep Creek Mesa, did wish to clear the air about the hot-button housing development which has taken the community by storm.
“I am not against Diamond Ridge. I repeat, I am not against Diamond Ridge. As a private citizen at the time [of its rezoning],” she says, “I urged the BOCC to wait for more information. What I say is yes to an open public process to decide the future of Diamond Ridge.”
Attendees spoke for nearly an hour in favor of both candidates. Many prefaced their remarks by saying how long they had lived in Telluride. Olivia Lavercombe noted a divide in the room between an older and more established side, and a younger group navigating the pressures of the Telluride economy.
She urges the future commissioner: “listen to both sides and be a voice for people who don't have stable housing. I respect the people that have been here a long time, and I ask that the people over here,” Lavercombe says, gesturing to the younger crowd “are supported as well, because we need housing. We need support beyond just kind of the conversation.”
Party Chair Eleni Constantine notes the turnout evidences a high level of engagement and concern amongst voters here, even with only one contested race, that between Shaunette and Brown.
“This is a very, very well attended caucus. I think the only other caucus I've attended that was similar was the caucus when Bernie Sanders and Hillary Clinton were vying for the Presidential nomination,” she says.
Following remarks, attendees vote on delegates to represent them. In order to appear on the ballot, a candidate must receive support from at least 30 percent of the total delegates. Both Brown and Shaunette clear that threshold. According to the San Miguel County Democratic Party, Brown received 16 votes. Shaunette received 13.
By Julia Caulfield
It’s a blustery Saturday morning, with wind whipping down the box canyon.
Roughly thirty Telluridians, young and older, stand outside the Courthouse, chanting, sharing stories, showing support for the people of Palestine.
“We have to connect to our humanity because this is a human rights issue,” says Tabassum Siddiqui, one of the organizers of the march. “They are being starved. They are being terrorized. This is the act and function of Zionism. This is the act and function of white settler colonialism. This is white supremacy. This is racial capitalism. If you think this has something to do with Judaism, it absolutely doesn’t.”
Telluride joined in on an International Day of Solidarity, with millions of people protesting across the world, to support Palestinians and those in Gaza.
Lauren Norton, another of the organizers, says it’s important for Telluride to look beyond its mountains.
“We sometimes feel like we’re separated from the rest of world in our box canyon. We can get closed in and look inward a lot, which is great,” she says. “But there are moments when we need to stand up and say we’re part of this bigger system, the world in general, we’re all connected. And we need to be part of this as much as anyone else.”
While the march focuses on the bombardment in Palestine, Siddiqui, and many members who gather, draw connection to other parts of the world.
“Haiti is under occupation from this kind of system. Every possible country you can think of,” says Siddiqui. “In the Congo, in Sudan, in Yemen, in Iraq, everywhere.”
“My grandfather escaped Germany and the genocide there. My grandmother left a dictatorship in Chile, backed by the United States and U.S. imperialism,” one protestor emphasizes. “Change can happen. People fight for it all the time. It is the most disenfranchised people who fight for it always, and the most privilaged people who ignore it, always. This is in our bones. It’s in our blood. And if you don’t feel that, you have lost your soul. Indigenous folks talk about soul loss. You have lost your soul. Necesitamos cambiar el mundo,” she says "es posible. Yo sé, porque vive en mi sangre. En mi sangre, la guerra.”
Across the march, protesters highlight the importance of connection and shared humanity with those in Gaza.
“There’s times that I feel like I’m removed from a lot of what’s going on, even though we’re seeing it on the internet all the time. Even just small acts of protest and making our voices heard,” says protestor Ian McMullen. “Standing up for people that are across the world, that we don’t even know feels like a deeper human connection.”
It’s a small march, but that doesn’t dishearten those gathered. For Siddiqui it’s a starting point.
“We’re here because we want to build a different world for ourselves. We don’t want a world of suffering. We don’t want a world of oppression,” Siddiqui says. “That’s not the world I want to live in. That’s not the world I want for our young people.”
Protestors march down Main Street with signs saying “Fund Communities, Not Genocide”, “I stand with Palestine”. Organizers don’t have another event planned yet, but they say more are to come.
Enthusiasts have gathered twice-weekly in Town Park to plunge, all winter long.
It's the morning after a storm in Telluride. The sky is still faint blue in the early hours. The first rays of sun on the western slopes have yet to descend into Town Park. And down here along the river, it's still dark. The air is frigid. It's not the type of day that one would naturally go swimming.
But gathered on the rocky and ice bound banks of the San Miguel, a dozen or so folks are stripping down to do just that.
With a gasp and a wince each of these polar plungers crouch into the rushing San Miguel for a three-minute soak. Alex Ward emerges, dripping, into the embrace of her towel.
“I feel energized,” she says. “And cold. I feel like it starts feeling better and better and better. I have been off for a week and a half or a week and a half, and so it was a little chillier today.”
Ward is one of the first of this polar plunging group, which has grown throughout the winter into a dozen regulars who meet each Tuesday and Thursday at 8:00 AM sharp. Ashley Shupp was an early subscriber to Telluride's polar plunge movement as well.
She says her inspiration “was actually my friend, Lina. She lives here and she was doing it. Her husband was doing it for like 10 or 15 minutes in the summer. And I started doing it, and I loved it, and then these girls started joining me.”
Originally a summertime practice amongst two or three friends, Lauren Ross says, as the temps dropped last November and December she and her fellow plungers started to embrace the cold.
“And it became addicting, and it ballooned into this!” Ross says, looking around at the crowd. “It’s such a great community of people getting together in a non-judgmental, positive way.”
Cold water swimming has a rich tradition in Nordic countries and across Europe. It's practiced by some as a daily exercise to increase vigor and mood. Sutton Shuler started plunging this winter on the invitation of a friend.
“It's scary at first, and then it truly is one of the most invigorating things I've ever done,” she says. “I love it. I'm totally addicted, and who would have ever thought that a three to four-minute routine could impact your whole day.”
Those impacts?
“Mood boost, metabolism boost, energy…” lists Shuyler. “And honestly, this amazing community! People I didn't know until we all got semi-naked in the river. I encourage anyone who's interested just to come and give it a try. You don't have to do three minutes or five minutes, but I think coming and being here and being vulnerable and nervous is really important for us all.”
Just as quickly as they came, the plungers start packing up: stuffing toes into slippers and heading off on their day with bright eyes and rosy cheeks. The sweet warm yellow of the rising sun is just now sliding down Main street towards Town Park.
Each year, Telluride’s Jazz Festival features a 2nd line parade, a nod to the New Orleans tradition. Photo Courtesy SBG Productions.
Archival sound.
KOTO's DJ Jimmy Jazz, Jim Berkowitz, interviewed Ben Jaffe, creative director and tuba player with the New Orleans Preservation Hall Jazz Band before the band's appearance at Telluride's 2021 Jazz Festival.
Preservation Hall is a vaunted jazz venue in the French Quarter of New Orleans, and Jaffe is one of dozens of musical artists, a list including Trombone Shorty, Etta James, Mavis Staples, and so on, who've performed at both the New Orleans Jazz Fest and at Telluride's.
“The music for me and for many people in Telluride is very relatable,” reflects Steve Gumble, producer of Telluride Jazz Fest and Telluride Blues and Brews.
“Brass bands, funk, The Meters coming to Jazz [Festival], all that stuff – it all comes back to music and New Orleans Jazz Festival is probably the longest, oldest running festival and, you know, that's where we went: we went to New Orleans for Jazz Fest and that music resonates with me and it seems to resonate with people in Telluride,” Gumble continues.
A love of festivals and an appreciation for music in the jazz tradition are just one of many cultural touchstones shared between the sprawling bayou city of New Orleans and our tiny town of Telluride.
In observance of Mardi Gras, I began asking a handful of Telluridians with a New Orleans connection what they made of our town's affinity for the ‘Big Easy.’ Could New Orleans be a sort of Sister City?
“Scrape through the beer soaked floors and beads and hurricanes and, you know,” says Gumble, “I think there's a cultural connection, a culinary connection, and definitely a music connection.”
MarK Izard is a long-time Telluride resident, who's been to 31 New Orleans Jazz Fests with his wife Janet, and he's the DJ behind KOTO’s ‘New Orleans Road Trip.’ He points out many Telluride restaurantuers came up in New Orleans. Then there's a shared value for historic preservation. But, says Izard, it really comes down to a means of self expression:
“You can be whoever you want to be,” says Izard. “You can wear whatever costume you want to wear. We like to dress up in Telluride and we like to dress up in New Orleans; and it's not just dressing up, it's [the fact that] if you choose to act a certain way or look a certain way or have certain values, you're open to express those.”
Izard continues, “It's really more about just experiencing life; just trying to take everything to the max.”
Katherine Bonnaeu, a wedding planner and a creative entrepreneur who lives in Telluride grew up visiting New Orleans and worked for over a decade on the production team at the New Orleans Jazz Fest. She started there in 2006. “And it was a wild year to be joining their production team because of Katrina,” says Bonnaeu.
She recalls the city devastated, rebuilding slowly, painfully and still gathering for their beloved Jazz Fest. “It was such an amazing experience to be at the festival because of the fact that it even happened! Bruce Springsteen put together this amazing band and I swear during that set, it was so powerful and emotional that I don't think there was a dry face in the audience,” Bonneau recalls.
Reflecting on her frequent visits, Bonneau does point to differences. “We live in a bubble here in Telluride,” Bonnaeu says, “and so I see that as a huge difference. New Orleans is where I seek to go at least once or twice a year, just so I can get my culture fix, whether that’s food, just being around different groups of people. And I have so many friends and family there. So that keeps me going back.”
Camilla Choa moved to Telluride shortly after graduating from Tulane, and she recalls being enchanted by the city when she first enrolled at the University.
“The culture of it,” says Choa — “it really is a melting pot. And when you get to New Orleans, you can feel the energy, this ancient, haunting energy. I felt like I was in a city that was so much older and wiser and bigger than me. That was really humbling.”
For Choa, a standout difference between the two communities?
“Honestly, the wealth disparity between Telluride and New Orleans is very apparent,” she says.
Izard noted this as well. As Telluride’s wealth has increased its culture has shifted away from the open-hearted expressiveness of the ‘Big Easy’ lifestyle.
“As money has come in,” he observes, “you don't have quite as many of the unique and interesting characters that we used to have…but it's still there.”
On that note, Choa reflects, Telluride could perhaps learn from New Orleans, and, she says —“adopt some more forms of celebration. And community events that include everybody, whatever their tax bracket.”
But for all the ways that Telluride can feel like a changing, difficult, and unsustainable place to live, Steve Gumble says there's still an undercurrent of New Orleans.
“If you look beyond the myopic short-term stresses of living in a small mountain community and the politics, and the lack of housing, and all those things that create tension…you get through all that and there's still really a common denominator of, you know, the big easy vibe,” he says.
