You know you are from Denver when some White Supremacist pig posts a pro-Nazi event flyer in a popular group and the admins let that stand, but won't allow the counter-protest event to be posted.
You know you are from Denver when you can't believe this is happening in your hometown, your home state. You can't believe that the grandson of a KKK grand-wizard was allowed to run for governor on a "Let's forget about all that unpleasantness and continue blaming brown people for our problems" platform. You can't believe this is the same town, the same state that used to boast of its broad and fair-mindedness, it's the live-and-let-live mentality.
You know you are from Denver if you grew up with friends and family of all colors, all religions, all parts of the world, and you didn't think much of it. If you had to sum it up as a creed or a philosophy, it's that there's really nothing high-minded about it, you just don't give a fuck. Most people you know also don't give a fuck. Unless someone is an asshole, and then we definitely give a fuck, and will give them free directions to the nearest highway.
You know you are from the Mile-High city if you care more about musical tastes, craft beers and sports teams than anyone's so-called "race."
You know you are from Denver when you know this used to be Mexico for a good 300 years before it was ever Amurrrica, and you know that not from what they taught in school, but from your friends, neighbors, and probably your mixed family who had to move up here from the San Luis Valley to get jobs. You know to mind your fucking manners and to not purposely offend your Latinx friends and family because they were here first, so shut yer white gob and pass the tortillas.
You know you are from Denver when some shady af pseudo-military organization calling themselves "ICE" (as in... Vanilla?) tries to bust up your neighbor's party and you launch cans of skunky Coors Lite at them, which no one was drinking anyway.
You know you are from Denver when your whole life has been nothing but change, but you can't remember a time like this.
You know you are from Denver when you can't think of Thanksgiving without Daddy Bruce, or helping out at the Rescue Mission, or some other homeless shelter where your parents made you go and you hated them for it but now you're grateful. Because you have memories of compassion. And joy.
You know you are from Denver if you are still shocked to see a homeless population that has only grown since the '80s. You know that Denver has always been a crossroads, back to the tribes, but people were just passing through. You know you are from Denver when you look at the monstrous new "Mile Hi Stadium" and then back at the homeless camps along the Platte and Cherry Creek, and you want to puke.
You know you are from Denver when some punk-ass little bitches calling themselves "Proud Boys"
who probably aren't even from here try to counter-protest your AntiFa rally and they get booed into silence by a bunch of grandmothers who could probably kick their asses.
You know you are from Denver if you feel guilty about letting this hateful behavior get this far, this quickly, in the name of being "friendly" and "cool." You know the coolness ship has sailed and shit's about to get real.
You know you are from Denver if you have friends and family on the Western Slope or the Eastern Plains who voted for Trump and then immediately lost their jobs, or their ranches, or all their money to lack of healthcare. You don't mock them, you cry with them. And you would invite them to stay with you but your 600 square foot apartment won't hold anymore.
You know you are from Denver when you had a house, but lost it in the foreclosure crisis of 2010 and watched as Eastern developers with cash turned it into luxury condominiums that only Eastern transplants could afford. You know you are from Denver when you don't recognize your neighborhood anymore, and you get lost going home from work.
You know you are from Denver when one by one, all your friends start moving away to cheaper places where they can actually raise their kids and not starve. Places like Texas. T.E.X.A.S.
You know you are from Denver when you haven't been able to afford skiing in 15 years, even with your side- gig at a rental shop where you outfit hundreds of people from out of state every winter, all of whom want to move here. You know we don't have many snowy winters left, so you'd better get up there while you can.
You know you are from Denver when you don't even want to go to the mountains anymore because there are too many fucking people up there -and on a weekend? Forget it! Maybe on a Wednesday. But you have to work, just to be able to scrape by in this beautiful place.
You know you are from Denver if you are completely ruined for living anywhere else. Sure, you've traveled a bit, but you always come back. This is basecamp and home, and by God, you're not leaving. So you get another side-gig and start growing pot.
You know you are from Denver When your hospitality is completely shot, and you gather your community, such as it is, and together you start to rise up against the carpetbaggers, the extractors, the developers, the bankers, the fascists, the corrupt politicians and together you say ENOUGH. BASTA. You've had enough sunshine and smoke blown up your ass to power several hot-air balloons and you are using that power to lift up the people, amplify their voices, and finally overthrow this greedy, corrupt, cancer that has grown over everything you love. Like Aurora. A.U.R.O.R.A.*
*I'm from Aurora, I can say that.
No comments:
Post a Comment