Saturday, October 13, 2018

Ah, Denver

Denver.  Legalized marijuana.  Population boom.  Gentrification.  Traffic.  Front Range.  Blue skies and brown clouds.  Great food - farm to table.  Hipsters and homelessness.

Denver.  I first came here in 1978.  It was a cross country trip that is best not discussed here.  Suffice to say that when my friends headed to California, I stayed in Denver.  When they passed through on the way back east, I stayed here.  When my mom needed some serious surgery I went back east and helped to take care of her.  And I worked my ass off to finance a return trip to Colorado that would last almost ten years.

I've lived in Denver, Evergreen, Lakewood, Colorado Springs, Fort Collins and Centennial.  And maybe a few other places I have not named.  Colorado Springs holds the record for longevity.  But then fire took my neighborhood and compelled me to leave Mountain Shadows and a house that never felt like home to me.

Now I live in south suburban Denver.  I am close enough to Littleton and Highlands Ranch that I could probably vigorously spit and hit either one of those enclaves.  I dream of being an urbanite, but the parking and traffic deter me.  So do the rental prices.  And dealing with the density and being hit-up for money at every foray into the city.

I belong to myriad cultural organizations that are in Denver proper.  Museums, Gardens and the like.  I find myself driving quite often into central or downtown Denver.  Parking is surprisingly easy most days.  I grew up in New York and can usually manage to parallel park with ease.  The uneasy part is being hustled almost every time I exit my car.  No I don't have 'extra' money to spare.  No I can't buy you a bottle - Jeez the kid who asked me that was about 14.

Last Sunday I found myself at the DCPA* complex on the south edge of the downtown area.  I attended an event billed I AM DENVER.  Parking here was tricky.  Most of the meters had yellow hoods over them.  Meters are free on Sundays, but these hoods are deceiving.  Is the meter hooded because parking is complimentary?  I got out and read the 'rules' on the sidewalk side.  Seemed to indicate I shouldn't park there.  I drove around, found a spot and had to walk just a couple of blocks. I perused the city of Denver website for insight on the rules, but that was an unfruitful search.  Maybe I'll call them.  The old fashioned way.

Through a series of prompts and exercises, I came away from this no-fee writing workshop with two decent stories.  I was surprised that more people weren't there.  Am I just cheap...always looking to do things that are free and different?  Then I remember that Sundays in Colorado are sport days.  The Rockies were playing at home.  The Broncos were away.  Note to self - avoid heading toward the highway to come home at two pm...  backroads, country roads and city streets rule!  Plus I know my way around pretty well!

There were also opportunities to pod-cast and/or video record your stories.  I took advantage of both.  You can read my unedited stories in this blog.  They are both true, to the best of my recollection.  I admit to changing a slight detail in the Cherry Creek piece.  It was Gene Paul who had the Cadillac, not his wife.  But literary license allows me to not have to introduce another character into a short write.  Consolidation has a legitimate place in memoir.  In my opinion.  Plus I am 'fessing up here.

Enjoy my (mostly) unedited versions of my two I AM DENVER stories:


Cherry Creek (podcast)

When I first came to Denver in 1979
I fell into a neighborhood
I fell into a job
Cherry Creek, when Cherry Creek was
Low brick ranchers and the mall was small
Burgers at the Cherry Cricket, or Round the Corner

I worked at Cherry Creek Jewelers
For the Paul family
Fortunately for them 
I came fully trained
From my Dad's store in New York City

I could tell a diamond from a CZ
Engrave by machine or hand
Wearing heels from Ferragamo's
Riding my bike a few short blocks
To work for this Denver family

Celebrating Dee Paul's milestone birthday
We went to Elway's just a few blocks from where
Her store stood, where she parked her baby blue Cadillac
Her son asked her if she remembered

Remembered the store that we all worked at
At First and Fillmore
And this woman - born at Mercy Hospital
Former shoe model for Neusteters 
Descendent of Globeville and Derby landowners replied
In her gravelly, but still strong, 90 year old voice
"I remember Cherry Creek when it was just a field



Sun Valley (videotaped)




This old photo of the 'new' Elitch's reminded me of all those years ago when my boyfriend and I went to a Bronco's game.  I am sure we were gifted those tickets because even in the early eighties (before that photo was taken) we couldn't afford the price of admission. Back then there were many older houses dotting the land on the west side of I-25 - the Valley Highway.  There were a few flat lots to park in, but they were pricy for a couple of kids in their early twenties.  Pete drove a grey Buick of some sort that we all called the Silver Bullet.  A nod to Coors, Colorado Kool-Aid, 3.2%.

These row houses now long gone in favor of the newer stadium and other development were mostly occupied by Hispanics.  And many of these folks offered parking on their driveways or lawns, enabling people to walk to the old Mile-High.  We paid our six bucks and said a little prayer.  We hoped our car would be there, intact, upon our return.

I can't remember who the Broncos played that day.  I can't remember if they even won.  The most memorable part of that day was this.  We return to our vehicle start it up; preparing to leave.  The lady who took our money earlier that day came running out of her house with a small, steamy bag in hand. "Wait!  Wait!" she called out.  "I have a dozen tamales for you.  They are free with your parking fee." 

Time to Write,

Jane

*DCPA -Denver Center for the Performing Arts








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