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Show be in control of a town that was theirs since the beginning. The same could be said for the people of Telluride, although mining junk has taken on a picturesque aspect that never occurred to those who actually used the stuff. I’ve seen mining ore cars regularly parked in front of million dollar ski chalets, which baffles me, as I’m almost certain that anyone who owns a ski chalet the size of an aircraft hangar never worked in any of our nations Tcan make a web site sing." Web Site | Design G Maintenance mines. Maybe they owned them, and the ore car is their homage to the toils of the fallen 0 The few affordable places left in the Southwest are pretty junky. Gallup, New Nene, for one. Gallup has beautiful red rocks nearby, nice southwestern climate, and lots of “culture”, one of the excuses the wealthy use when relocating to a custom adobe house the size of an airport terminal on the side of a mountain above Santa Fe. But you won't see any multimillion dollar estates in Gallup. One can invest without fear that property taxes will balloon and wipe out meager savings. Perhaps the well-to-do don’t like living so dangerously close to all that teeming culture, and prefer a modicum of separation. Maybe we shouldn’t go there. I adore is Grants, New Mexico and Winslow and Holbrook, Arizona By Alexandra L. Woodruff (The Zephyr’s new webmaster) for the same reasons. sashinator|@yahoo.com Iam sure that by now, there are those in the development and manifest destiny crowd who are ready to help me go shake hands with Jesus. I don’t blame them. IfI had a big pile of money and was thinking of moving to the romantic southwest, I wouldn’t want to live near me either. Still, they should understand that the bottom line is determined by the market, which, when it’s serving them, they reverentially defer to. Given this undeniable cultural fact, we low income inheritors of the southwest are left with the junk option. The wealthy have the banks, the construction companies, and the state legislators on their side. SOL641.1442 aa Y s ror ofte® yran's roan Blue We have junk. It’s much more forgiving than a bank, much less costly than a construction company, and much less fickle than a state legislator. It’s also durable, and when arranged properly, much more effective than any zoning policy, second home taxation scheme, or other piece of benevolent legislation meant to keep the wealthy from swooping in and turning yet another southwestern town into an adobe theme park. The rich always counter that they too have "the right" to live in the southwest. I do not deny that. Pretty much everything is on their side culturally. Still, would also argue that those of us who come 101 socioeconomic environment that makes our enjoyment of the southwest possible. We can uglify our towns to help us maintain reasonable property values and fight gentrification | and all its attendant ills. The argument that high-end growth will provide jobs is facetious (please see Aspen, Telluride, Santa Fe, Taos, etc. etc. etc.). Any jobs in the high-end construction industry will inevitably end when the last driveway is poured, and the security guards are on station at the entrance gates to the new resort community. Then, the construction workers must leave, towing their dust covered trailers off to the next building bonanza. I for one believe it’s time to take seriously the defense of the reasonably priced low budget southwest. In my estimation, the safest, cheapest, easiest way to do that is with junk. Yard arks, ho! See NORTH MAIN STREET ‘We are Moab's Breakfast Place, we serve only breakfast from the bottom of the heap also have the right to preserve a | and we're very good at it. cock Enough fore Lost Meck $ foe me POINTBLANK 7 am to 12 noon Weekdays Saturday & Sunday, until 1 SUBMISSIONS Submissions to The Zephyr may be-on any topic even remotely relevant to its readers. They must be between 500 and 1000 words. Authors of essays printed in this publication receive a five year subscription and our gratitude. In the back of your mind, do you cherish a dream of the perfect desert hideaway, a small inn on a little-traveled highway, with miles and miles of beautiful, lonesome country between it and anywhere else. Around it are high red mesas and sensuous slickrock canyons, undiscovered by the crowds, retaining their mystery and timeless meaning. In the calm of mid-day, there’s not a sound except the occasional flitter of a hummingbird and the quiet buzzing of the old ice machine on the front porch. When the breeze blows, you hear it in 100,000 juniper trees that dot the broad, sweeping benches all around. At evening, the sunset lingers over distant buttes. Though it’s wonderfully comfortable, the place hasn’t changed much in spirit since the 1950’s. Guests return again and again and feel it’s like a second home. Staying here, vee could Pee that TV’s, phones, and driveup windows were never invented. (L) Kenneth Ferree taking mail to post office at Fry Canyon, Utah. Photos courtesy of Bobbi Adamson who lived at Fry Canyon as a child. She is the daughter of Kenneth G Mabelle Ferree... Grandmother, Sadie Black documented all the photos. Plane Janded near store on muddy landing strip. (R) Waren Black at spring near Virgil Allen mine—formerly- The Maybe Mine. May 1961. Your dream is a reality at Fry Canyon Lodge, The Inn at Utah’s “wild Heart. Majestically isolated on State vay OS between Natural Bridges and Glen Canyon. (435) 259-5334 |