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Show THE ZEPH YR/FEBRUARY-MARCH 2005 REMEMBERING The MOAB wrrr IRENE THILL Aftermath....part 3 In previous issues of The Zephyr, Irene Thill shared her memories of Moab of half a century ago and into the Uranium Boom. Now she ‘wraps things up’ with this last installment...JS Another time, I saw a perfect stone leaning against another. I worked it loose, pulled it forward and a beautiful green and white snake reared up into the air. I'm deathly afraid of snakes so I released the stone. J crushed the snake and some fingers and felt sorry for both It's difficult to know where to start on this third and last article. Shall I go nostalgic, personal, factual, wishful or all four? Perhaps a bit of each. of us. When the patio was finally finished, I told everyone it was built by blood, sweat and "fears". Nostalgic, My sister's family and ours made it a yearly tradition to spend the Fourth of July in Telluride, Colorado. That homely yet beautiful little town put ona great celebration, ending with spectacular fireworks against the high mountains that surround it. One such outing stands out never to be forgotten. We drove into town, parked the cars and began the exploration of streets and stores. The shops were quaint with displays out of the past such of course, can only be memories I harbor within my heart. Memories of a personal nature - good friends, social activities, work experiences, my children growing from babyhood to adulthood. Myself getting twenty years closer to senior citizen status. I think my fondest memories are of outdoor adventures. Scenic drives up the Colorado River past White's Ranch with its fort like entrance, across the old swinging bridge on the cut-off I think my fondest memories are of outdoor adventures. Scenic drives up the Colorado River, past White's Ranch with its fort-like entrance. Across the old swinging bridge on the cutoff to Grand Jct: the picnic, after a good romp in the sand that permanently dyed my little boy's white shorts red... Moab’s Main Street in the 1950s and in 2004 to Grand Junction; the picnic, after a good romp in the sand that permanently dyed my little as Mrs. Pinkerton's feminine elixir, Bag Balm, and asafetida. My gramma put a bag of that boy's white shorts red; the hikes that took us to see the historical artwork of ancient inhabitants and their caves with caches of tiny corncobs, which we marveled at and left behind for others to see. We thoroughly explored Nigger Bill Canyon (sorry, folks, but that is what it was called in 1951). The canyon would not have borne the man's name if he had not left a positive impression. Due to today's racial prejudices the name has been changed stuff around my neck when I was little to keep away snotty noses and croup. The penny candy section was a kid's paradise. A dime bought each one a day's supply. The highlight of this day occurred at the main intersection in town. A regal drunk dressed in top hat and tails was directing traffic. He would doff his hat, bow and wave the cars through in one direction, stagger around and direct them the opposite way. Once he bowed too low and fell on his face. With great dignity, he picked himself up, dusted off to Negro Bill and that takes away the love and respect. One year, we built a patio in back of our house on Center Street with the natural flagstones generously provided by Mother Nature. There are jillions of them all over the area. We took the road down. the river, across the sand and grazing grounds following Cane Creek, terminating at the Hole.'N the Rock. We loaded the truck so heavily it broke an axle. We were closer to the Hole 'N the Rock than town, so we took turns carrying our four year old son. It was dark and as we passed grazing cattle, they turned their ghostly white faces to watch as we trudged past. We must have forded the creek ten times. Our feet became so heavy with mud from mixing with dirt on the road, it felt like they weighed a ton each before we got to the highway. Our son said, "Daddy, yoware a good trail boss.” Robert Redd came along, recognized Vic with his thumb in the air and kindly took us home. his hat and continued his efforts. I was never quite sure whether it was a staged act, but whatever, it was highly entertaining. Our kids sat on the curb mesmerized for an hour. The Boom and the advent of tourism opened the world to the Four Corner's area. Mesa Verde, with its well preserved remnants of a lost civilization was always awesome. Now I read about how the rich and famous have discovered wonderful little Telluride and turned it into a sophisticated playground, so exclusive, no clown would dare show himself in the face of such glamour. That is a loss to a simple lifestyle and down-home humor. I don't know how La Sal, Uravan and other rural towns have fared from our present Hell-bent society for self-indulgence, but I did read recently where delightful little Bluff has also been “discovered”. Moab’s Oldest Legal Brewery! ~. Meet me at Gil] McStiff’s... 2 son F Restaurant &5 Microbrewery 57 S. MAIN in the WESTERN PLAZA 259-BEER EDDIE'S MANY PERSONALITIES SINCE 1995 OS) |