Chasing the American West
I can still remember the first time I landed in Denver International Airport at the ripe old age of eight. I stepped off the plane clutching a blanket and my mother’s hand with eyes filled with adventure. Several men in cowboy hats pointed us to the baggage claim where I stared at those tall mountains in the distance. I was overwhelmed with that feeling of the West.
That feeling of history and uncharted areas combined with a touch of danger and a whole lot of adventure. That feeling that so many people felt so many years ago. A feeling that told you there was much more out there. The driving force that inspired families to pack their worldly possessions into wagons and herd their children across unknown land in search of the key to a better life: gold.
Each time I find myself back in the DIA, I get that feeling. But there is a new element to it. A feeling of sadness overwhelms me as I watch the West I dreamed about as a child slowly turning into yuppie towns with millionaire homes and five-star restaurants.
Slowly, I see those historical places of my childhood being overlooked for the economic interest of tourist attractions. Take for instance the famous Buffalo Bill’s Grave located on I-70 just a few miles from the interstate.
Just a couple of days ago, while driving to the mountains, a friend asked me who Buffalo Bill was. I was shocked, astounded, appalled! The story of Buffalo Bill was one that I had cherished as a child. I’d read about his life, visited his museum, and seen his grave firsthand! And she had never heard his name. I wondered how those fabulous stories of westward expansion had escaped her childhood.
I recently visited Buffalo Bill’s haven in Cody, Wyoming. It’s a small town filled with culture of westward expansion. On its outskirts are Indian reservations, historical sites of the Oregon Trail, and memorials of the Sand Creek Massacre. It’s a town just oozing with memories. The historic Irma hotel, located in the heart of Cody was built by Buffalo Bill himself. The hotel still holds nightly gun fights during the summer months, just to keep those stories alive.
There was something special about this town with a population of 9,000. Something special that Colorado used to have that has been lost as historic towns, like our very own Boulder, turn increasingly wealthier. That special something is an active, irreplaceable history.
Take for instance the Alferd Packer Grill in the UMC. How many people know who Alferd Packer was? How many students stop to think about why our cafeteria is named after a cannibalistic pioneer? Doesn’t that seem a little bit ironic? Doesn’t anyone care anymore?
The educational emphasis on subjects like math and science have dwarfed one of the most important lessons a person can learn: our past.
Our school systems have become so narrowly focused on what will get you the better job, and how to compete in the dog-eat-dog marketplace, that we’ve lost sight of how we came to be.
The historically romantic places like Idaho Springs, which was one of the first gold mining towns in the U.S., and Golden, where gold was actually discovered, gets passed by with cars filled with tourists eager to get to their upscale destinations like Vail Cascade Resort and Spa and the over-priced Aspen.
I can’t help but wonder when we stopped learning about the fun stuff. I drag myself to “U.S. History to 1865” class every Tuesday and Thursday to learn the same old boring facts about America, like the Continental Congress, the American Revolution and figures like Ben Franklin. But nothing sparks interest like the combination of history, myth, adventure, legend. All of those things have made up the American West but are reduced to learning countless land agreements and a brief mentioning of Indian oppression.
Where are the stories of Buffalo Bill, Annie Oakley and Jesse James, Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse, the Oregon Trail and the Chisholm Trail?
It seems to me, that our environmentally conscious, money-absorbing American West is losing that valuable culture that created its unique identity. We’re a culture too narrow-mindedly focused on changing our physical existence that we’re losing touch with our important past.
Not only has our New West replaced the Old West, but it’s washed away those special stories that keep the Rocky Mountains so mysterious.
Contact Campus Press Staff Writer Brittany.Sovine@colorado.edu.
