Aspen keeps it real
As I get ready to leave Aspen for three months over the summer, my favorite time of year, I’ve been reflecting on all the things I love about this community. There are the obvious things like the Wheeler; Belly Up; live music – be it classical, jazz or the songwriters competition – on the streets; the fact that I met my agent at the writers festival and didn’t have to struggle through the muck of the New York literary scene; and that I was hired for my first published work by Aspen Peak and the job included meeting and interviewing my idol, to name a few.
The love and support I get as a performer always will rank high on the list, and I will be forever grateful to the people who allow us to perform and come to our shows at Escobar and Steve’s Guitars time and again and say hello on the street even if we’ve never formally met. I love that the local papers advertise our shows for free. I love that I can show up at the J-Bar to support my friend Dan Sheridan’s awesome CD release and randomly bump into three of my favorite guys in town, old friends I never get to see, and make a new friend who offers to promote my shows.
I love that I can get in the gondola, have a conversation with a couple of tourists I’ve never met who are 20 years older or younger than I am and turn them on to one of my favorite runs on the mountain. I love that I can leave my wallet, iPhone and car keys on the bar at Justice Snow’s and come back 10 minutes later to find them untouched. I love that I walk into Peach’s and the gang behind the counter asks about my day and starts my drink before I even order it. I love that I have such amazing customers to wait on at Matsuhisa who don’t just pass through but rather forge relationships that frequently lead to hugs goodnight after their meal and, recently, from a very special family whom I’d only waited on twice, a going-away present of a cookbook that I’d mentioned being excited about.
And I love that my hard-core conservative, Republican, finance-guy father gets a twinkle in his eye when he talks about the Snoopy Shrine, which we started together a few years ago on Summit, a run that he’s skied more than 3,000 times and that we’ve always called Some Mutt.
So, to the person or people who destroyed the five or six shrines on the mountain, and to whoever wrote “phonies” on the sign coming into town, I just want to say I feel sorry for you … you’re missing out on the best parts of this community.
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Each week, we pick out our favorite and not-so-favorite tweets (at least those that are printable) about Aspen and display them on Sunday’s page A2.