In memoriam
History was rich here, but little survives
Each day another carpetbagger arrives
The Onion is empty; Jimmy’s forced to close
Humility is dead; entitlement thumbs its nose
Tranquility fled to some faraway place
Traffic congestion is the town’s big disgrace
Mom and Pop stores struggle to make it
Landlord greed just wants to take it
No one can find a place to live
Unless they’ve got a fortune to give
Workers must sleep in a distant county
Hit and run kids have dad pay the bounty
There’s no more fun at the Crystal Palace
Just naked steel and mounting malice
The plaza has a statue of Friedl Pfeifer
But he’s only known if you’re a local lifer
And who were Walter and Darcy and Fred?
Who cares? Who cares? They’re forgotten and dead
The Isis is in crisis; the gas stations went away
But we got a new chain store — hooray, hooray
Dinner in town is $500 for two (if you’re smart)
It comes with COVID, seated two feet apart
But the snow is the best in 43 years
Though goggles ice up with memory’s tears
Oh, what the hell, summer’s even worse
Success is irony dressed up as a curse
Welcome to the town of last goodbyes
Where history is rich, but character dies
I’m lucky to have arrived in Aspen in ‘55
And be young enough my memories survive
Of dirt streets, Tom’s Market, and Sinclair gas
No stoplights, no curbs, an unpaved Independence Pass
Of Küster and Guido and Bil with one “L”
The Times once a week the kids scurried to sell
What’ll be next to pack up and go?
Farewell, dear Aspen, we loved you so
Greg Lewis
Snowmass Village
