THERE IS LIFE IN WEST YELLOWSTONE
It is very hard to believe that I must travel over 100 miles to hear a symphony orchestra. Harder yet to believe that a good symphony orchestra is over 5 hours away, and that Los Angeles, San Francisco, Denver, Seattle, or elsewhere is a plane ride and three days away, (there and back – for a symphony.)
The library takes two weeks to get a book, (at least they have Internet access and a large corresponding library list.) The food at most of the restaurants tastes the same because it all comes off of the same truck. The editor of the newspaper worked his way up from delivery boy. The city council and the chamber of commerce have the same members and agenda. The movies arrive late and are censored, (even the popcorn is stale.)
There is hope, I think. I still have access to the New York Times – on line if it’s urgent, or two days after it’s published if I go to my post office box. (There is no home delivery in West Yellowstone.) And, from my on-line fix, there comes a pair of interesting notes, reinforcing my decision to live in this part of paradise.
I find that Starbucks is dictating the aesthetic and other values to the urban sheep of the world. My Oh My, has it really come to this? See it for yourself at: The Starbucks Aesthetic.
Also, there is the problem with scum and scumbags in the cultural centers of our nation. Where else, I wonder, can a lying, cheating, stealing, charlatan bilk the government out of my tax money for so long that it takes 5 years for him to apologise in open court? The University of Vermont needs to apologise too! Read it here.
At least I have my Marias. A delightful little shortbread cookie that goes just as good with cream cheese and caviar as it does with a big glass of cold milk, or a spot of hot tea. They have the ability to stand up to a heavy strawberry jam, and the delicacy to enhance a simple pat of unsalted butter. They are even good with cold stream water right out of the back pack. Our large population of Mexican obreros has convinced the grocery stores to carry some imported foods. God bless this little cul-de-sac!
The machines await.