Under Western Skies

I spent most of my childhood in Eastern Wyoming, where the cattle outnumber people, the snow comes down horizontal, and coal mining is a way of life. It's taken me several years to appreciate this rough lifestyle. I'm in awe of those who still live in my hometown, battling the unforgiving Powder River Basin winters, the boom/bust economy, and the hard choices that stem from the loneliness geography can create.

Before we lived in the Powder River Basin, we lived at the foot of the Big Horn Mountains and before that in central Wyoming near the Arapaho reservation. My paternal Grandmother lived nearby and was all smiles. It’s funny how some people want acclaim for the money they make, the books they write, or even the car they drive. Then there are others (many of them Grandmothers) who you remember because of the soft afghans they made and their laugh.

Today, when most people think of the west, they think of “Big Sky Country” and vast mountain ranges. They tear out glossy travel ads from TIME magazine as they sit at their dentist's office in high-rise buildings. Their eyes glaze over at the promise of all play and no work. Better yet, they see a couple of movies starring Brad Pitt and are hooked like a brown trout during the salmon fly hatch. Then it’s out west for a week in July until they realize they can’t get cell service in a drift boat.

Still, in my travels away from the western states, I am amazed by the way people cling to the myth of the west. For example, I was in lower Manhattan buying a bagel talking to the man behind the counter about where I was born. He said, and I quote, “You know we have a saying out here: Have you ever really met someone from Wyoming?” I think he could tell that I was a little sad about the comment. (Aren't we all a little proud of where we are from?) He laughed aloud and said, "Well, now I have a story to tell, Miss!".

From these experiences, I see the west as it really is, rather than some idealized, romantic notion. It’s open space, fresh air, and the sense of freedom that comes from getting in a car and driving with no particular destination in mind. The heart of the west is the people working hard to make a living in a sometimes harsh environment where an honest day's work goes hand in hand with learning to appreciate warm, sunny weather. It’s natural scenery that truly takes your breath away, but you have to remind yourself to enjoy it because you sometimes take it for granted when you see it every day.

I am grateful that I grew up here and still call this place my home. I love how calm, quiet mornings are perfect for writing and thunderstorms make an excellent soundtrack for painting. There's value in respecting the change in seasons and the lessons they offer. Snow falling gently outside my window is all the light I need to read a good book, and a solitary stretch of road is sometimes the best therapy.

When I was in my twenties, I wanted to leave this place for somewhere bigger, better, and faster-paced. Older now, I've acquired a renewed appreciation for the spirit of the land and people, not only from traveling outside of the western states but also by opening my eyes to what is right outside my front door. Through this awakening, I have come to realize that I am proud to be part of a new generation, following our dreams right here, under western skies.

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