Folks often ask what it is like living up in the mountains and look doubtful when
Penny or I answer that it used to be like living on the set of a Northern Exposure
episode.

        At least it was till the advent of gambling five years ago. Limited stakes gaming
shredded the social fabric of our small community. Whereas a trip to the post office
used to take an hour, meeting and bullshitting with friends and neighbors on the
street in front of the P.O. and bank or at the gas station, now it only takes 20
minutes because we no longer see friends in town, only gamblers. The bittersweet
occasion of a wake got some of the "old timers"(4,002 or there abouts by 1990 census) together for a blow out last night. This is a story from that wake.

        Terry Holmes, SGT. 5th Special Forces RVN 68-69, hard rock miner, dump truck
owner/operator and friend, passed away last Saturday at home after a 15-month
battle with cancer. I drove him 40 miles each way to many of his chemo and radiation
treatments over those months and not once did I hear him whine or see his spirits
flag (We hoisted a glass to that).

        However, this is not a eulogy to Terry, though he deserves far better than I could
give.

        As the story goes, toward the end of the evening Penny and Ruth, who are both
nearer 50 than 40 (God love 'em), are emptying the fishbowl and getting the
donations for Sharon organized and ready to go. The game of the evening had
been tossing quarters into a fishbowl on the backbar of Colorado's oldest saloon,
Crook's Palace. Put your quarter into the bowl and you didn't have to pony-up ten
bucks for the bowl; after enough rounds everyone ponied, most several times.

        As they count and organize the donations, Penny looks up. Facing her is Steve,
who is arguing with city councilhusband Don. Don's back is to the counting table.
Penny can't hear what is being said, but can tell by the veins popping out on
Steve's forehead that he is fixing to punch Don, sending him flying in her direction,
scattering the money on the table.

        "Ruth, watch out!" Ruth looks up and instantly grasps the scene. Without a second
thought, grabs the hem of her blouse and hoists it above her bare breasts and
shouts, "Hey Steve,"  Steve looks at her and staggers back as if hit by a blow,
attention diverted, situation defused.

        Later as they talked, Ruth said to Steve, "Listen, these tits are semi-retired and the
ONLY reason I'd bring them out is to stop a fight."

        So goes life in Gilpin County, Colorado.

Bill Round
Black Hawk, Colorado