Weekend Picks: A one-sided rivalry

Aug. 31—Don't Colorado my Wyoming.

"OK," Colorado collectively agreed. "We won't then."

And then, they didn't.

Instead, they focus on themselves. That's why they have chicken joints and we have car washes, which, if you haven't noticed, is too many car washes.

We at the southeast Wyoming border sure do have a passion for drawing deep, malicious comparisons to our sister state. In fact, foe some people, there's nothing more important than not being like Colorado. I've been here nearly two years, and I already know that designating someone or something as embodying the nebulous characteristics of "Colorado" is enough to start a fist fight.

That's still not as bad as likening something to California, for which the offender will likely be drawn and quartered in the Depot Plaza.

And we all know what it really means when people push this rallying cry. It's the same subsurface messaging as saying "try that in a small town."

Newsflash: you can foster small-town values without adhering to violence.

Back to the point: I like northern Colorado.

I've met a lot of nice people there, and been to a lot of awe-inspiring places, including places as different as Denver and the barren Raptor Alley in Nunn, Colorado. I would argue that I've made almost as many good memories in Colorado as I have here in The Big Empty, and anyone else who suspects they've done the same should know there's nothing wrong with that.

This past Sunday was one of those days. After a blitzkrieg of a rainstorm, the sky opened up in Fort Collins, and the smiling faces of families and newly arrived college students filled the streets of the historic downtown. I picked through records and used books (finally securing something from Elmore Leonard) and wandered through the campus of Colorado State University, unexpectedly envious of the conversations that would be held within the walls of the gray-brick buildings over the coming days.

Students biked by and exited the university's gym, while I enjoyed the shade provided by oak trees as the pines lent a sharp, fresh scent to the grounds. It reminded me of my walks through the Ole Miss campus, where a street of magnolia trees kept me dry during the rainfall on dense southern afternoons.

I sat beneath the protection of tall trees and foliage in the garden of Stodgy Brewing Company, watching dogs exercise their canine charm by visiting surrounding tables for chin scratches and harmless, somewhat disconcerting, pampering.

Obviously, Cheyenne is capable of similar pleasures.

Later, I listened to the rain dance outside my window while my brand new copy of "Promises" by Floating Points, London Symphony Orchestra and Pharoah Sanders played in its entirety. The day prior, I hung a new woodpecker-feeder from the tree in my front yard that I'm just hoping will catch the eye of some neighborhood northern flickers. Maybe they don't like Scarface and Marvin Gaye, two artists who could easily be heard emanating from my house that day.

But Cheyenne's got more about it than people realize. I also spent Saturday afternoon hammocking in Lions Park and watching the clouds go by, thinking I could almost hear them whisper through the gentle breeze.

The more that Wyomingites — and more specifically, Cheyennites — are concerned about what goes on outside the state, the less they'll contribute at home. You'll never finish a self-portrait if you're too busy criticizing someone else's final product.

"Don't Colorado my Wyoming" is a dismissive, snot-nosed perspective to carry. Even worse, it's lazy — passing the blame as if the entity is beyond your control. Carrying that mindset is the reason why some local events I've seen are under-attended, why local restaurants and shops struggle to make ends meet, and why, as I write almost every week, minority groups continue to feel threatened in our community.

That reminds me of another comparative platitude: "Wyoming is what America was."

A loaded saying, to say the least. Is it referring to isolationist policy? Institutional racism? (see: segregation) Pre-union working conditions? Slaughtering American bison until they're nearly extinct, then making the animal's likeness the central image of the Wyoming state flag? Hopefully not.

I like to think it means that the average Wyomingite strives to be independently inclined, determined, reliable, kind (but not effusive), and finds peace in the knowledge that cattle outnumber the state's population three-to-one.

Wyoming is the human soul personified — cold, rugged and desolate; containing relentless beauty, battered by implants of a new, daunting, fast-approaching way of life. It has a heart of its own, and honest love toward the land will be reciprocated as one must love themselves.

It isn't about any individual, or the state of Colorado or the entirety of the United States, as some, in their infinite wisdom, might perceive it to be. Cheyenne is nothing more than the sum of its parts, and nothing great was ever founded in fear.

Show the community some love this Friday by taking part in the First Friday ArtWalk from 5-8 p.m. There are new shows popping up all around the city's art galleries, so grab a drink and make your way through the artistic offerings of downtown Cheyenne.

The rest of the weekend is up to you. Make it a good one.

Will Carpenter is the Wyoming Tribune Eagle's Arts and Entertainment/Features Reporter. He can be reached by email at wcarpenter@wyomingnews.com or by phone at 307-633-3135. Follow him on Twitter @will_carp_.