I was born in Colorado. So were my parents, and their parents before them. That makes me a fourth-generation Coloradan, and in this state, that means something. I’ve knocked more dirt from my boots than most transplants have in their entire backyard. And on this Colorado Day, I want to talk, not just like a Weld County Commissioner, but like a native who still believes this place is worth fighting for.
Colorado turns 149 years old today. One year shy of 150, and you know what? She’s still beautiful. From the snow-capped peaks of the Rockies to the sweeping plains of the east, she’s got a kind of stubborn, weather-worn elegance you don’t find just anywhere. But lately, she’s been dressing a little weird. Hanging out with some questionable political friends. Talking like a coastal wannabe instead of the Rocky Mountain badass she used to be.
I love this state, but I barely recognize her anymore.
Colorado Is the West. Not the West Coast.
Let’s get one thing straight: Colorado is the West. Not the West Coast. Not the East Coast’s vacation home. The Rocky Mountain West. And being from the West means something. It means grit. It means minding your own damn business. It means taking care of your neighbors, not because the state told you to, but because that’s just how it’s done out here.
We live by the Code of the West, even if most people under the Dome in Denver couldn’t recite a single line of it. You know the one:
Do what has to be done.
Be tough, but fair.
When you make a promise, keep it.
Know where to draw the line.
Take pride in your work.
Ride for the brand.
And above all:
Live each day with courage.
But courage doesn’t mean passing some top-down bill that looks good in a donor email. Courage means showing up to brand calves, fix fence, sit through budget meetings, and then still make time to show up at your neighbor’s kid’s 4H fundraiser. It means working your ass off without complaint and maybe – maybe – grumbling about it to your buddy over a Coors later.
What the Hell Happened?
Here’s the part where I grit my teeth and say the uncomfortable thing: politically, Colorado is a damn mess. A dumpster fire.
It’s like the Capitol has been body-snatched. The people running the show seem less interested in representing Coloradans than impressing activists in Seattle and San Francisco. We’ve got state officials who think Weld County exists to be taxed and regulated, not respected. We’ve got Denver spending $3 million to get people to eat less meat, while folks in rural communities, where the meat is raised, are scraping to fix roads and keep basic services running. Don’t even get me started on the pipe dream bridge projects and the whackadoodle legislation that reads like it was written after a bong hit and a TED Talk.
You wonder why some people want to secede? Why they talk about joining Wyoming or forming the 51st state? It’s because they feel like their own state stopped listening. They didn’t leave Colorado, Colorado left them.
Now, do I agree with that whole secession idea? No. Not even close. I am a damn Coloradan. I understand it, sure. But abandoning Colorado isn’t the answer. Fixing it is.
Make Colorado Colorado Again
This isn’t about going back to the past. This is about reclaiming the backbone Colorado was built on.
We need to stop apologizing for being independent thinkers. We need to stop letting policy be dictated by people who wouldn’t last five minutes in a Weld County winter without whining for a government blanket and a stimulus check. And we need to remind ourselves that the reason people move here is because they’re craving the kind of life we already live – one built on freedom, responsibility, and mutual respect.
You don’t need to reinvent the wheel, you just need to remember how to drive the damn wagon.
Here’s What I Still Believe
I believe in this place. I believe in the farmers and ranchers who start their days before the sun and in the teachers who stay late to help a kid with math. I believe in water boards, school boards, and community clean-up volunteer crews. I believe in parades with tractors, and I believe in church potlucks where someone always makes deviled eggs, even if no one asked them to (more for me).
I believe Colorado is still in there, under the politics, under the posturing, under the legislative arrogance. I believe we still have a shot at making this place the home it’s always been for folks like me, and for the ones just showing up, if they’re willing to learn what being a Westerner really means.
So today, on Colorado Day, I’m not just looking back. I’m planting a flag. Not the kind you fly in protest, but the kind you build around. One that says: We’re still here. We still believe. And we’re not done.
Let’s make Colorado Colorado again.
Happy 149th birthday, you glorious, stubborn, high-altitude heartbreaker.
