Len's Memory Blog

Denver Christmases (entry for 12/25/2024) Wherever we were at Christmas Time in Colorado during my child and teenage years, we always ended up in Denver on or near Christmas Day. And especially Christmas night. (Not ‘Eve.’ Night. The 25 th  itself.) We would drive from wherever we were staying that day to the City Center, and park, however far the parking spot was from where we were going. And no matter the weather. Because there was something we had to see. (There’s a modern photo of it at the head of this post.) Denver is one of the few cities I know of that is not  in  a county. It  is  the county. The City and County of Denver is one single governmental body and it does double duty, as its name implies. (I believe the same situation applies in San Francisco, California, and those are the only two examples I have ever heard of.) The government building of the combined body is called the City and County Building (for some strange reason!) and it is located at ...

Hurray for Ouray (entry for 12/18/2024) When we lived in Montrose, from 1949 to 1953, we spent a lot of time in the town of Ouray, 36 miles and about 45 minutes to the south. (A photo of the downtown area is at the head of this post.) We didn’t spend a lot of time in the town itself, because there were too many exciting things just  out  of town. The first one of these that we discovered was the naturally heated swimming pool, which the town claimed was the largest such in the world. (Not even close! There’s one in Glenwood Springs, 176 miles to the northeast, that is at least three times as large, and even that one is far smaller than one in the country of Slovenia. But if you’re hidden away in southwest Colorado, you can claim such things and who is going to check up on you?) Our Adventist Church youth group in Montrose went swimming there quite regularly, often on a Sunday when the crowds were small, or even on a Saturday night (they stayed open till 10). Two memorable thin...

     All the Same . . . (entry for 12/11/2024)  In January, 1959, the prestigious magazine Atlantic Monthly published a story by famed actor and author Peter Ustinov called ‘The Man Who Took it Easy.’ It was the third of a series of short stories and novellas commissioned by the magazine’s editor in chief, Edward A. Weeks, and written out in longhand by the actor/playwright.  (A photo of Ustinov is at the head of this post.) The plot involves the roller coaster career of a Hungarian violinist and composer who hates the Russian composer Stravinsky, because the latter is more successful than he is, with no discernible reason for the difference, so far as the story’s ‘hero’ can tell. The last line of the tale, when the protagonist has hit bottom, is: “All the same, . . . curse Stravinsky.” I was an English major at PUC at the time, and our major professor, J. Paul Stauffer, made the Ustinov stories required reading for one of the classes I was in. So, rather than f...

Rita (entry for 12/4/2024) Looking back over the 27 previous posts in this blog, I sense that there’s a subject I’ve been avoiding. The subject has appeared peripherally, here and there, but there has not been a post yet dealing with the topic itself. Or rather, herself. I’m talking about, of course, my sister. And if I’ve been avoiding her, as indeed I believe I have, there’s at least one good reason. I resented her from day one and never got over it. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I know it’s true. I was jealous. I had been the ‘angel baby’ in the family for four years and two and a half months, and suddenly there was another baby. Not an angel, certainly, but still, a baby. What was not to be jealous of!?! And yet . . . In addition to being jealous, I must admit to another feeling as well. I always admired her way with words. She could coin unheard of new words, and even unprecedented phrases, like no one else I have ever known. And she could also misunderstand words and come up with ...