Opinion

What Do Ranch Dogs Think About?

Publisher — Sat, 25 Jul 2026 09:00:00 +0000

What Do Ranch Dogs Think About?

Publisher Sat, 07/25/2026 - 11:00

Something to Chew On

Virginia Parker

Yesterday I watched a rancher backing a horse trailer into a parking spot while two dogs sat on the flatbed of his pickup. They weren’t barking. They weren’t pacing. They weren’t hanging over the side trying to catch flies. They simply watched, you know the look.

The old dog had his chin resting on the edge of the bed with that expression that says, I’ve seen this show before. The younger dog sat bolt upright, ears forward, eyes bright, convinced something spectacular was about to happen.

I found myself wondering what ranch dogs think about. I suspect they spend a surprising amount of time wondering why humans insist on making simple things so complicated. Take backing up a trailer. The old dog was probably thinking, Easy...easy...whoa...now straighten it out. Nope. Too much. We’ve done this every summer for twelve years… How is this still difficult?

The young dog, meanwhile, was practically vibrating. “We’re moving! The trailer’s moving! Horses! Adventure! Dust! Maybe cows! This is incredible!”

Then it occurred to me that every ranch dog probably has an entirely different view of the world.

A Border Collie wakes up every morning with a clipboard. “Today’s objectives: gather cattle, organize horses, supervise children, sort chickens alphabetically, and convince the humans they’re behind schedule.” Border Collies don’t simply walk across a pasture. They manage it. If three cows are facing the wrong direction, they notice. If one sheep wanders six inches too far, they’re already correcting the situation before anyone else even realizes there was a problem. If they were human, they’d own a whistle, carry a clipboard and remind everyone that the meeting should have started fifteen minutes ago.

A Blue Heeler, on the other hand, wakes up every morning choosing chaos. “If everybody isn’t moving, I’ll fix that.” Cows, horses, kids, chickens, UPS drivers. It doesn’t matter. Movement is mandatory. Heelers believe every living thing should be hustling somewhere. Preferably faster. If ranches ever had football teams, Heelers would be the assistant coaches yelling, Move! Move! Move!

Then there’s the Great Pyrenees. Their inner conversation is much simpler. “I have checked the perimeter. Nothing has exploded. Carry on.” Pyrenees don’t hurry. Ever. They know they’re bigger than everyone else, and they’re quietly confident about it. If a coyote shows up, they’ll handle it. If a bear wanders through...Well...The bear may wish he’d chosen another neighborhood. Until then they’re going back to their nap.

An Australian Shepherd is convinced everything is a game. “You throw the ball. I’ll bring it back. Then we’ll gather the horses. Then we’ll chase that butterfly. Then we’ll reorganize the universe before lunch.” They possess enough enthusiasm for three normal dogs. Unfortunately, they usually express all of it before breakfast.

Now an old bird dog, maybe an English Setter or a Springer Spaniel, is a philosopher. She isn’t thinking about cows. She’s remembering. She remembers the smell of wet September mornings. The whistle that meant birds were holding tight. The excitement of flushing a covey. The pride in her person’s voice after a perfect retrieve. Her legs may ache now and her muzzle has turned white. Her hearing isn’t what it once was and her eyes are dim, but every time the pickup door opens, part of him still believes today might be opening day.

Even the ranch mutt has opinions. Usually they’re food-related. “That sandwich you’re eating looks lonely.” “I believe bacon should be shared.” “I saw you drop something. I can help.” I’ve owned enough dogs to know one universal truth. They all believe they’re employed. Nobody has informed them otherwise. They aren’t sitting around waiting for supper. They’re standing watch. Ready to drop a soggy stuffed animal in your shoe to remind you it’s your duty to play fetch. Inspecting fence and monitoring squirrels. Keeping track of horses and watching strangers. Making sure the boss gets home.

And speaking of squirrels...No discussion about dogs would be complete without mentioning them. I swear squirrels spend their mornings holding tiny staff meetings devoted entirely to annoying dogs. One chatters from the bird feeder while another runs halfway down the tree. A third hangs upside down from the hummingbird feeder just to show off. Meanwhile every ranch dog is thinking exactly the same thing. “One of these days...”

Of course, every ranch dog eventually becomes an old ranch dog. The gray appears around the eyes. The steps slow down. They jump onto the pickup in two tries instead of one. Sometimes they choose to watch from the shade instead of chasing every horse. But don’t mistake slower for retired. They’re still supervising. Still watching. Still quietly keeping track of everything happening on the ranch.

Yesterday those two dogs never barked once while their owner wrestled with that trailer. They didn’t criticize. They didn’t offer suggestions. They simply watched with the patience that comes from experience, well, mostly. Eventually the trailer slid into place. The horses loaded and the truck pulled away. The old dog settled back down with what I swear looked suspiciously like satisfaction. The young dog looked thrilled just to be going somewhere. As for me, I drove away convinced ranch dogs understand something the rest of us often forget. You don’t have to be the loudest one on the place to be the most valuable. Sometimes the smartest fellow on the ranch is sitting quietly in the back of the pickup, watching the humans try to figure things out. If those dogs could talk, I’m fairly certain we’d discover they’ve been laughing at us all along.

Gardening Helps Your Spirit Grow

Publisher — Sat, 25 Jul 2026 09:00:00 +0000

Gardening Helps Your Spirit Grow

Publisher Sat, 07/25/2026 - 11:00

The Carbon County Traveler

Mike Armstrong

My father was an avid gardener.

I always attributed this to his upbringing as a dairy farmer’s son.

His family had 200 acres and since my grandfather died of an infection from a corn splinter, I know they grew corn.

My father had vegetable gardens and flower gardens on our acre plot of land in the suburbs of Washington D.C. from the day we moved in.

My stepmother loved flowers so we had five substantial flower garden beds around our home. We also had a very large vegetable garden. We grew corn, broccoli, okra, cauliflower, green beans, tomatoes, carrots, lettuce and spinach.

He also had a vegetable garden in the community plots of our neighborhood and a vegetable garden in our church plots.

It is no hyperbole to say I learned a lot about gardening from him.

I also wondered why a man so busy with his job in NASA was so committed to gardening.

My mother was committed to growing plants also.

Especially when she and my stepfather bought an old farm, that initially was founded in the late 1700s, just outside the D.C. suburbs.

It had an orchard that included peaches, pears and apples. There is nothing better than fruit picked right off the tree. She had three rows of grapes vines which were great to eat. Then she had a vegetable garden near the original house–that was only a couple rooms. The big house with its huge porch on the front had flower gardens all around it. She also had flower gardens at the entrance which was gated.

I should note, at least one of her homes, I think there were actually three all total, were featured in magazines that showed off gardens. She did a wonderful job.

The farmhouse property had blackberry bushes, raspberry bushes, a large strawberry patch and mulberry trees. In summertime, there was a lot of fruit to munched on.

It was one of my favorite places she lived.

My mother always had demanding jobs, mostly at IBM, yet she made time for her plants.

There was a lot of work on the upkeep of all the vast gardens both families had. My sister and I were slave labor for all practical purposes, but to be fair, I bet many kids think this growing up.

Although weeding was a pain, I really came to appreciate the results when plants were taken care of.

Both sets of families had so many flowers in the spring and summertime, we picked them to go in vases and spread them throughout the house.

I liked that.

My father’s home in Laurel, Maryland was the only place I ever gardened for him, for the most part, because we had the house 20 years.

My mother had a dozen or so houses that I helped her with. Most of the gardens were flower gardens, so that is what I became specialized in.

She even had a greenhouse at one place for growing African violets.

When I went off into the world, gardening became non-existent. I lived in places that had yards, but no gardens and I didn’t bother to put any in. My ex-wife and I lived together for seven years, but it was always in condos, so we never had to worry about landscaping.

I did have house plants.

When I moved to Hawaii, the mansion I lived in for a little while had a gardener and it was Japanese style. Mostly shrubs. The youth hostel in Waikiki that I managed later and lived at, had some trees, but again, no flowers except Birds of Paradise, which grew everywhere. Although way more beautiful, they were as prevalent as dandelions are in Wyoming.

Taiwan was lush but I lived in apartments. The restaurant I founded had a herb garden but a friend took care of it for us. She got drinks whenever she came in. We grew Poinsettas there too, but they took little care and grew huge and beautiful.

My first time living in Australia, I did a little gardening to help the people where I was staying. I was living outside Brisbane and it is a very tropical city. The garden I helped with was established and I basically did just some weeding.

Then came my first home purchase which was in Saratoga.

I bought it just before I was moving back to Australia for the second time.

It was a little townhouse (it was across from the Country Store for those who know those townhomes) about six weeks before heading to the land of Oz.

Before leaving, I put in a couple small gardens in the backyard. The person I rented it to, told me she would take care of these new creations.

It is funny.

Even though I was leaving in a matter of weeks, I got into making the backyard a place of beauty by planting a bunch of perennials. I guess all those years of helping my folks kicked in.

Australia was great and the apartment complex I lived in had gardens and shrubs around the pool, but I never did any gardening at all. Noosa, the town where I lived, was actually one wild garden spot.

Coming back to Wyoming, I discovered my tenant had not been so great about taking care of my gardens, but that made me that more committed. When I drive by to this day, I see a couple trees in the front yard that I planted that are now huge.

I lived in the townhouse for a little over a year before I bought my home in Hanna.

I looked at several places in Hanna before I came across this place that had an amazing second story patio that overlooked some terraced gardens that had been made with railroad ties.

It had no other gardens, and the backyard was devoid of grass; it was all brick/rock chips.

At the suggestion of a buddy who visited me from California, and was an avid gardener himself, I let the backyard come back with grass on half of it. On The other half, I used river rocks and rocks from the prairie and made a patio with small gardens inside it.

I also put in gardens in the front yard where there had been none.

This wasn’t done overnight.

It was a true work in progress.

Plus, I would leave the home for years at a time.

When I would get back, I would have some work to do, but I don’t remember it being unmanageable.

Then two things happened that made my gardening be taken up a notch or two about 10 years ago.

First, I was tired of living overseas.

Shanghai was an amazing city to live in and I had a job that gave me a lot of pleasure. I learned so much about the liquor industry, importing and marketing; in many ways it was my dream job.

But I missed my family, my dog and living in America.

I decided my days of being a nomad overseas were over and I was putting down roots.

The second thing that happened, I bought the house next door. It had no yard, just brown dirt and some scraggly weeds. The backyard had remnants of tiered rock gardens, but no flowers were to be found.

Now that I was back, I started reclaiming my gardens that had gone bad and putting in new ones. The house next door also got a half dozen gardens put in. The house where I resided most, I put 13 gardens going throughout the property.

I battled deer eating a lot of my early plants and discovered Cat’s Mint (also known as a butterfly bush), Iris, daffodils, Russian Sage and certain bushes, the deer left alone.

It was a lot of work and each summer, I was lucky enough to have a high school kid or two to help me with yard work.

I was able to keep up with my 19 gardens (some are very small) until a couple years ago.

Work truly took over my life and the past couple summers, it was all I could do to keep the yards mowed.

My upstairs patio has potted flowers, so I guess I got a little gardening fix by taking care of the plants up there.

My downstairs rock patio had all but disappeared to grass that grew to knee’s height. Cat’s Mint and the other deer repelling flowers mostly survived and they mixed with the grasses that were taking over.

Two summers of neglect were taking their toll.

This June, I decided I had to back down on my workload and made a tough decision to back off on all the hours that was consuming my life.

Doing so has given me time to start reclaiming my yards.

Sure weeding and pulling up grass is hard, grueling work. But as I reclaim my rock patio and its small gardens, there is an accomplishment that is really giving my spirit some uplift.

I had forgotten how good it feels to see this beauty.

It is still very much a work in progress, and I take it little day by day. Still discovering a flower or shrub that had been hidden from view gives me great pleasure as I uncover it.

I understand truly why my father took out time every night when he got home from work to spend an hour or two in his gardens.

Growing plants gives a sense of accomplishment and reclaiming what was almost lost, is another great feeling too.

It gives me a sense of pride to know that I am bringing gardens back from the brink.

I would equate that with how I see life now.

Letting grass take over and ignoring how it is destroying the beauty of what a person has worked years on, does the spirit no favors.

Likewise, letting work consume everything will eventually do damage.

Balance is everything.

As I look back, I realize now why both my parents were avid gardeners.

Growing flowers and vegetables gives a real sense of accomplishment that I guess I would call primal.

Work brings in money, no doubt about it. You need funds to survive in this age we live in.

But too much work can crush a person and their spirit.

That is just not healthy.

Growing things from the earth nurtures the spirit.

Are We Still Happy

Publisher — Sat, 18 Jul 2026 18:15:00 +0000

Are We Still Happy

Publisher Sat, 07/18/2026 - 20:15

For five or six months, I have been writing essays complimentary of our small town virtues and unique qualities. I ask for conversations in every essay. I offer my telephone and email contact information, but crickets dominate my response channels. So, this issue of Let’s Talk will be more of the same, but different, in the hope that someone, anyone, will be inspired to respond.

Are we still happy, after 250 years since declaring our freedom from an unHappy relationship? That’s what we said, ‘way back then. We said, we are endowed with unalienable Rights, principally, Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

There it is, emphatically, Happiness!

Examining the founding American principles, Life and Liberty are pretty easy to understand. (Although I would argue that Freedom is a better term in meaning than Liberty.)

So then, what is happiness in 2026? Jefferson and Madison (drafters of the Declaration) initially considered the term “Property”, not “Happiness”. The reasoning was that if man or woman possesses the right to exist (the right to Life), they must also possess the right of individual Liberty in Life for self-determination and independent action.

Why then did Madison and Jefferson edit out Property and select Happiness? I suggest that Life and Liberty are the prerequisite conditions for existence. Happiness, on the other hand, is the qualifier underpinning successful existence. Property suggests ownership, but Happiness includes both property and the enjoyment of ownership. Property can be tangible and intangible. Enjoyment of property is always intangible, measurable only in uniquely individual terms.

When I began thinking on the concept of this essay in terms of Rawlins, Carbon and Wyoming, Westward-Ho! Ideas popped into my view. Small town people, still with one foot in our wild-west culture, ranches, railroads, Tribes, sheep, pioneering farmers and merchants, migrants, immigrants bearing the cultures of their origins, crowded my thoughts. So many opinions and experiences to imagine and perhaps consider! All of which color the meanings of Property and Happiness. Happiness, in my opinion, still is the most applicable term for the American Declaration.

Your opinion, perhaps multiple opinions will reflect you and your Happiness experiences.

For me, Happiness is simple, not the same thing as satisfaction, pride of achievement, accomplishment, comfort and such. I asked myself, “What makes me Happy?”

Many things make me happy. Things, I suppose, that most other people would not readily identify as Happiness. For example, my first thought and a very persistent thought was the voice of Dolly Parton. Dolly, speaking or singing, laughing or serious. I do not know Dolly, never met her and I doubt I ever will, in fact, I have no ambition to do so. Dolly’s voice though, is securely welded to my personal senses of happiness and well-being. I truly hope that you have a similar sense of Happiness and appreciate that Property so essential to Freedom.

With my home of a decade in Rawlins, Carbon county,in Wyoming, I am still learning to appreciate aspects of Happiness as I experience them.

For ten years in Rawlins, I have advocated enthusiastically for self-reliance and friendly cooperation among the people and organizations of our small town communities, with my primary focus in Rawlins.

I paid my political dues in California. Ran for U.S Congress with seven votes to show for the effort. I was pretty effective litigating the California Motor Vehicle Code until the judges insisted (quoting), “Yes, that is the law, but that is not how we do it here.”

I can take a hint, so I came to a more rational place. Wyoming!.A great place, great people, too.

Excluding the coastal Atlantic, Pacific, Gulf and Great Lakes metropolitan domains, the great American Heartland, (so-called “flyover country”) contains the heart and soul of Americans as we believe ourselves to be.

In my writing, speaking and activities, I find only minor disagreement. What I do find, is a unanimous reluctance to say that out loud.

Help me to understand why. Let’s talk!

Henry Nicolle - 307-321-4505

Gone Bananas in Wyoming

Publisher — Sat, 18 Jul 2026 18:15:00 +0000

Gone Bananas in Wyoming

Publisher Sat, 07/18/2026 - 20:15

There are some things you expect to find in Wyoming. It’s a given you will encounter antelope, sagebrush, and wind. Bananas however, do not leap to mind. After all, bananas come from tropical places where people wear flip-flops year around and shiver when the temperature drops below 70 degrees. Yet, somehow grocery stores, even in the tiniest villages in Wyoming, will have bananas. Even when snow is blowing sideways past the window and locals are day dreaming of moving to Arizona, or maybe just a cruise to the islands, there will be bananas.

Think about that for a minute. A banana begins its life in a warm jungle somewhere near the equator. It travels thousands of miles by truck, train, and boat where they are taken to warehouse before arriving in Carbon County, Wyoming where the are taken into a pickup parked near a pile of dirty snow five feet high, a bag of ice melt and a bale of hay.

Wow, if bananas could talk! That has to be some culture shock. Imagine the banana spending it’s first day in Wyoming, looking around nervously. Thinking, “Where are the palm trees?” “What’s a snow fence?” “What’s a white out?”

The truly humorous scene that I find somewhat fascinating is watching someone buy bananas. Nobody buys just one. We all stand there examining bunches, like we’re buying a 4H goat.

“Too green.” “Too yellow.” “Too many spots.” Eventually we buy four or seven, fully believing we will eat every one of them.

By the end of the week, unless you have a granddaughter like my Amelia, only two have been eaten, one is hiding behind the toaster, and the four remaining look like they’ve spent the winter living in an ice hut on the lake.

Overripe bananas seem to bring ingenuity to the forefront. Nobody throws them away, no way! A banana can be so brown and wrinkled it’s eligible for Social Security and someone will say, “I’m saving those! They’ll make great banana bread.” Quick bread is the retirement plan for fruit, and occasionally a zucchini as well. The older and more wrinkled a banana becomes, the more valuable it is. If people worked that way, half the folks at the morning coffee gathering would be priceless (and some are).

Banana bread is just the beginning. My friends have all kinds of recipes for aging bananas. Mash them into pancake batter, freeze them for smoothies, put them in cereal or dip them in chocolate. One local I know makes peanut butter and banana sandwiches, another claims oatmeal is tolerable if you put banana slices in it. I find this somewhat disturbing and hard to swallow. (Pun intended)

A rancher I know puts them in everything except the branding fire and diesel.

If you research banana usage, you will find literally thousands of recipes for banana muffins, banana cookies, banana cream pie (OK, that one made my mouth water), banana pudding and banana cake. There are no limits to what can be accomplished once a banana develops freckles.

Question, “How do they get the banana slices suspended in Jello?”

I am curious, at what point did someone point at an aged banana and say, “What if we added flour, sugar, cinnamon, walnuts, cream cheese frosting and a little prayer?” Thus another recipe was born into existence.

You have to admire a banana’s optimism. They arrive green and hard, slowly evolve into something bright yellow and cheerful and then…life happens. A few bumps, bruises and dark spots. Before long they start looking a little weathered, much like the rest of us. Yet somehow, they have value. What’s not to love? They are proof that a few wrinkles don’t mean you’re done, sometimes the best part is yet to come!

So, the next time you see those bananas sitting on the counter, looking a little past their prime, don’t be too quick to judge. They may be only a few days away from becoming some of the best banana bread you’ve ever had. Well, maybe not the best ever, because we all know that someone else in our family has the recipe for the best banana bread ever. Whether it’s a grandma, an aunt or the ancient neighbor down the street, there’s always another recipe for banana bread. It may be written on the back of a brown paper bag, typed neatly on an index card or even carefully added to a recipe book created on your laptop, but it is the best according to someone.

Let’s move out of the kitchen for a moment and contemplate the banana as it relates to other areas of our lives. As children we were convinced that banana peels were scattered across sidewalks waiting to launch some unsuspecting pedestrian into low Earth orbit. Personally, I have never encountered a banana hazard on the sidewalk or in the wild. Mostly I have found candy wrappers, coffee cups, and occasionally dog poo. Never a banana peel. Still, it has been burned into our brains to avoid them! “Danger, danger, Will Robinson.” (If you’re younger than 60 you may not understand that last remark, but you can Google it).

So, my hat’s off to you, banana! You are portable, nutritious, affordable and apparently immortal. You come with your own wrapper and pull tab to unzip the goodness within. You have made us laugh, provided amazing desserts at family reunions, summer picnics, church gatherings, and farmers markets. You are immortal. Not many fruits can claim that.

Journey to 250 Leaves a Lasting Impression

Publisher — Sat, 18 Jul 2026 18:00:00 +0000

Journey to 250 Leaves a Lasting Impression

Publisher Sat, 07/18/2026 - 20:00

About 18 months ago, I attended a February meeting of the Carbon County Commissioners where the Carbon County Semiquincentennial Committee, also known as the 250 Year Committee, was established. I remember Candy Moulton and Tim Niklas being there, putting forth their ideas and mentioning names who would be on the committee.

Sue Jones was the liaison for the Carbon County Commissioners.

Little did I realize what an amazing feat this group would accomplish.

I got an early glimpse of their plans when members of the committee attended a Discover Carbon County board meeting to propose producing a film.

I happen to be on the board and Candy did a great job of getting everyone excited about what she hoped to accomplish for the County and its residents.

It was to be a documentary on Carbon County and it was called “Journey to 250.”

Candy, an experienced filmmaker, was going to write and produce it. The Discover Carbon County board thought it was a great idea and gave the green light.

My next experience with the Semiquincentennial Committee was when they came to Medicine Bow to film a segment at the Virginian Hotel, where I was working that day.

As a reporter, I got to cover the action and grabbed an interview with Candy.

I was impressed with the reenactment I saw at the old historic hotel and I got to watch it being filmed.

I especially enjoyed Elk Mountain Mayor Morgan Irene and his wife dressed up in their period costumes.

I take learning history seriously, probably because since I was very young, it was impressed on me that my heritage, culture and history are extremely important.

I am a native Virginian and when going to school in Arlington, Virginia, outside of Washington D.C., I was taught to be very proud of our State and National heritage. During those couple of school years living in Virginia, I learned about our forefathers who were Virginians, eight of whom were presidents. Virginia has the distinction of producing the most presidents of any State.

Moving to Maryland did not take away from my learning about how great our history was. Every year, and I mean every year, we went to the national museums that were less than an hour away.

When I first went to college, I was a political science major. My first poly/sci professor, Parris Glendenning, was Maryland’s governor from 1995 to 2003.

He was a great guy.

I had a couple of office appointments with him and he taught me quite a lot I didn’t know about when the country was created.

For instance, the Second Continental Congress, which gathered in Philadelphia, voted for the independence of the United Colonies by passing the Lee Resolution on July 2, 1776. The Lee Resolution, also known as “The Resolution for Independence”, was the formal assertion passed by the Second Continental Congress on July 2, 1776, saying that the Thirteen Colonies were free and independent States and separate from Britain. Technically, this created the United States. News of the resolution was published in The Pennsylvania Evening Post and the following day in The Pennsylvania Gazette. The resolution is named for Richard Henry Lee of Virginia, who proposed it after receiving instructions and the wording from the Fifth Virginia Convention. I know this well, because of course we were tested on it.

The Declaration of Independence, which officially announced and explained the case for independence, was approved two days later, on July 4, 1776. The Declaration of Independence, mainly written by Committee of Five member Thomas Jefferson, was proclaimed on July 4, the date on which the anniversary of independence is observed.

I find it interesting, there were no major government sponsored 50th anniversary observances on July 4, 1826. In 1876, the United States organized nationwide centennial observances centered on the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, and in 1926, a Sesquicentennial Exposition was held in Philadelphia, and in 1976, United States Bicentennial observances were held throughout the country.

I did not last as a poly/sci major, but I did end up working on Capitol Hill for a few years and worked for one Senator who ran for president. He didn’t go far, but I learned quite a lot about politics.

Back then, there were strong politicians that were conservatives and strong politicians that were liberals. What I liked about that time in our history, members from each party reached across the aisle for the good of America. There was very little name calling and there was respect on both sides even if you did not believe in the politics of the other party.

Getting to watch what the Semiquincentennial Committee was pulling off, made me happy that there was no politics being interjected, just a celebration of history and how Carbon County was a part of it.

I enjoyed the magazine they put out tremendously and encourage all to read “Journeys to Carbon County, Celebrating America 250”.

It is well done.

Then there were the events the Semiquincentennial Committee pulled together for visitors and residents to enjoy. Rawlins was humming with celebration this past weekend.

I enjoyed it better than the 4th of July to be honest.

I don’t say I enjoy being an American better than anyone else, but I really appreciate that for 250 years we have been a country that promotes freedom.

We have our problems, but we endured a civil war, and have gotten past a lot of bad times, such as McCarthyism.

I am sensitive to having freedoms because living in communist China for five years which taught me that freedom of the press, speech, religion and to vote for who we believe in, cannot be taken for granted.

I saw firsthand how these freedoms can be taken away by a government. I encountered people who were terrified of saying anything critical about their leaders.

It was just so sad.

So, I want to thank all those involved who made the 250-year celebration for Carbon County happen.

I saw there were a lot of smiles at the events being put forth.

A great movie came out of this celebration too.

Best of all, we got to enjoy America through Carbon County activities and celebrate this wonderful benchmark of our Country being 250 years old.

What is “America”?

Publisher — Sat, 11 Jul 2026 05:00:00 +0000

What is “America”?

Publisher Sat, 07/11/2026 - 07:00

Let's Talk

Henry Nicolle

Hello everyone,

If or when you read these thoughts, please remember these are my own opinions.

It is Thursday, July 2nd as I type these comments. You may read this after the weekend celebration of the 250th anniversary of the American Declaration of Independence. America, as we believe it to be, exploded with the “Shot Heard ‘Round the World!”. Our initial 150 years of evolution and conflicted success have evolved to return Americans to the state of our original circumstances, which galvanized our assertion of independence.

American governing institutions are structured in a republican (representative) form with limited democratic processes. The direct influence of voters (electors) on government ends with their ballot for a candidate seeking public office. Virtually all other “democratic processes” are removed from effective public influence. Make your voice count while the opportunity to exercise exists.

Our small communities of Carbon County provide the practical effect of our individual ballots having more significant influence than those of voters in larger communities. Our candidates are our familiar neighbors, friends and family. We know them better than might be otherwise observed in communities where neighbors are strangers to each other. We can evaluate candidate competence, reputation and intent by our direct, personal experience and observation.

For what it’s worth, our midterm elections begin in only a few weeks. If you have an opinion regarding your community, this is your opportunity to influence your community’s guidance and structure. Ignorance, apathy and lethargy, are dangerously embarrassing. Get involved, at least momentarily and anonymously, by casting a ballot.

Here is the current election schedule. Visit the County of Carbon offices or website for complete information and a candidate list with their contact information. Talk to them. Please!

July 21 - Primary Election Absentee Voting Begins

August 5 - 24 - General Candidate Filing for School Board and Special District candidates

August 18 - PRIMARY ELECTION DAY

October 6 - General election: Absentee Voting Begins

November 3 - GENERAL ELECTION DAY

So folks, get out there and make your opinion count. Look at the candidates you may prefer. If you pick a candidate because you like their appearance or the way they act with a couple of beers, just remember, they will be making decisions that influence your life, your family and your freedom. Once in office in Wyoming, it is very difficult to remove them. You’re probably stuck with your decision for years!

In our small communities, you will likely meet them on the street and may want to talk about disagreeable civic issues. Choose carefully at the ballot.

I have been writing opinions for many years, here in Carbon County, California, Washington State and Missouri. I rarely write “happy talk”. Other writers do a much better job than I can.

I have opinions. Everyone has opinions. We can discuss opinions. Our opinions are reflected in our conversations. We don’t have to agree all of the time. Whether we agree or not, conversations confirm, mold and alter our opinions. That is a good thing, in my opinion. We should talk.

My commentaries and opinion columns are intended to invite, perhaps provoke, dialogue and conversation. Conversations comparing opinions and knowledge are much more desired, educational and perspective expanding. So much more interesting than solo performances. Let’s talk! Join me in this column or on the radio and Internet. You’re invited and encouraged to get out on the high-wire, down the rabbit hole, out of the wading pool and into deep and maybe hot water. Do the red pill, leave the blue pill for community milquetoasts. Have some fun.

Thank you for reading!

My new opinion website is: www.smalltownopinion.

Helping Hands, Open Hearts

Publisher — Sat, 11 Jul 2026 05:00:00 +0000

Helping Hands, Open Hearts

Publisher Sat, 07/11/2026 - 07:00

Something to Chew On

Virginia Parker

It’s easy to get caught up in stories about what’s wrong in the world. Turn on the television, scroll through social media, and you’d think kindness had packed its bags and moved somewhere else. But kindness is just an arm’s length away here in the valley we call home.

One of the things that impresses me about this little valley is the staggering number of resources available for people who need a helping hand. The amazing part isn’t just what’s available, it’s how quietly it’s offered. No fanfare. No spotlight. Just neighbors helping neighbors. Donations of food, clothing and other items are given generously when the need is made known.

Take Helping Hands, for example. If you’ve never been there, you might be surprised by what’s available. They have an incredible collection of medical equipment that people can borrow or when life suddenly changes. Wheelchairs, walkers, crutches, shower chairs, grabbers, hospital beds, and other mobility aids fill the shed. They even stock everyday necessities like denture adhesive because it was donated to them by someone no longer in need. The numbers for contacting a volunteer are on the door of the shed, which is actually a good-sized building behind the BMO bank.

Then there are our food pantries, one in Saratoga and another in Encampment. Like so many small towns across Wyoming, they do much more than hand out canned goods. They help provide fresh meat, pantry staples, personal hygiene products, and other everyday necessities that can make all the difference when budgets get tight.

Drive by the Episcopal Church, and you’ll notice the little pantry outside. Clair’s Cupboard is filled with non-perishable food, available whenever someone needs it. No paperwork. No appointments. No questions. Just take what you need, and if you’re able, leave something for the next person.

Children haven’t been forgotten either. There are bicycles available for youngsters who need one, giving them not only transportation but the simple joy of riding through summer with the wind in their hair.

A small Christmas tree sits on the porch, decorated not with ornaments, but with handmade hats, scarves, warm socks, gloves, and personal hygiene items ready for anyone who needs them. Later in the season, a coat tree appears, inviting people to simply take a warm coat. No questions asked. Just warmth waiting for someone who needs it.

The Ministerial Association is another remarkable example of compassion. They step in to help local families who have fallen on hard times, but they also lend a hand to travelers who unexpectedly find themselves stranded or in need. Sometimes all it takes is some fuel, a warm meal, or a night’s lodging to remind someone that kindness still exists, and quell the panic that comes with being in that situation.

The wonderful thing about all of this is that it happens quietly. There aren’t television cameras or ribbon cuttings. Most volunteers would rather stay anonymous than receive recognition.

That’s what small-town Wyoming has always done best. Be a community. Care about their neighbors, whether you’ve met them or not, whether they don’t speak English or they don’t speak at all.

Life has a funny way of humbling every one of us. Today you may be the one donating a walker or hanging a winter coat on the tree. Tomorrow you may be the one who needs a walker or a warm coat yourself. None of us knows what tomorrow will bring.

Maybe that’s why these programs matter so much. They remind us that asking for help isn’t weakness, and giving help doesn’t require wealth. Sometimes it simply requires noticing. Taking a chance and reaching out to ask, “Are you OK? Do you need some help?” If you don’t feel comfortable doing that, maybe mention it to someone who will.

So, the next time someone says there’s nothing special about a little town, smile and point them toward the nearest food pantry, the Helping Hands building, the little cupboard outside the church, or the winter coat tree.

They’ll discover what we’ve known all along.

The greatest resource in this county isn’t the mountains, the rivers, or the wide-open spaces.

It’s the people.

The Land of the Rising Sun

Publisher — Sat, 11 Jul 2026 05:00:00 +0000

The Land of the Rising Sun

Publisher Sat, 07/11/2026 - 07:00

I went to a show in Sinclair that featured a Japanese family on drums and flute that was quite simply fantastic.

I have seen a lot of Asian cultural events while living overseas, but this event was one of the best I have ever witnessed in person.

I went backstage and talked to the performers and it came up that I have been to Japan a few times.

It is funny, my first exposure to Japanese culture was in Hawaii.

During my couple of years of living on Oahu, in Waikiki for the most part, I was around a lot of Japanese people, either as tourists or Americans who were of Japanese descent and kept many of the aspects of the Japanese culture.

When I came to Hawaii, I didn’t have a job and no place to live. I was lucky that my sister had a two-week timeshare I was able to use while I got myself settled.

The place I found to live was in Kahala, the Beverly Hills of Honolulu. A baby mansion that I shared with four others. It was owned by an ethnic Japanese American woman in her 60s. She bought the place for her children as an investment. She was a bit traditional in her somewhat conservative ways. Her biggest rule was no overnight guests.

I got a job at a restaurant that catered to Japanese tourists and I quickly learned the phrase Oyshi desca? That means it ‘Does it taste good?’ I learned to say thank you, ‘Domo Arigato ’, and a couple of other sentences.

It was amazing to me how many retail workers in shops throughout Waikiki and Honolulu could speak some Japanese.

At this time, Japan was a monster economic power in the world and the Japanese tourists had a lot of spending power.

Kahala, which had homes that were the most expensive in the Honolulu area, had stories abounding of a Japanese tourist ringing the bell of an expensive house, offering double or triple the going price because they liked the look of it outside. This inflated the real estate market while I was there.

One thing I noticed was that Japanese wives almost always walked behind their husbands. It was really uncommon to see them hold hands or even walk side by side.

One of my strongest influences in life was a Japanese-American lady who was my boss at the Hale Aloha Youth Hostel.

I left my mansion to live on-site at the hostel in Waikiki.

Mrs. Akau, the owner of the hostel, had been a school teacher and her late husband had bought some properties and turned them into youth hostels that were under the umbrella of AYH (American Youth Hostel) Association. In other words, there were rules and standards that had to be followed.

They are very safe. There was no crime committed in the two years I worked for them.

The husband passed away before I worked for the Akaus. They had a hostel in Waikiki and one in Manoa next to the University. Thelma Akau was an inspiration. She believed in hard work and was always a teacher. Although we had workers who did cleaning, she had her managers and even her family clean bathrooms once a week at the hostel. She believed everyone should never feel they are above any job, owner or manager. She was 80 when I met her and to this day, I consider her one of the best people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. She told me stories of what it was like to work in the sugar cane fields, to be an ethnic Japanese American during World War II and to be a Japanese/American woman when it was not easy.

I learned a lot about Japan from her.

When I moved to Taiwan, I was around a lot of Japanese remnants from when Japan controlled the island.

Taiwan was made a colony in 1895 after China lost a war to Japan. The railroad system, which was quite good when I first arrived, was built by the Japanese. A lot of industry was developed, but during World War II.

I discovered a lot of Japanese cuisine in Taiwan, which I enjoy. As far as foreigners go, I did not meet a lot of Japanese in Taiwan. They were around, but not in force compared to other countries.

While living in Taiwan, I went to Okinawa to see the island. I remember this trip very well, because I did not have a hotel to go to. I was pulled aside at the airport and taken to a room. The authorities did not like that I did not have a place picked out. They figured that, because I was coming from Taiwan, I could stay in a Chinese-speaking hotel. Fortunately, I could speak enough Chinese, so this was not a problem. There is an irony about wanting to get exposed to some Japanese culture, because I met an American soldier from one of the nearby bases and I hung out with her for about a week. I saw Okinawa through American lenses.

I flew into Tokyo a couple of times and was there only a day or two. It is a massive city and that is what I remember. In Osaka, I was surprised to learn how little English was spoken at the airport. This is a huge airport and I struggled to get around. In Kyoto, I stayed a little bit longer and got the flavor of Japan.

Ramen shops were everywhere. I was staying at a Holiday Inn, so I was not too immersed in Japanese culture although I did get exposure. I found the big cities crazy expensive and that probably is why I didn’t go all that often.

Still, it felt good as I was talking to this family of performers, whom I knew a little about the country they came from.

I had not thought about visiting the country in years, but I was glad to be reminded of the good memories Japan and Japanese people brought forth.

Spurs that Jingle Jangle Jingle

Publisher — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 15:40:00 +0000

Spurs that Jingle Jangle Jingle

Publisher Sat, 07/04/2026 - 17:40

Something happens in your brain when you hear spurs jingle. You can’t help but smile a little. It’s the sound of the West. Whether they’re walking through a little country store or across the arena, it is a sound most recognize. You don’t hear it very often in big box stores or shopping malls, although I have encountered them in Walmart and Sam’s Club in Wyoming.

I hear it often in the Olde Trading Post, where folks come in wearing the boots they work in, pulling a horse trailer where a ranch horse is probably standing and waiting for the next job, and a dog sits in the front seat or balances in the bed, waiting for the next out of line cow.

Nobody thinks twice about the music of steel rowels tapping across the floor. The jingle says, “I don’t dress up to come in town; I’m just thirsty.”

The sound isn’t the version where everyone settles disagreements with a fistfight before breakfast or someone gets shot every other episode and “taken to the train station.” Around here, the only train station most folks remember is the one that shipped cattle, lumber from Ryan Park or dodged elk on the tracks between Saratoga and Encampment.

That sound carries stories of early mornings, dusty roads, hayfields, branding fires, cattle drives, rodeos and chores that couldn’t wait until after coffee. It’s a sound that belongs to people who measure distance in miles of fence rather than city blocks.

It isn’t noise; it’s kind of comforting. It means neighbors are stopping in, pausing work long enough to grab a sandwich, a cold drink or fill their mug with coffee. Some sit and visit for a bit.

The sound of spurs reminds me of the real cowboys and cowgirls, ranch hands and ranch owners. Not the kind you see on television. The polished version where every shirt is spotless, every hat is perfectly shaped and clean and cost more than a month’s worth of feed, spurs so shiny they could signal an airplane and some how they have time to brood dramatically while leaning on a fence. The real ones don’t wear brand new boots without a scuff or dirt, or jeans that have never met a barbed wire fence, unless it’s a special occasion.

Living in Wyoming teaches you something about authenticity. It isn’t something you can buy.

It’s sunburns, frozen fingers, worn leather, sore backs and years of showing up whether the weather cooperates or not. They’re the people up before sunrise, on less than three hours sleep because they have to check cows. They’re fixing fence, moving irrigation, doctoring calves, hauling hay, feeding horses and praying for rain. They are men and women that can back a stock trailer into a spot like threading a needle, bottle feed an orphaned calf and make it to town for groceries before heading home to finish chores. They do the work that matters.

That steak on your plate, or burger in your hand didn’t magically appear wrapped in plastic. Someone spent months, often years, raising that animal. The hay didn’t bale itself. Someone cut it, raked it, bailed it, stacked it, hauled it and hoped the weather would cooperate.

Ranch life isn’t glamorous. It’s mud, wind, dust, sore muscles, broken equipment, late nights and early mornings. It’s fixing what breaks because there isn’t anyone else to do it and teaching your kids to do it too. It’s helping your neighbors and not keeping score.

So, when those hard working, sweaty shirts, and dirty nails come in, the tourists stare, it’s a familiar jingle for most of us, but not for all. That jingle isn’t announcing a celebrity. It’s announcing someone that works damn hard and is dedicated. In a world that has once again become fascinated with the image of a cowboy, it’s easy to forget the people that live that life every single day. “You can’t see them from the road,” as Chris Ledoux said. They don’t need Hollywood to make them interesting. They live their lives the way they want to.

The grease under their fingernails from trying to coax an old truck tractor or swather back to life is honest and necessary. New equipment costs almost as much as a downpayment on a house. Their hair is full of dust, their shirts streaked with sweat and their faces wear a permanent tan, some with a lighter stripe where their hat sits. Their boots aren’t polished, and sometimes I have to sweep up the sweet smell of pasture after they leave. I’m sure that more than once they’ve climbed into their truck with boots full of water because they found a beaver damn the hard way or a hole in the ditch they didn’t expect. The calluses on their hands don’t come from lifting weights, they come from wire stretchers, branding irons, pitchforks, shovels, reins, chainsaws, and miles of fence that always need repair.

I’ve had visitors ask, “Is that a real cowboy?” with awe in their voices. “Was that a real gun on his hip?” “Do you know them?

I’m always honored to say, “Yes, that’s a real one alright, and yes I do know them.”

The beauty of the real West isn’t the image, it’s the work and the people and animals that face it every single day.

Three Years Later We Still Believe in Local News

Publisher — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 15:30:00 +0000

Three Years Later We Still Believe in Local News

Publisher Sat, 07/04/2026 - 17:30

It is hard to believe that the Carbon County Comet is going into its 4th year. We have completed 3 years in business. That means we have kept the paper going for 156 weeks continuously.

Wow.

This is one of the most substantial enterprises I have ever participated in.

It is mostly due to Dana Davis.

Although the name Carbon County Comet was my idea, it was Dana who really thought we could create a local paper that would cover the entire County.

We were never trying to compete with other local newspapers. Instead, we recognized that communities such as Elk Mountain, Hanna and Medicine Bow deserved consistent coverage, just as much as the towns in the Platte Valley, the county seat and the Little Snake River Valley.

The idea to do a paper that would be free in many outlets was not my idea, nor Dana’s. It was Tim Nicklas, Grand Encampment Museum’s Director.

Tim is a great friend and he thought a new local paper was a great idea. I remember we were having Margaritas at the Cantina. I was meeting Dana to talk over more details of starting a paper and Tim joined me while I waited.

Before Dana came, Tim started trying to sell me on the idea of making it free, as was done in Grand Lake, Colorado and other ski resort towns in that Rocky Mountain state.

Although Tim did not know the Post Office calls this a requestor paper, it was a model worth considering.

Dana met us while we were on our second margarita, and I admit I was receptive to Tim’s model.

I loved the idea of making sure as many Carbon County residents as possible could enjoy a local newspaper each week, regardless of their ability to pay for a subscription. I felt advertisers would support a paper they knew people were picking up.

Dana was not so sure.

It was not a common model in Wyoming.

But after that night of dissussing the Comet’s start, we decided to try this different model for our paper.

Very early, we started getting subscriptions. Which is extremely important for us in order to be able to publish legal notifications.

I was floored because I didn’t realize how popular subscribing would become. The post office in Hanna remembers when I celebrated our first five papers going out.

This meant we had to get a periodical rate or be crushed with cost. All told it was about six months of hard paper work and as our subscriptions grew, so did the cost.

The good news, while we were paying an extremely high rate, the Post Office was keeping track of it and would reimburse us the extra money we were spending once we secured the permit.

The Post Office put us through a rigorous test to make sure we were a legal newspaper. As I pointed out, it was not a quick process and we had some times where I thought it was going to take forever. The Hanna Post Office was great with their efforts to help us, but it took me getting hold of Fred Miller in the New York office to help us understand the criteria needed. He was helpful and accessible. He was also very thorough and made random calls to people and businesses that requested our paper.

Once we got that permit, post office fees went down and subscriptions increased. Our paper comes in bundles of 50 from the printer. Five bundles go to the Hanna Post Office every week.

Our online subscriptions are around 580 and another 950 copies are delivered to 120 locations throughout the county. In total, almost 2,000 people read our paper each week.

It is actually a little mind-blowing to me as we go into this 4th year.

I attribute a good part of our growth to the fact that Dana is a perfectionist. No picture goes in unless it is vetted by her and she is tough. Her graphics are award-winning. She was an editor before and if you know me, I am famous for not wanting to be an editor.

It has zero appeal to me.

Fortunately for the Comet, Dana is an excellent editor.

I have never questioned any paper we have done because Dana is so exacting. It is why we stay up late on Wednesday nights. If I am lucky, I might get a two or three hour nap, but I work mostly straight through the night until Thursday morning, when we have our deadline.

I have been doing this sleep cycle for three years now.

I won’t lie: it is not easy.

Dana and I believe our contributors, the people who take the time to write and send us articles, have been a huge reason our paper is well-liked. They help give us that local feeling with their stories and words. The Comet truly owes them a huge debt.

I can honestly say, I hear at least once a week, how good our paper is and to keep up the good work.

That keeps me (us) going when it is not so easy.

We also have some advertisers that have been with us from the beginning. When we first approached businesses, we were encouraged to start the paper and there were a few who pledged support from the outset.

Large or small, all the businesses you see advertising in the paper deserve support from the communities in Carbon County because they help keep the Comet free at the distribution points.

They understand they are helping a local paper survive in these times when many say a local paper is on the decline.

Then there are the people who help us stay abreast of the local news. We have one source that tells us they are “Team Comet”.

That person coined the term Dana and I use it for our supporters. People like this who are behind the scene, are invaluable. There are 10 communities we cover and when an educator, elected official, County employee or town employee keeps us aware of issues important to the residents, their contributions should not be overlooked.

This is what makes us a local paper.

We listen to input as best we can.

I think it helps Dana and me deliver papers to most of the distribution points ourselves. I say most of, because in Rawlins, my next-door neighbors, the Goodriches, who own the business “Give a Holler,” deliver 150 papers to different businesses in Rawlins for us. It is a huge help.

I finish Sinclair and the remaining businesses in Rawlins in the afternoon.

When I am delivering, I end up talking to all sorts of people, which really helps me know what is happening in the County.

Do we catch everything?

I would never even try to say that.

Carbon County is the third-largest county in the state, with 7,898 square miles of land. It is five times bigger than the state of Rhode Island and makes the states of Deleware and Connecticut look small. This is why having several papers in Carbon County is a good thing. At least that is how I have always seen it.

I think it is senseless when people feel they can support only one paper in Carbon County. I think the residents should be proud to have 4 local papers putting out news for people to enjoy.

We have had challenges over the past years of operation and taken some real hits, but somehow Dana and I have managed to keep the paper going, but again, with the help of contributors, supporters and advertisers.

I have led a pretty lucky life, all things told.

My jobs have varied. I have lived in a few different cultures and I have learned quite a lot from each one.

However, starting the Comet with Dana is the highlight of my life.

When we tell stories, such as Wee Folks’ plight of possible closure in Hanna a couple of years back, concrete actions were taken by educators and the public to save it.

How can we not feel that we do positive things?

Every time we get to write about a person who, in their day-to-day life does good for others, how can we not feel gratified? We give recognition to those folks’ efforts, even though they are not asking for recognition.

There are so many great stories that happen in Carbon County communities, and we get the honor to write about them and share them with the public.

Founding the Comet has been beyond rewarding, even though it is not without its challenges.

And the reward is due to the readers and supporters who make this little local paper possible.

As I see the Comet going into its 4th year, I say sincerely, thank you.