June 1997: What I still like about Moab

by Jim Stiles

  Yeah. You read that right.

     Recently I received a letter from a reader who is serving time in prison. Her crime was as non-violent as it can be, but she is in there, elbow to elbow, with mother rapers and father stabbers. Good plan, huh?

     But my new subscriber, who I like to remind her, is in a temporary state of restricted freedom, struggled to be sympathetic to the plight of Moab and my malaise in particular. To paraphrase, if I may, she observed: "All that growth and development. A new Taco Bell. Condos. That's tough...you ought to try it in here, pal."

     Ok. Ok! I get your point. And that is why I spent some time recently counting my Moab Blessings, even if they do seem to be dwindling at an ever increasing rate.

     I compiled a Top Ten List:

     1) No Rush Limbaugh. This may be one of the few population centers in the United States where it's just about impossible to pick up the Great One's daily dose of vitriol. The nearest station broadcasting Rush is KUTA in Blanding. But it's a small station with not a lot of transmitting oomph and the signal fades somewhere around Church Rock. Grand Junction carries Limbaugh too, but it doesn't penetrate our valley very well during the daytime hours. In fact the signal only clears up nicely around midnight, just in time for Art Bell, where listeners don't call in to discuss Clinton's sex life.

     They talk about UFOs. But not about the possible existence of UFOs---that's a foregone conclusion. Instead, they'll debate what type of saucer was observed the night before...

     "Now caller, this craft that you saw...was it a Pleiadian ship, do you think? Was it a delta-wing design?"

     "No Art. It was an earlier model, I'm pretty sure."

     Two door or four door? Anyway, an improvement on Rush.

     2) No travel time. We are still small enough that calculating travel time to be prudent for an appointment is unnecessary. If the plan is to be somewhere at seven, we can leave at seven and be fashionably late by a couple of minutes. The problem in Moab, of course, is that being fashionably late has not caught on here. Moabites have a tendency...no, an obsession...with being ridiculously late. Or not showing up at all. And so we are all used to the fact that, if an event is planned, and none of the invited puts in an appearance, the hosts are rarely insulted. Since they did the same thing the week before.

     3) Street visitations. If this privilege of a small town is ever taken away, then I will be forced to accept it's the end of civilization as we know it.

     You're driving down the street (any street but Main, that is) and you see a friend of yours coming in the other direction. Maybe you need to tell him something that can't wait, or maybe you just haven't visited in a long time. So you stop in the middle of the street, driver window to driver window, and pause for a chat.

     A couple of weeks ago, Richard Cook flagged me down on Center Street, across from the ball park. We must have talked for 15 minutes and in that time, at least a dozen cars went around us. Not once did any one of them honk their horn. Not once did anybody even scowl. It's what we do here. Nobody complains because next week, it just might be them holding an impromptu meeting along the center line of Third South.

     4) Natalie Dickerson. Natalie is the best. Now it's true, Natalie does seem otherworldly at times, in a transcendental sort of way. But she is so flawlessly and genuinely cheerful (and genuinely unique), she even makes me feel better. Natalie works at the State Liquor Store and I've been drinking more lately, just on the chance that she will be there. Recently, I've been showing up during Natalie's lunch hour or something and have missed her golden presence. The booze made me happy anyway, but it wasn't the same. In any case, I believe Natalie Dickerson should be Moab's Ambassador of Good Will, along with...

     5) Nik Hougan. What else can I say about Nik? There he is, the battered sombrero, the sandy beard flowing in the breeze as he peddles up Main Street on a hammered old bicycle, his trusty dog alongside. Somewhere there is a touch of continuity between Old Moab and New, and it's called Nik Hougan.

     6) Running yellow/red lights on Main St. For years I complained about 18-wheeled trucks blowing yellow/red lights on Main Street. I wrote nasty editorials, harassed the police chief, and burned red in the face, every time I saw it happen again. Then I noticed that most of the tourists were doing the same thing. And finally I decided, what the hell, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. So now I love the thrill and excitement of racing through the changing lights as much as the next guy. I've had a close call, here and there, but mostly it's turned an otherwise calm and boring drive through downtown into a little adventure. And isn't that what we all need, really? Something unplanned? And you can be fairly sure that no cop will be around to cite you for the violation.

     Remember: Red light: STOP. Green light: GO. yellow light: GO VERY FAST.

     7) Post Office people don't seem real postal. Ok, so maybe Pat has given you that, 'You know, you may be the dumbest human being on the face of the earth' look, but ask yourself, didn't you really deserve it?

     I mean, really, what would you do if people asked questions like, "Have you posted tomorrow's mail yet?" and you had to answer, "No. We won't be doing that until tomorrow." And they asked you that kind of question, over and over again?

     That's why, by comparison, we locals look pretty good to the postal staff.

     8) Locals discount. Now this is a tough one. On the one hand, there is almost something delightfully evil about saying, "Uh...excuse me, but I'm a local...I get the discount," fully aware that the guy from Alameda, in the polyester jump suit next to me, is going to pay 10% more for the same meal. Shame on me.       In my defense, living in a tourist town can get awfully trying at times. We locals live in a town full of strangers from mid-March to November. So the locals discount reminds us that we are still remembered.

     On the other hand, if I were a tourist, I think I'd be steamed. Maybe we should consider a discreet locals discount.

     9) We don't live under a Blade Runner  night sky. Our night sky isn't orange; it's still black. Instead of having to travel 50 miles to see Hale Bopp, all we had to do was step out the back door. Not bad.

     10) It's still safe to walk the streets at night. Yes, I feel confident that I can walk any Moab sidewalk without the threat of harassment or intimidation by women. If I want to be harassed or intimidated by women, I just go down to Eklectica. The women down there are professionals. And I like it.

     I'm sure there are more reasons to sing the praises of this town. But frankly, writing all this positive stuff is starting to make me sick. If you have additions (or deletions) to my list, send them in.