The Valley of Acquaintances

November 28th, 2006 at 12:57pm Kit O'Carra 51

While listening to Con Games Tuesday morning I was tempted to call Michael Conniff and add my two cents worth of useless personal information. The topic dealt with the frequency of transients passing through the valley and how it affects relationships. Not just for couples or romance, but how it also affects friendships. Why didn't I call in? Because sometimes the truth hurts too much to speak about it.

I have my own theory on this subject, since it has been a thorn in my side for over nine years now, and yet I have managed to somehow barely survive this potential epidemic. This is the Valley of Acquaintances. This is where you will see people on the street or in the restaurants, you know their faces or first names, you say hello to each other, exchange small pleasantries, and yet you can't say that you're friends.

There is a curse in this valley. One that guarantees if you find a good friend, within two years one of the two of you will leave the area. You will be minus one very crucial requirement for a comfortable life here. The older I get, the more I realize just how much something as simple as friendship is taken for granted. I also realize how much harder it is to find, especially for single women over forty.

The up side is that it is less expensive. You only have to buy one concert ticket, one dinner, one lift ticket, one movie ticket. The downside is that if you tire of flying solo all the time, your choices for locations to find human companionship without involving carnal knowledge are very limited. Bars are definitely out of the question. A mature woman seen sitting at the bar is instantly labeled as a "pathetic, desperate, middle-aged, menopausal reject," while all she's hoping for is to strike up a conversation, have that verbal human contact, exchange intelligences, or watch a football game, or have dinner. I know. Been there, done that. Maybe you saw me once or twice when I was determined not to let this curse get the best of me. But since I am the epitome of misfits among misfits in Woody Creek, I have been cursed. There were times when I feared it may even be terminal.

It has been extremely difficult for me to make true friends over the course of the past nine years. No -- let me rephrase that. It has been IMPOSSIBLE. Why? Because the older you are when you arrive here, if you came here alone, you will most likely remain alone. People over forty already have all the friends and family they need. They have been here for a couple of decades and have settled in.

This isn't a "transient" problem people are facing here. It is a problem of a tremendous lack of trust or personal interest in people. It is a problem of fear and suspicion. Establishing yourself, proving your value and worth as a worker, a friend, a compassionate human being, takes twice the effort as it would anywhere else in the U.S. This valley requires a support system, but there is no Solitaires Anonymous. Being accepted as a member of the community requires a rite of passage; an initiation that was never explained to me.

My plans of relocating to living a solitary life on a sailboat aren't unrealistic or even fearful for me. Hell, I've been living a solitary life here for years and have become a better, stronger woman as a result of doing most things alone. I'm anxious for the day I can set sail. The confidence and excitement of my youth has been restored.

When I look back over my time spent here this second time around (I didn't learn the lesson in 1975), I will always think of a scene in the movie Six Days, Seven Nights. Harrison Ford's character tells a woman vacationing on a tropical island, "People come here looking for romance. I've got news for you. It's an ISLAND, babe! If you didn't bring it with you, you won't find it here." That logic also applies to the Valley of Acquaintances. While it isn't always romance people are automatically assumed of searching for, common interests with common friendships have a vital role in everyone's well being. Maybe it's true that we're all just really "passing through." Whether we're here for a week or ten years, people need each other for support.

Parting words to the wise for my farewell blog: If you're heading to this valley to visit or to live,

"Friends. Don't leave home without them." Sometimes the curse does win.

Update - April 26, 2008: "A change will do you good!"

It's a sad fact that the past ten years of my life in the Valley of Acquaintances were the worst years of my life. Fortunately, that was then, and this is now. I am back in my element; my comfort zone of what has worked for me in the past. I have returned to the comaradarie of the strange breed that chooses law enforcement as their way of life.

This coming Wednesday evening is the first in the summer series of weekly sailing regattas. I have already been offered opportunities to be a deckhand on at least six boats. We will leave the marina in Newport, Oregon and sail out to sea for the races, coming back in at sunset. I'm anxious to get my sea legs back.

I am in the land of PT Cruisers and VW microbuses with surfboard racks. More important than the board itself is the wetsuit. You don't dare paddle out without one; even in the summer. I love that cold water doesn't stop us from catching great waves, and the best are the ones in the winter when we have tow-in surf competitions.

Look me up if you're ever out this way. We'll go sailing and whale watching. I'll even play the ukulele for you while you sip your glass of wine and watch the sun sink into the Pacific.

Entry Filed under: Aspen, Con Games, People, Woody Creek, Pitkin County, Women

13 Comments Add your own

1. Lost Sailor | November 29th, 2006 at 2:41 pm

Nice post Kitty O - reminds me of that seldom heard song by the Who - 'How Many Friends Have I Really Got' . Check it out sometime.

I always tell people new to the valley looking to settle to make relationships with long time locals.

I married a 'transient' - and there is an interesting and sometimes challenging dynamic there.
2. Mitch.Mulhall | November 29th, 2006 at 11:30 pm

I agree--great post. Your sincerity, Kit, is moving.

So much is made of America as a melting pot, a culture with shallow roots. If you want to cast aspersions on your American heritage, go to the Tower of London and gaze upon walls built c. 1200 a.d. Or, if that’s too much of an E-Ticket ride, there are plenty of places in this valley that reveal a people with deeper roots in this area than we can fully understand.

If only because this is where I grew up, I have always regarded this valley as my "home."

I had to leave to understand what “home” means…

Some here are not "transients"... Some among us define "home" in terms of memories--like packing snowballs off the A-Frames...

Cheers,
3. B Jon Traylor | November 30th, 2006 at 12:07 am

Very nice post. Thank you for being so blatantly honest, and well... blunt. There are too many connections with corresponding comments you made for me to include them here. Honestly? I think when you set sail, you'll hit land somewhere, perhaps an Island, and yes, I think you, doing what you really want to do, will meet someone... someone probably just like you, who also set sail.
You are very intriguing Kit. I told Conniff, off-air once how much I enjoyed your comments on the radio, and how I thought it would very be cool to meet you.
Perhaps, thats what is so cool about reading other's blogs... we get to know them as I feel they really are. Because as all of us writers know... our true selves, our thoughts, our hearts are depicted in our printed words.
I'm rambling, but just know, I really liked this posting from you. Thank you.
B. Jon Traylor -- also a blogger on this site
4. Lost Sailor | November 30th, 2006 at 7:40 am

hey - stop trying to hit on her - she's injured for chrissakes.
5. Kit O'Carra | November 30th, 2006 at 2:46 pm

Injured, yes. Dead, no.

Thank you for the comments, folks. It isn't "someone" that I seek. It is that network of people you know you can count on for friendship. While I will still remain a prisoner, for lack of a better description, in the Valley of Acquaintances for probably another year or two, I know that I will have more conversations with people I meet along the way in various locations once I am set free. I believe the transients are actually the lucky ones in all of this, for they are the ones who are welcomed in new places, are spoken to by strangers, share their knowledge and stories, and then move on to meet more people with stories to tell.

The longtime locals are the reluctant ones to accept anyone new. Ten years might seem like an appropriate length of time for initiation, but apparently in my case, it wasn't.

I'll be under the knife on Tuesday, spending the following weeks recovering 100 miles from here. That doesn't bum me out nearly as much as missing my one chance to get Freddy and the Fishstick tickets today while I had to wait in the doctor's office. I was 30 minutes late when I was able to get online, only to see the bold red SOLD OUT notice on the Belly Up site. I'll be settling for a new knee for my Christmas present this year and listening to the live broadcast of "Freddy's" concert on Radio Margaritaville on December 22nd.
6. Lost Sailor | November 30th, 2006 at 3:55 pm

There's still hope. Should be a real soirre - a Teddy Badly Tribute show of sorts...

My knee has been thrice knifed so I feel your pain - the reason you were late was probably because the doctor was logging on to the belly up website buying the ticket that shoulda been yours....
7. Mitch.Mulhall | November 30th, 2006 at 8:52 pm

[The longtime locals are the reluctant ones to accept anyone new.]

That's fair.

[Ten years might seem like an appropriate length of time for initiation, but apparently in my case, it wasn't.]

That's not.

There's no seniority here... no dues... no secret signs...

I too have developed profound attachments to people you could call "transients," but none of them changed what I call home. The idea someone could is absurd.

Cheers,
8. B Jon Traylor | November 30th, 2006 at 10:12 pm

Thanks, Sailor, that made me laugh!
As for Kit, well, my knees have been under the knife several times, plus a few arthroscopics. You'll be fine. Just rejoice in joining us knee injury folks as the local weather prediction experts. My knees tell me of every approaching major weather change! Yet, on mornings like this morning, the 10 below temps make it rather hard to get out of bed!
Its life! Embrace it! And guess what?... you can still ski... FAST!... downhill with no moguls to worry about! (I don't do moguls anymore for obvious reasons, but I still get a rush with speed!) You will be fine... -- Jon
9. Lost Sailor | December 1st, 2006 at 3:49 pm

Great, now someone pony up and score miss kitt a miracle ticket to the buffet show already. weren't you guys reading her post? it was clearly a parrotheads desperate cry for help.
10. racer122 | December 1st, 2006 at 3:53 pm

Kit, I've experienced the life of disconnect in this valley, and honestly, it wasn't until I found a church home that it changed (after like 10 years of living here, disconnected).

There IS community here. It's hard to find the real people in this valley, but they (we?) are here. This isn't an advertisement, but if you're interested, I attend Crossroads Church in Aspen. -- Billy Linn
11. Lost Sailor | December 3rd, 2006 at 10:51 am

I almost ran over that church sign on mainstreet & 7th the other day - a 'sign' from god perhaps?!
12. Kit O'Carra | December 3rd, 2006 at 11:36 am

As I said, "been there, done that." Snowmass Chapel. I too have seen the signs from God. I have opted not to have the knee surgery and to accept the hand that was dealt to me. God bless the Red Onion, the Cooper Street Pier and the life Aspen once knew.
13. Lost Sailor | December 4th, 2006 at 4:41 pm

Good choice - after that knee doctor screwed you out of the buffet ticket, I'd pass on the surgery as well.