February 7, 2007
You’re From Junction When….

Almost as much a part of the daily e-mail as being “pre-approved” or having a scam artist supposedly living in deepest Africa wanting to make you a millionaire, the “You know you’re from (fill in the blank)”  is on the computer almost every time “You’ve got mail”.

Be the state Nebraska, North Dakota or New Jersey it seems common in that citizens design Halloween costumes to fit over a snowsuit, driving is better in the winter because snow fills the potholes and the seasons of the year are winter and road construction.  While each locale features minute differences, Minnesotans know how to pronounce Wayzata and Coloradoans drive a three hundred dollar car with a two thousand dollar bike on the roof, most reflections, no matter the state, contain a certain sameness. 

But last week niece Michelle, a GJHS graduate, e-mailed a  “You Know You’re From Grand Junction

When”.  Michelle, a Hartt School of Music grad, lives now in Minneapolis after her four-year stint in Hartford.  But she, and her spread around the country yet connected by the ‘net Tiger High 2001 classmates, still have strong memories of growing up in the Grand Valley.  But what these first graduates of the 22^nd century find in their Mesa County memory bank is a bit different than those of us recalling the Lincoln Park Lion (i.e. we who have lived here for decades) To wit: 

You Know You’re From Grand Junction when: 

The term “Devil’s Kitchen” doesn’t bother you. 

People riding horses around neighboring towns seems perfectly normal. 

Your favorite sports team of all time is a Parks & Rec softball team.  

You miss the cow on 12^th Street. 

You learned to ski at an area with three lifts, if you count the bunny hill. 

No one knows what a yellow light means, much less a yellow arrow. 

You wonder where Jamba Juice went.  And what Jamba means?

It doesn’t seem at all strange to live in a home on a street whose name is just a letter and a fraction. 

A trip back to Junction must include a Dos Hombres meal plus a “Full Moon” party. 

You worked at Star Tek and the disappointment upon discovering the job had nothing to do with astronomy technology. 

You remember the house that fell into the river. 

There’s only one mall and it’s just one story and you can stand in the middle and see each end. 

You miss cutting down the family Christmas tree in an honest to goodness forest. 

Although our town has an airport the family always drove to Denver or Salt Lake to catch a flight. 

One of your favorite memories is the day Krispy Kreme opened. 

And you wonder what became of Speedo Man? 

A summer evening wasn’t complete unless time was spent hanging out at Canyon View Park. 

Stay out late on Saturday night?  The evening usually ended drinking a soda and staring at weirdoes in a pancake house. 

Mulling the past isn’t just for those of us recalling Roscoe the Rooster and “When you can’t see your tread, see Gay Johnson’s.”  There’s a whole new generation out there and they have their own very special Grand Valley memories.