A relative newcomer to Durango, I’m learning my way around, making little trips around town and getting a feel for everyday life.
Take the other day, for instance. My first stop was nearby, a business managed by a youthful 30-something woman. That day she was wearing loose-fitting pale green knit pants and a matching shirt. Strikingly unpretentious and genuine, she keeps business moving. I’ve observed her with customers. She’s a natural.
I asked her once what she’d done over the weekend and she said offhandedly, “Went trout fishing.” “Trout fishing?” I murmured, surprised. “Gosh! None of that in my home state of Ohio.”
Although I pictured her standing sure-footed in a stream of clear, rushing water, I soon learned that “trout fishing” in her life meant finding a place on shore and angling from there for bass or trout. So much for the romantic notions I got from author Ernest Hemingway, who wrote captivating prose about fishing for trout in far-flung streams in Europe. Much better her way: comfortable clothes, with a pal or two, at a particular sweet spot on the bank of the Animas River.
My next stop was further up Main Avenue, to shop. I recognized the teenage clerk who waited on me. She wore her dark blond hair pulled back, a 21st century version of a Grace Kelly look, which was perfect with her ivory complexion. She took her job seriously. I could tell. That all fits with her demeanor. No small talk.
As she finished the order, I asked her, “Are you going to school?” and she brightened and gave me a small smile. “Yes, college. I love my online classes. I work on them at my speed.” “Well, good, good for you,” I said, and unable to resist giving advice, told her, “You’ll get a lot from on-campus classes, too. In-person skills are important.” “Yes,” she said, politely. As I left, I turned and quickly asked, “What’s your major?” “Business,” she said. I gave her a thumbs-up and thought to myself: perfect major for her! Yes, she may face obstacles, but surely she is made for success.
Before heading home, I had the car looked at. It wasn’t dangerous but a warning light had to be attended to, so I pulled into a place with mechanics and jockeyed around to find a spot to park. It was busy. Lots of men of all ages were, it seemed to me, running around doing things, and loud car-type noises were ricocheting all over the place. Immediately, a middle-aged man, clean-shaven but with a hint of a five o’clock shadow and his raven-black hair cut short, hustled by me, booming in a friendly voice, “Right with you! Give me 10 minutes.”
It took him 10 minutes tops to return and 10 to make the fix. “Look,” he told me, “ I want to make sure you’re OK with the adjustment I made. I coulda made it lower, but I followed manufacturer’s recommendations.” He started to explain every step he took, but I stopped him. “It’s OK. You’re the professional and you did the right thing. So how much do I owe you?” He laughed, opening my car door for me, “Nothing.” I looked at him quizzically. “It’s what we do,” he said with a smile. He turned on a dime, heading to the garage to the many cars in various stages, it seemed to me, of repair.
Back home in my senior apartment, thoughts arose about the individuals who’d waited on me that day, those three good-looking, hardworking people. I realized they are exemplars of the thousands who work in Durango. No matter their profession, they all work with intelligence, skill and a sense of who they are.
In biblical language, you might call them “the salt of the earth.” I do.
For 20 years, Jo Gibson worked as an adjunct faculty member in the English Department at Cleveland State University teaching composition and writing. As a freelance writer with the Cleveland Plain Dealer, the major newspaper serving Cleveland, and a major national newspaper, she wrote book reviews and articles. She holds degrees from Kent State University and Cleveland State University, and loves her new home in Durango.
