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Some Bunkhouse Advice for the Perplexed

By Peter Anderson

Dear Nun-2-Slim,

I am 5th generation here and I don’t know my neighbors anymore. Seems there’s more strangers hereabouts than family, friends, or acquaintances. We can’t hardly find enough Ladies of the Frontier anymore to bake pies for our fundraiser. I been here 85 years and sometimes I don’t know where I am.

Oreana, Salida

Dear Oreana,

If I owned Hell and Texas, I’d rent out Texas and live in Hell. Let’s face it, some places live better than others. Now it seems people have decided our grass is a little greener. Long as there’s pasture to be had, this new herd is gonna keep on comin’. Nothin’ we can do ‘bout that. But you might find someone down to the Senior Center who you can chat up about the old days. While you’re at it, make a pot of coffee for your new neighbors, and you may just find a gal who can bake you a decent pie. Seems like that would melt your butter.


Dear Nun-2-Slim,

We’re coming up on Election Day and everyone’s got a little sand in their gizzards over one thing or another.

I used to like to see all the signs and flags; election day reminded me how good we’ve got it in a country that votes. But now it just seems like a bunch a dogs out barking to hear their heads rattle.

Colton, Gunnison

Dear Colton,

You’re right, there’s plenty of folk airin’ their lungs and blowin’ around on their own wind. Some of ‘em talk cause they got somethin’ to say, but most of ‘em talk cause they just gotta say something. No matter where you’re settin’ around this wet wood campfire, it’s hard not to get a little smoke in your eyes. There ain’t much point in barkin’ back at a dog that’s bellerin’ like a bull calf in a briar patch. This year I plan on mailin’ in my ballot and savin’ most of my breath for breathin’.


Dear Nun-2-Slim,

We used to raise mostly cattle and alfalfa ’round here. Nowadays, everyone’s building hoop houses and growing that skunky loco weed. Some of these green wave farmers walk around town like their roofs aren’t nailed on quite right, if you know what I mean. I got a friend who says he’s been taking the stuff cause it helps him sleep at night, but he’s always been a little cross-threaded betwixt the ears. I believe I’ll stick with warm milk and whisky.

Squarepants, Moffat

Dear Squarepants,

Nothin’ wrong with warm milk and whiskey, long as you ain’t pourin’ one into the the other. One thing I’ll say about them weed growers is they sure eat like a bunch of field hands. Last week, I saw a fella down to the café disappear a Coconut Cream Pie all by his self.


Peter Anderson recently retired from teaching in order to become a full-time word wrangler. He lives in Crestone.