Aspen No 72
From the Aspen II collection
(Intro from Aspen I)
I had a friend in Aspen who sent her son to Denver so he’d learn that everybody in the world was not tanned, thin, wealthy, and white.
He was mugged in Denver.
You've heard all my raves from all the places I’ve been to. This is different. It’s hard to put my finger on it, but the following might explain it.
LA, my wife, didn’t like it there much, either. So I called the school in Aspen, it was called the Anderson Ranch (they were the bright spot and the people were great):
“Listen, I’m not coming back (to teach) this year.”
“Well, to tell the truth my wife doesn’t like it there.”
There was a silence for about ten seconds and then uproarious, uncontrolled laughter for a minute.
I did one of those stupid things people do: I’m looking at the phone for an explanation.
Finally the guy gets back on the phone, and still laughing, manages to say, “I’m married too and I’m living here alone because my wife hates it here, too.”
The workshops were great. There was a dance school, a barbecue dinner, a rodeo, a rugby league, and a red fence—enough to keep me and my students occupied and happily shooting.