Don't disparage one of Idaho's great small towns

The first year I moved here, there was an incident on Main Street involving two women in a fender bender. Instead of rushing out of their cars to blame each other, they both emerged to apologize profusely and peacefully. They each made sure that the other person was all right, and then gave each other sweet bear hugs. After that, they agreed that they should meet together soon, because it had been too long since they had seen each other.

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This remarkable event defined for me what the essence is of everything good about Ketchum; and perhaps for what is great about many small western towns: good people who care about each other, more than they do for their measly worldly possessions. Therefore, it grates at me, when I hear intermittent comments that disparage the town and townspeople of Ketchum (and the Wood River Valley). Some will say, "I have no desire to visit Ketchum, or any of the people up there." That's too bad, because if you take a closer look, this pedestrian-friendly town offers much for young and old, rich and poor, sick and well.

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Like most Idaho towns, Ketchum has changed over the years. Yet, it retains many high-quality aspects of a hardy Western town. When it comes to weather, Ketchum is in the top 10 percentile of sunniest towns. The people here are equally sunny, and there is ample reason for this. A river runs through it, offering opportunities for enjoyable fishing and water sports. We have a popular YMCA. On summer Tuesdays, a vibrant farmers' market attracts vendors and customers from throughout southern Idaho. After that, energetic music performers play freely til twilight in our Forest Service Park.

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For the spiritual, Ketchum has more than a handful of sacred places to worship. When someone becomes severely ill, or is in a crash, our community often bonds together, helping with fundraisers.

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Wagon Days brings a festive weekend of olden-times coming alive, as craftspeople, blacksmiths and storytellers demonstrate their trades and speak their lore. Wagon Days also features the largest non-motorized parade in the west.

Ketchum's Community Library has an extensive regional history section, with helpful staff and an oral history program. The library also hosts frequent lectures and enlightening events, featuring respected authors and adventurers from near and far.

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Ketchum has dozens of fine restaurants. We have movie theaters; nine (and growing) outdoor parks, live stage and Huck Finn-like swimming holes. Free newspapers, magazines, maps and wi-fi are abundant. We also have a water park, bringing boundless glee to splashing kids. On the edge of town, Sun Valley Co. has installed a gondola for uplifting BaldMountain rides.

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This list of what good things our fine town (and valley) has to offer is much longer than this, but I hope for now this gives some hesitation to those who are quick to sneer at lively Ketchum.

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I sometimes wonder if some of Ketchum's harsh critics have even spent much time here.

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After July’s candlelight vigil march for Bowe Bergdahl, the local soldier captured inAfghanistan; I sat with some friends, one of whom described an image she thought best captured Hailey's essence. One of the men attending the ceremony had left his tools in the open on the back of his truck, parked in front of Zaney's Coffeehouse, where the event began. The tradesman had drawn a large cardboard sign, asking passersby to leave his tools alone, because he was standing for Bowe. And the aura of respectfulness that evening permeated the atmosphere so thick that nobody dared tamper with his tools. Then we agreed that we all look forward to the day when Bowe can return to this pleasant valley, where his friends and family can openly share with him, some strong bear hugs.

Technological tools of peace

I finally joined up with facebook. Funny thing too, the opportunity opened, right after listening to Horace Axtell, a Nez Perce elder speaking and performing prayer-songs at the Community Library. After returning home that evening, I noticed that some of my former coworkers invited me to submit story ideas for their new facebook forum. To submit ideas I was required to sign up for facebook.

This was remarkably parallel to when I signed up as a blogger two years ago, after going to the library to see Native American poet Louise Erdrich and Joy Harjo speak and then discovering that the settings on Joy’s blog was such that you had to sign up, to contribute comments. I signed up and here is the first comment I ever made on a blog.

Both events reminded me of a resonating piece of advice coming though the South American shaman three years ago when he suggested that I, "Listen to the indigenous" I find it interesting that by doing so, it's been leading me to better technological tools for crafting constructive words of peace.

Blessed Old Man River

Reading about the Miracle on the Hudson, it struck me that if the incident had gone another way, then naysayers would have likely interpreted this as a bad augury against Obama, with the potent synchronicity of a plane crash in New York at the beginning of his administration.

When I saw the photo of people miraculously balancing on wings atop water, this struck me as a very good omen; especially since peacenik warrior Pete Seeger has contributed folksongs about this mighty river, has led constructive environment efforts to restore the Hudson’s purity and while approaching age ninety, still thrives along its shores to this day.

More Unknown News:

# Air Force Wounded Warrior

Your recent newslink to the Wired story about Air Force blogging protocols explains why there are no photos of wounded warriors posted here!

... I discovered this while searching for pertinent links, to include for this post:

Future Friedman: A place for healing war wounds?

Excerpt: After all, what should be more important than proper treatment for our wounded warriors who have patriotically served, even if some of these battles were fought for misguided reasons?

http://www.unknownnews.net/#13JB1128

Dissimilar teacups for lifesaver Veterans http://www.magicvalley.com/articles/2007/11/10/opinion/letters/124392_32.txt

Several weeks after piloting the atomic bomb, which unleashed its devastation upon Hiroshima, Japan, U.S. Commander Paul ‘Warfield’ Tibbets walked through and examined the swelled streets of Nagasaki where his comrades-in-arms had dropped the second bomb.

There ‘to sate his academic curiosity’, Commander Tibbets nonchalantly purchased some souvenir rice bowls and wooden cup saucers, later remarking, “Damndest thing you ever saw.”

Throughout his life, which ended only a few weeks ago, Commander Tibbets always maintained that surgically dropping these vaporizing bombs was a seminally patriotic mission, which saved both sides millions of lives, from what would otherwise have been a long enduring horrendous battle.

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Around the same time as Commander Tibbet’s postwar walk, Navy skipper and Axis sub-chaser, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, who went on to become San Francisco’s City Lights Bookstore founder, peacenik warrior and beat poet extraordinaire, hiked among the same Nagasaki ruins. There he observed -as San Francisco Chronicle writer Paul McHugh reported last Veterans Day: "I saw a giant field of scorched mulch. It sprawled out to the horizon; 3 square miles looking like someone had worked it over with a huge blowtorch. A few sticks from buildings jutted up like black arms," Ferlinghetti says. "I found a teacup that seemed like it had human flesh fused into it, just melted into the porcelain.

"In that instant," said the former submarine chaser Ferlinghetti, "I became a total pacifist."