Just because you're not paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get you.

There’s a good number of gun-toting, gov’ment fearing, independent minded folks that live in these thar hills. Their houses are tucked away out of sight and they don’t have mailboxes, street addresses or an easy way to track them down. Folks value their privacy and aren’t afraid to protect it, perhaps by any means necessary.

Ironically, birds of this feather flock together. And you better believe it when I say this place has got somewhat of a bit of a reputation. But, the ethos is one of ‘live and let live’. Or, at least, ‘leave us the heck alone’. It shouldn’t be any of our business how they choose to live their lives. There’s enough deer and elk to go around.

The attraction is a heady mix of solitude and privacy. Many of us get anxiety attacks in crowds and we’re either stubborn enough or rude enough to be picky about whom we rub shoulders with. And, just one look at the denizens of the big burg is enough to know that that isn’t them. Invite folks in for a cold one, or three, but make sure the truck is parked pointed downhill. Peace and quiet must rein each night at the ranch, or there’ll be hell to pay.

The road into town is long, indeed, and the winters are even longer. An independent toughness, a fortitude of heart, mind, and bottle is required. Folks learn to struggle in silence, to find inner resources, or else they move away. Toss in a certain reserve, a touch of Godliness and it is no surprise to find the local ethnic mix is predominantly Scots-Irish, Scandahoovian, and assorted religious refugees (Mennonite, Amish and Latter Day Saint). Their forebears were poor, persecuted, and persistent in their beliefs. Shall it be the down-trodden that inherit paradise?

These sort of circumstances lead to equal doses of frugality, humility, and introspection. Life is more than mere brutishness, but the pleasures are still simple and corporeal. Hunting, cheap beer, and big trucks. Or better yet, all three. Full bore, one might say: “open her up and let ‘er rip!” We’re gonna have a good time and we’re not gonna wait for some pantywaist from Hollywood to entertain us. We’ll make our own fun, thank you very much.

I’m somewhat convinced that this will always place such self-willed sorts on the outskirts of society. Exiled to the fringes, isolated from poisoning the mainstream, it just wouldn’t do for these ideas to get around too much. Everyone would expect such freedom and independence. Our collective would never, thus, learn to get along.

Perhaps, then, in our increasingly crowded and complicated world, it is counterproductive to value peace ‘n’ quiet and natural beauty. Even though the wilderness may well have been the forge of the American character, as Teddy Roosevelt was all too convinced, today’s competitiveness requires more complicity, more passivity, and perhaps more gullibility. But, I don’t think so. There’s a realness out here. A fresh perspective on what might be essential and true.

And, this year I think I’m gonna learn me to shoot a rifle. So, y’all be warned, now!