Why I Long for the Days of the Old West                                    

 
I journeyed out west to find the sun, the warmth, and the adventure.
What I found was burning heat and so much figurative cold.
Las Vegas would have been better off left in pioneer days
as a travelers’ stop along the westward trail.

I long for the days of the old west. They seem to have been filled
with real and honest living. Not that all daily incidences were ruled by good,
but at least they were taken for what they were. You knew where you stood,
which side was which, and how to deal with either.
And nothing was conjured, artificial, or pretense. No iphones,
no cosplay, no ai. And if you didn’t possess common sense,
your road would be extra hard. These generations had to live
by their wits. Danger was plentiful and you had to know
how to deal with it. Trust was a serious deal and betraying it
was dealt with appropriately. Relationships were a gamble,
but if you were lucky, they could make a fruitful partnership.

It was a time and place when folks were obliged
to be connected to the land – their survival depended upon it.
Homes were built out of the wilderness, food came
from what you grew, even transportation was of the earth.
They made use of it, but they mostly respected it.

Jump a century or more forward and that western frontier
is all but a memory - Las Vegas, in particular. Even in
the seventies and eighties when I first started visiting,
development wasn’t that bad, still reminiscent of a detached outpost
in the middle of the desert. 21st century Vegas is a nightmare.
Over three million people and all this cursed development.
They thought they would quit building when they got
to the mountains – they didn’t. They said they would stop
when the resources ran out, but they didn’t. In olden days,
there were natural springs providing the little water
the small community needed. Now all things are dependent
on a reservoir called Lake Mead, which has drawn down
so far as to impose heavy water usage restrictions. Native
vegetation and wildlife species have been pushed out. Exotic
and pest species have moved in. Man-made lakes have
brought in mosquitoes. Aquatic vessels from across the country
have brought in quagga mussels. The homeless are on the streets
more than they ever have been. Meanwhile, city, county, state,
and federal lawmakers are bought off by special interests.

I spent years fighting for appreciation of the wild areas,
preserving carrying capacity, and educating the public.
But you can only hit your head against the wall so
many times. Retired and somewhat damaged
from the fight, I retreat into my own created desert
preserve on a small plot of land, where native
plants flourish and a few native bird, lizard,
and mammal species can find escape.
That’s what I’m looking for, too.