It would be easy to read this issue of the Idaho Mountain Express and want to pull the covers over your head and never get out of bed again. The valley's growth-related problems could seem overwhelming.
It would be easy to join in the regular refrain of the Wood River Valley Whine, which usually starts out with the words, "The place is trashed," and ends with "I'm thinking about moving."
It would be easy to pack up the old Conestoga and flee from the problems that have stacked up in the valley—too many cars, a screeching airport, parking places scarce as hen's teeth.
It would be easy to find excuses to put the closed sign on the front door and look at the Wood River Valley in the rearview mirror, especially after counting the change leftover after the rent is paid and the cupboard is still bare.
It would be easy to say enough already and set out to settle in a place where socks and underwear aren't lost in stacks of thousand-dollar cashmere sweaters.
It would be easy to tally up what net worth has been accumulated in the years a person has lived here, sell out, and move someplace "better."
But where is "better?"
That's a question that's been asked by generations of people without wealth managers who have tried to figure out how to survive in the valley.
Is a better place one with acres of malls and acres of parking instead of millions of acres of mountains and miles of streams? Is it a place where winter gloom settles in and smoggy inversions are the rule instead of the sunny bluebird days that are Sun Valley's winter trademark?
Would the money to be gained in the classic corporate or academic rat race be worth giving up our lives in relatively relaxed work places, where lunch times may be spent by the river or on a canyon trail?
Would we trade our blue-jeans-and-fleece dress code for a closet full of expensive Wall Street styles?
Would we exchange our time on bicycles and skis sweating our way up a rocky trail for time on a treadmill in a sweaty gym? Or our intimate arts venues for the concert halls and galleries of the world?
Would we trade our frequent encounters with an array of wild birds, mammals and fish for going to the zoo?
Would these things really be better?
If your answer to these questions is "Yes," then pack up, baby, you're outta here. California, here you come.
But what about McCall, Sandpoint, Salmon, Mackay, Stanley, Driggs, Bend, Durango, or Red Lodge? Or some other enchanting small town in Mexico, Costa Rica or South America?
Wouldn't it be easier to live in these places than to put up with all the change and the hassles in the valley?
The answer is a definite "maybe."
But people are like camels. Instead of nourishing humps of water, we carry our problems with us from place to place.
Compounding our problem is the fact that wide-open spaces are rapidly disappearing everywhere in the American West. Urban and suburban development is encroaching at an alarming pace, as the nation's population increases.
What to do? Fleeing the valley isn't the answer.
We should take a lesson from the refugees who fled Colorado mountain towns and moved here in search of the Holy Grail—a place without the problems of the places they left. They ran into themselves and the problems they left behind at every corner. They will tell you, "The problem is us—everyone of us."
The valley is still one of the best places on the planet. It's strength lies in its people, who came here to try living life in unconventional ways. It is full of people who came looking for a life whose value is not necessarily measured by the size of one's bank account or home.
Residents came together in large numbers in recent weeks to compare their values, hopes and dreams for the valley. They found that they share the desire to protect the valley's outdoor resources—rivers, streams, forests, sage hillsides, fish and wildlife—from the damage that growth can inflict.
They found that they share a desire for strong local laws to force growth to occur inside cities in order to protect more pristine areas outside.
They found that they agreed that the valley should refuse to allow the unfettered sprawl they've seen in other places to destroy everything they love about living here.
They found that none of them have given up on the idea that the people of the valley can shape the future—if their leaders will help them.
They are of a mind that sticking and staying—making a stand in defense of their valley, their kids, and their neighbors--will pay precious dividends in peace of mind and lives well-lived.
It's this optimism and loyalty that will see the valley through and will keep it a special place to live for generations to come.
