I'm confused. I can't tell. In the great master plan of the city fathers and mothers, is Ketchum meant to be a parking lot, or is it a construction site?
I'm so sick of following backhoes and front-end loaders and dump trucks I could scream. And, as for pedestrians, they haven't got a chance.
The city planners and politicians are obviously being bankrolled by builders and Realtors. The nine banks and two lumberyards in a town of 3,800 people are merely symptoms of the epidemic. That every single bank is located on the two most traveled roads in town, Main Street and Sun Valley Road sends a clear message, as does the size of the brick fortresses that house them. What would you think if you were a tourist passing through?
Here's an idea for the chamber of commerce: How about a "Fleecing of the Sheep Festival?" And why not promote tours of the ghost town?
Here's the catch: Instead of seeing abandoned shacks and buildings from the mining era, they'll see the new improved gargantuan houses and uninhabited spaces, equally empty, but built with energy efficient and environmentally friendly materials by the oh-so-conscientious—and oh-so-greedy—builders of the valley. The sterile structures are surrounded by vast, architecturally landscaped lawns interrupted with geometrically appropriate rocks and fake water features, along with trees and shrubs perfectly placed. And they're all surrounded by beautiful rolling berms like white elephants. Oh, but our hillside ordinances are intact. Yea, well, don't worry. First they fill up all the available flat land. Then they move on to the hills. It ain't rocket surgery; it's politics.
Meanwhile, irony of ironies, there's an affordable housing shortage, no place for working people to live, hence, mucho traffic. Local headlines are constantly filled with facts like tax income from retail sales is way down, about how rising land prices are pressuring farmers and ranchers to sell the open space, about how elk, wolves, salmon and other wildlife in our ecosystem are suffering or going extinct.
Of course, there are silver linings. How about a big round of applause for the affluent residents who make the wonderful Sun Valley Symphony possible every summer. It's a soundtrack akin to the orchestra playing while the Titanic sank, or Nero fiddling while Rome burned. Sure, the "tri-cities up north" as I like to refer to Ketchum, Sun Valley, and Elkhorn, are ghost towns only haunted two or three weeks a year, but who cares? As long as builders and Realtors are making money—and I can hit a golf ball off the top of Sun Peak—I'm happy.
I'm sure some genius—probably a Realtor—will come up with the usual provincial idea, you know, if you don't like it here why don't you leave? Well, gosh, for one thing, I'm an Idaho native. Where are you from?
Also, I do leave as often as possible, only to come back to more construction and fewer interesting residents. And, for the other myopics who spew the cliché about not wanting to become another Aspen, believe me, there's absolutely no danger of that. It's too late. You couldn't do it if you tried. Not even if you saved Louie's. If you don't believe me, take a look at the perfect new symbol of Ketchum's soul across from Atkinsons' that appeared this summer: a pre-formed outhouse and postage stamp lawn in the new pseudo park. I think you can pick a park like that up at Costco.
Ketchum: the town that Faust built. Where OSHA beeps replaced the sound of woodpeckers long ago, and the cranes don't fly. Enjoy. Just try not to get run over by a construction vehicle or an empty KART bus.
David Frank
Ketchum
