Extreme heat at a Colorado airshow caused about 100 people to seek emergency treatment and sent 10 people to area hospitals on Saturday, officials said.

The majority of patients were treated by emergency personnel onsite at the Pikes Peak Regional Airshow, the Colorado Springs Fire Department said in a statement posted on social media.

Colorado Springs Fire Chief Randy Royal said the “quick actions” of organizers and emergency officials prevented serious injuries at the event held at the Colorado Springs Municipal Airport.

The airshow’s website indicated tickets were sold out for both days of the event on Saturday and Sunday, featuring performances by the famed U.S. Navy Blue Angels flight exhibition team and displays of various types of modern and vintage aircraft.

A post on the Pikes Peak Regional Airshow Instagram account advised attendees, “PLEASE remember to stay hydrated during this hot weather. There is a FREE water station at the center of the grounds near the medical station.”

The National Weather Service in Pueblo had issued a heat advisory warning of anticipated temperatures between 93 and 100 degrees Fahrenheit for the area on Saturday afternoon.

The advisory remained in effect for El Paso County and Pueblo County for Sunday between noon and 7 p.m., the weather service said.

The fire department warned attendees of the airshow’s second day to prepare with water bottles, hats, sunscreen and umbrellas.

“Tomorrow will be hot again and we ask everyone to please stay hydrated, be prepared for hot temperatures, and please stay safe,” Royal said.

Nearly three weeks after the Alexander Mountain fire started west of Loveland, U.S. Forest Service officials have declared the wildfire to be 100% contained.

The fire, which started July 29 and is being investigated as human-caused, was completely contained Saturday, the Forest Service said on social media. 

At the peak, 625 personnel were on scene fighting the fire, which destroyed 51 structures and burned 9,668 acres in Larimer County north of the Big Thompson Canyon. The U.S. Forest Service has been in command of the fire scene after the Southwest Incident Management Team 1 returned control Aug. 9 when the fire was at 91% containment.

The fire destroyed 26 homes and damaged at least four others, according to a report by the Larimer County Assessor’s Office. Twenty-one outbuildings were also destroyed.

Firefighters will continue to monitor the burn area, which is mostly on U.S. Forest Service land, as the Burned Area Emergency Response team continues to search for areas at risk of mudslides or flash flooding in the future.

“The Forest (Service) wants to recognize both the hard work as well as the stress and difficulty of the past three weeks,” acting Arapaho and Roosevelt National Forests & Pawnee National Grassland Supervisor Jason Sieg said in a social post Saturday night. “There are members of the Cedar Park community who lost property and homes, and we will support them as best we can alongside our community partners and local agencies. We also want to thank the numerous agencies, partners, fire personnel and community members who stepped up to help in our joint coordination with Larimer County and Colorado Division of Fire Prevention and Control. This was a team effort.”

U.S. Forest Service wildland investigators are working with the Larimer County Sheriff’s Office to chase clues on who may have started the fire, even if it wasn’t intentional. They think the fire started between 10:30 a.m. and 11:15 a.m. July 29. Anyone with information about the start of the fire can call the Forest Service’s tip line at 303-275-5266. 

Alexander Mountain is one of three Front Range wildfires being investigated as human-caused and ignited in the last week of July. 

Arson investigators are still looking into the cause of the Quarry fire, which grew to nearly 580 acres in a highly-populated area of Jefferson County before firefighters got the perimeter fully under control Aug. 7. Federal investigators are also looking into the Stone Canyon fire that destroyed five structures and is linked to one death in Boulder County. It was fully contained Aug. 4 after burning 1,557 acres.

Happy Colorado Sunday, all.

I hope your week was lovely. I can’t tell you how happy I was to be able to report measurable rainfall to the Colorado Collaborative Rain, Hail and Snow Network three days in a row. If I didn’t have a full-time job, you can bet that the big storms delivering needed doses of cooling rain every afternoon would have sent me scrambling for a novel and a chair on the covered front porch.

There is something soothing about a break with a book. These days there are stacks of to-be-read books staring at me from most flat surfaces in my house, so I don’t have the same use for the library that I did when I was a kid. But I learned reading this week’s cover story by Kevin Simpson that if I did peek inside the branch less than a mile from home, I would find a place transformed to meet the needs of my community no matter what direction they’re coming from.

Dana Coffield

Senior Editor

The Cover Story

Libraries have adapted to the moment, but their bedrock purpose hasn’t changed

Seems like everyone has some vivid memory of their public library, right? For me, it’s flashbacks to grade school days when the bookmobile would visit and I’d score an armload of fresh literary adventures. Or the woody scent of the main library’s massive card catalog as I scoured the Dewey Decimal System to source a high school paper. A lot has changed since then, and a pandemic demanded a whole raft of new strategies, but libraries have always operated on the premise of welcoming all and filling public needs.

And we found that’s definitely still the case — with some interesting twists — as we checked in on this amazing institution in Colorado to see how it has evolved to meet a very challenging moment. We paid particular attention to rural libraries, whose services have expanded even into connecting patrons with health care, but also looked at overarching issues like censorship and the difficult task of patching our social safety net. And just a heads up: We’ll be talking further about libraries’ evolving role with a panel of experts next month at SunFest. Sign up and bring your library cards!

READ THIS WEEK’S COLORADO SUNDAY FEATURE

Kevin Simpson | Writer

The Colorado Lens

Things move quickly in Colorado and people wear many hats to get things done. Here are a few of our favorite images this week of people going places and making change happen in their communities.

Hugh Carey | Photographer

Flavor of the Week

To-may-to, to-mah-to. Any way you juice them, they make a great cocktail.

Summer is not my favorite season — winter is, by a country mile, followed by the other seasons that at least have some snow and no 100-degree days.

However, as an avid gardener and a big fan of the fresh offerings at at our local farmers market, it’s easy to acknowledge how good a tender, juicy, heirloom tomato is with a sprinkle of salt and pepper, and maybe a drizzle of really good olive oil, in the middle of summer. And as a distiller, I’m a big fan of tomato-driven cocktails, whether a Bloody Mary, Bloody Maria, Bloody Caesar, Red Snapper, really anything punched up by tomato and a bit of spice.

I’d heard of a freshly juiced Bloody Mary at Mount Princeton Hot Springs Resort near Buena Vista more than 10 years ago, when some friends were married there, but didn’t have the opportunity to try it. The concept stuck with me, though. Friends described it as a totally different cocktail experience. Years later, I stopped in and interrogated some confused employees at the hot springs. They had apparently discontinued it during the COVID-19 pandemic.

So when it returned this summer, I knew it was time to strike. Tom Warren at Mount Princeton and Susan Hirt, whose Bloody Mary at Mother Muff’s in Colorado Springs was inspired by a visit to the hot springs almost 20 years ago, were very generous in talking through their processes and ingredients, and offering tips for home mixologists. There are countless possible permutations, so don’t be afraid to experiment. If it’s fresh, delicious and refreshing, if it leavens a hot summer day and puts a smile on your face, then you’ve succeeded.

READ ON FOR TIPS, TECHNIQUES AND A BASIC FRESH TOMATO JUICE RECIPE

Gabe Toth | Author

SunLit: Sneak Peek

In “Burn,” a surreal landscape greets two men with the remains of seemingly indiscriminate violence

EXCERPT: Two men emerge from a hunting trip in the Maine wilderness to find a staggering swath of death and destruction. Bestselling author Peter Heller taps into today’s disturbing political dysfunction as these lifelong best friends, Jess and Storey, navigate their way toward an understanding of what’s happened to society. Secession?

READ THE SUNLIT EXCERPT

THE SUNLIT INTERVIEW: Heller offers a glimpse inside the writing process that has made him a bestselling author, but also into his thoughts on the divisive politics of our time and the dangers that presents. Here’s a brief segment from his Q&A, but you do not want to miss Heller’s podcast conversation with our Tracy Ross:

SunLit: How does the relationship between your characters Jess and Storey, who emerge from their trip to find a starkly divided America, fit into the broader societal and political rift?

Heller: Well, there is this sense that whatever happens in this conflict — which may or may not be rippling out into the broader nation — their friendship is solid, irrevocable. I can only hope that their bond stands for the state of our Union. That whatever the perceived betrayals or wrongs … we can get past them.

READ THE INTERVIEW WITH PETER HELLER

LISTEN TO OUR PODCAST WITH THE AUTHOR

Kevin Simpson | Writer

Sunday Reading List

A curated list of what you may have missed from The Colorado Sun this week.

🌞 The big news of the week was that a Mesa County jury returned a guilty verdict on most of the charges former Clerk and Recorder Tina Peters faced. Nancy Lofholm reported from the trial and served up the jury findings with a lot of important context. Related: Can people convicted of felonies vote in Colorado? It’s complicated.

🌞 More than half of Colorado school districts now have kids in the classroom just four days a week, a move superintendents attribute to budget problems. Erica Breunlin reports there are costs to the switch that are showing up in students’ academic performance.

🌞 In political news, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, the presumptive Democratic nominee for vice president, was in Denver last week and raised $3 million for his run with Vice President Kamala Harris for the White House. Our own governor called a special legislative session to hammer out a deal that, among other things, is intended to keep two tax measures off the November ballot. The state GOP sent out a transphobic email ostensibly intended to support a well-loved Republican senator in a toss-up race in southern Colorado. He was mortified by the messaging.

🌞 A lot of money has flowed toward regional trail building projects, but not so many trails have been completed. Jason Blevins uses fragments of a trail from Carbondale to Crested Butte to explain the hold up.

🌞 An oil and gas operator with about 60 wells in Larimer County lost its right to do business in Colorado and must clean up two wells and processing sites north of Fort Collins within 90 days. Mark Jaffe explains why people living near those sites are OK that the deal with state regulators let Prospect Energy duck $1.7 million in penalties.

🌞 Colorado food banks have spent just about all the $10 million in pandemic-era aid allocated for the purchase of fresh food from small farms, Parker Yamasaki reports. So what happens after the money runs out?

🌞 Colorado’s surge of new business formations dropped like a stone in the year after the state reinstated full-freight filing fees. Economists told Tamara Chuang it just signals a return to normal. Speaking of which, metro Denver’s inflation rate fell — a lot faster than the nation as a whole — to 1.9%.

🌞 Good news! All that work to save the tiny endangered boreal toad seems to be paying off in Colorado. Jennifer Brown, who went on a recovery mission with biologists in 2019, reports the high-elevation amphibians seem to be breeding — a lot — near Pitkin.

Dana Coffield | Senior Editor

Thanks for dropping by this morning, friends. If you’ve forgotten since the last time we said it, we appreciate all you do for us, whether it is sharing links to our stories, putting in a good word about The Sun, or subscribing to this newsletter.

— Dana & the whole staff of The Sun

The Colorado Sun is part of The Trust Project. Read our policies.

Corrections & Clarifications

Notice something wrong? The Colorado Sun has an ethical responsibility to fix all factual errors. Request a correction by emailing corrections@coloradosun.com.

Story first appeared in:

HUGO — While kids meander among the stacks at the Hugo Public Library, 5-year-old Letty Nuffer sits cross-legged at a table concentrating on her language skills using a borrowed laptop computer that displays a fun video to show her how to pronounce consonant blends.

Thanks to a pilot project in telehealth, Letty can access therapy for her speech delay without a four-hour round trip to Denver for an in-person appointment. By checking out an equipment kit designed to facilitate a wide range of health care consultations, Letty’s mom, Kali Nuffer, can connect directly with her therapist as well as to specially designed video lessons.

The library, already an almost daily destination for Nuffer’s family, now has become the conduit for virtual doctor’s appointments for all four of her kids — just one more service that the facility offers beyond the traditional resources for residents on the Eastern Plains. Kristin Allen, the library’s director, says this year’s addition of telehealth has started to become, well, contagious.

“I’ve had several people recently call and say, ‘How can I do this? How can I get one of those kits?’” she says. “Just come down and get a library card. That’s all you need.” 

For many Coloradans, today’s library card unlocks a lot more than books or even an ever-expanding array of digital material available from 113 public library jurisdictions across the state — and that’s particularly significant for relatively far-flung rural communities whose smaller systems account for nearly 75% of the total.

The way libraries serve the public has evolved significantly over the last several years — a trend that only accelerated during the COVID pandemic, says State Librarian Nicolle Davies. She notes that libraries “leaned into technology” for the entire range of patrons, whether that involved teaching grandparents how to use video chat apps, preparing job seekers for a 21st-century workforce or helping kids advance their digital literacy.

“For years, we were really freaked out that everybody identifies us as just books, but we’re so much more,” Davies says. “And the reality is we’ve been in the (digital) space long enough now that we’re comfortable saying, ‘Yeah, we are still about books and we’re about all these other things as well.’ So it’s very surprising when people visit libraries today and find out what we’re doing and what we have, because the perception still can be outdated and antiquated.”

The pandemic necessitated a number of innovations that worked around COVID restrictions, and many of those remain. Davies, who lives in Douglas County, recalls checking out a meat-smoking kit from her local library that came complete with recipes and seasonings. She also checked out an outdoor version of the block-stacking game Jenga for the family to play.

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“There were just so many ways that the library got really creative on how to provide services to people during the pandemic,” she says.

The pandemic also elevated the role of libraries when it came to digital resources like ebooks, audiobooks, streaming movies and music, notes Sherri Baca, executive director of the Pueblo City-County Library District. She said her district reallocated its 2020 budget to pump up funding to digital vendors, embracing the “library at home” concept that meant buying fewer hard-copy books in order to meet the needs of homebound patrons with digital offerings.

“Readers are reading, but the formats are a little different, which is great,” Baca says. “I think that that’s what libraries are supposed to do, move with the times and be very relevant to our users, and get them what they need when they need it.”

That credo has provided scaffolding for public libraries’ ongoing evolution, a transformation forged in times of a devastating virus and deafening political noise — both challenging factors as library workers face burnout on one hand and, on the other, an invigorating reimagining of their role. Pushing back against the headwinds of censorship, libraries have sought to serve as patches in the social safety net, channels closing the distance between patrons and health care, and myriad other functions — while still navigating the shifting demands for information and entertainment in all its digital and analog forms.

Digital content use was escalating even before the pandemic, and COVID ratcheted the demand even higher. But for the Denver Public Library, there’s still high interest not only in bound books, but also older media formats such as CDs and DVDs, which remain popular among those who may not have access to the latest streaming technology.

“We think that’s an equity issue,” says Michelle Jeske, the city librarian and executive director of the Denver Public Library. “A lot of people still don’t have high-speed internet access or may not have great devices for downloading ebooks or streaming videos. Some people might still have a VCR or a Blu-ray player, so we’re still seeing use of those formats. And that’s why we’re continuing to buy or support that part of our collection.”

The specter of censorship

In any format, library collections nationwide have become the target of challenges — some from individuals, others orchestrated by politically motivated groups that have brought issues surrounding intellectual freedom prominently into the public discourse.

Sept. 27 | 7:30 a.m.-4 p.m.

The libraries of the past are gone. So what are they now?

Remember when a library’s search engine was its card catalog? A lot has changed since then — from the materials to the technology to the scope of libraries’ very mission. Sun writer and book editor Kevin Simpson moderates a panel of experts for a conversation about the changes — and challenges — to a venerable American institution.

Join us for the panel at SunFest 2024.

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Colorado isn’t without its conflicts, but has been far less affected than many other states. Still, lawmakers in the last legislative session passed a measure designed to reinforce the policies and procedures Colorado’s public libraries employ not only to acquire and use materials, but to deal with challenges to their content. 

James LaRue, executive director of the Garfield County Public Library District, has dealt with more than a thousand such challenges over a career in library management that includes stints as director of the Douglas County libraries as well as with the American Library Association’s Office for Intellectual Freedom. His book “On Censorship” explores the motives behind the challenges, which have come from across the political spectrum, and the dangers of book banning.

“It has gone from the one or two people that get upset by running across something in a library to being more centrally coordinated,” he says, noting that nationally many of the recent objections stemmed from both isolation during the pandemic that pulled some down conspiracy rabbit holes and political strategy aimed at motivating conservatives for the 2022 midterm elections — most often by objecting to books with LGBTQ content. 

Poll after poll says this is a deeply unpopular view, that 70% of either party is opposed to censorship. But why do they keep at it? Because it seems to work. It gets people riled up, and as always in America we are both obsessed with and repelled by sex.

— James LaRue, executive director of the Garfield County Public Library District

“Poll after poll says this is a deeply unpopular view, that 70% of either party is opposed to censorship,” LaRue says. “But why do they keep at it? Because it seems to work. It gets people riled up, and as always in America we are both obsessed with and repelled by sex.”

Although he notes that other states have experienced more frequent challenges, and have seen legislative efforts aimed at even criminalizing anyone who provides access to certain materials, about five states have passed what he calls “anti-censorship legislation.”

“Colorado,” he adds, “is a much happier environment.”

In particular, he notes the new state law’s emphasis on the “request for reconsideration” that challenges must go through that effectively slows the process and prevents knee-jerk reactions. The new law requires that library boards establish a written policy for reconsideration, and lists specific standards that, among several other things, require they consider the perspectives of marginalized groups.

Davies, the state librarian, says that the rancor that spills over from book challenges now appears to have gotten personal. For years, she recalls, surveys on the most trusted professions in America found librarians ranked near the top, along with firefighters. But in the last few years she has been troubled to hear the integrity of her peers disparaged, even if the spitefulness seems less prevalent in Colorado.

“We’re all librarians at the end of the day,” she says, “and so when institutions like the American Library Association are getting challenged, and everybody’s lumping our profession into having this agenda of grooming children and being pedophiles, it’s just been something I never thought I would have seen in this work.” 

The Pueblo district has had a request for reconsideration policy in effect for more than 10 years, and the passage of the new law required them to simply tweak the timeline for how often an item could be reconsidered, Baca says — from once in a 12-month period to once every two years, the most frequent allowed by the law.

Although she welcomes the attention to the issue of censorship, she estimates that in the nine years she’s been with the library system it has received only one or two requests per year for material to be reconsidered.

In Denver, Jeske estimates she sees “zero to one challenge a year — knock on wood.” Even before the new state law, DPL changed its policy to only allow Denver residents to challenge materials to block organized national challenges.

Providing a social safety net

The pandemic proved challenging in many ways, and its aftermath revealed all sorts of societal issues that had always been present but suddenly were exacerbated. Think homelessness, mental health issues and substance abuse, among others. And libraries, particularly in population centers, found themselves nudged to become more engaged when it comes to connecting those in need with social services.

“That’s nothing new, especially for the Denver Public Library being in this urban setting,” Jeske says. “I think the pandemic demonstrated to us and the community how vital we are as a public space and a place of access — for learning, for knowledge, for technology and connection to the world.”

Not to mention for clean water and a restroom.

Since 2015, the Denver Public Library has had at least one social worker on staff to serve that population. That lone hire nine years ago “seemed like a win,” Jeske says, but soon it became clear that one wouldn’t be enough. Now there’s a Community Resources team of at least 10 people, some of them “peer navigators,” people whose experience mirrors those they’re serving.

The team’s training has spilled over to the entire frontline staff so they’re better equipped to handle issues like security, de-escalation, mental health and first aid.

“We’re one of the pioneers in that space,” Jeske says.

Increasing concern over drug abuse at libraries surfaced early last year with a string of suburban Denver library closures over possible contamination from methamphetamine fumes. (There were no reports of patrons affected by exposure.) Contamination became an issue at one branch in the Pueblo district that required action to remediate exposure to the public, Baca says — though fortuitously, the branch was already scheduled to close for renovations. 

But just as libraries have adapted to community needs, they’ve also had to adopt safety measures. In Pueblo, that means installing environmental sensors in the restrooms that monitor the air in real time to detect potential hazards and immediately notify staff.

“A lot of preventative kinds of stuff,” Baca says, “and just being really active in making sure people understand what the library rules are.”

Pueblo’s library system saw another vehicle for meeting the community’s needs. Although most of the district’s facilities are clustered in the city, Baca launched the telehealth pilot in 2,000-population Colorado City, about a half-hour south of the city limits. Kits similar to the ones used in Hugo and elsewhere are available, with the added feature of a hot spot that can provide patrons mobile internet access in an area where service can be lacking — thanks in part to grant money from the Federal Communications Commission during the pandemic.

Pueblo recently received a $250,000 Mellon Foundation grant for a project aimed at collecting digital archives to preserve the local culture and history of areas that may not have the wherewithal to host the material themselves. As the regional hub for this effort, the Pueblo library will be reaching out to communities across southern Colorado to solicit audio, video or photo files that can be uploaded to help maintain the historical record.

She holds out both projects as evidence of the evolving state of public libraries as they match resources with pressing local concerns.

“So it goes back to the social supports,” Baca says. “Where are the gaps? Can the library be relevant?”

Digital literacy, broadband and health

Kieran Hixon suspected something was up when he took part in Gov. Jared Polis’ broadband initiative and learned that rural areas use telehealth at far lower rates than urban centers. The trend seemed counterintuitive, given the scarcity of medical services in rural areas.

A subsequent partnership with the state Office of eHealth Innovation explored melding telehealth services with libraries that, especially in small towns, are considered anchor institutions when it comes to broadband. And it turns out that one of the hurdles to implementing telehealth in those communities is digital literacy. 

Hixon, the rural and small library consultant within the state department of education, saw the gaps and immediately knew libraries could be relevant by combining their core mission — namely literacy, including the digital kind — and their unique ability to provide access to broadband in far-flung locations. He started calling around to small libraries to ask what they thought and found that while some were already hearing about patrons’ health concerns, they didn’t have the resources to assist them. 

“I called this one librarian and she says, ‘People are coming in, and I just don’t know how to help them. And I could sure use help to do it better,’” Hixon says. “I was like, OK, we’re onto something.”  

In partnership with Ashley Heathfield, a telehealth project manager at the Office of eHealth Innovation, Hixon combed data to find the counties with the worst health outcomes that were farthest from medical services. Then they targeted libraries in those counties and sent out an email to see who was interested.

Eventually 17 library jurisdictions, encompassing 24 buildings, signed on to the pilot project, which has been running for less than a year. Early findings include greater use of the in-library spaces than the kits. 

But in Hugo, director Allen began a “soft launch” last spring, and then started spreading the word. Two portable kits have been the most popular, with Allen scanning a barcode just as she would a book to check them out. Patrons normally have 24 to 48 hours to use the kits, though Allen remains flexible. She also fitted a mobile desk that patrons can roll into the library’s board room to use for in-library telehealth appointments with privacy.

Each kit contains a laptop computer with features like headphones with individual volume controls for the hard of hearing and large-print keyboards for the vision impaired, and an ergonomic mouse. It also includes a ring light, scale, blood pressure monitor (including cuff sizes from child to extra large adult), pulse oximeter and forehead thermometer. The kit includes a wireless hot spot to provide an internet connection to a health care provider.

Getting people to realize that libraries are available for more than just books is changing a thought process.

— Kristin Allen, Hugo Public Library director

Allen estimates that the portable kits get checked out five or six times a month, a gradual increase as the area’s “very traditional” population becomes familiar with telehealth as an option and gets used to the idea that their library can be a resource to pursue it.

“Getting people to realize that libraries are available for more than just books is changing a thought process,” Allen says. “They still get surprised when you say, ‘Oh, yeah, you can come in and make copies.’ And then you throw in being able to check out a telehealth kit, and they’re like, ‘A what?’ It’s just a whole new thing for a lot of people to wrap their heads around.”

Librarians going … and coming 

As libraries have undergone mind-bending changes, there’s been some evidence of burnout among librarians even as another generation has embraced the job for new reasons.

Davies, the state librarian, says she’s seen signs of burnout particularly among those frontline staff who deal directly with the public. She also notes what appears to be a mass retirement among those in library leadership roles, though it’s unclear whether that’s a response to librarians coming under attack over issues of content, the overarching lack of civility from the public or just demographics naturally thinning the ranks.

“Regardless of why it’s happening,” she says, “it is happening.” 

But she adds that a lot of younger people have been attracted to librarianship, prompting a spike within some programs as students seek advanced degrees in library and information science, because the shifting role of libraries has in some ways recast the profession as social justice work.

“It’s an equalizer in a community,” Davies says. “It serves everybody.” 

Allen, 44, first worked as an auto insurance claims adjuster in California, but about 14 years ago migrated to Colorado when her company moved its call center to Colorado Springs. She eventually moved to Limon after her husband took a job at the correctional facility outside of town.

With a degree in early childhood education, Allen did day care in her home. She often took her own kids to the Limon Memorial Library for story time with library director Lucille Reimer.

Describing herself as “one of those odd introverts that likes people,” Allen soon found that at the library she was completely in her element, and that comfort zone fed an innate desire to help people. It wasn’t long before Reimer, who needed some extra help, offered her a part-time job. So a few days each week, Allen learned that being a librarian involved a lot more than checking out books.

“It’s a service that you’re providing a community,” she says. “And it just spoke to my heart.”

After about a year, the position overseeing the Hugo library opened up. Reimer urged her understudy to apply. Allen hesitated — she didn’t have that much experience. But Reimer convinced her to take a shot, and she got the job.

It’s part-time, like many library jobs in rural areas, but that meant Allen could continue helping Reimer on a morning schedule in Limon before heading over to run the Hugo library in the afternoon. Now, Reimer is retiring and passing the reins in Limon to Katie Zipperer, who has been directing the library’s bookmobile, another crucial tool for serving the 2,500 square miles of Lincoln County.

“We try to do everything we can together,” says Allen, who’s in her third year directing the Hugo library. “So when we make flyers, when we do programs, it’s always the three of us working together. So it’s been great to share resources.”

When she attended CALCON, the annual gathering of library staffers from all over the state, Allen saw the world opening up. She knew she wanted even her tiny facility to be about much more than books, and suddenly she learned that bigger (and better funded) libraries were doing all sorts of things to serve their populations.

“It just opened my eyes,” she says. “When I saw what other, bigger city libraries were doing, I thought, ‘We can do that.’ I was like a blank sheet when I got here.”

While Hugo’s size and budget might be limiting, Allen’s imagination was not. She noticed the array of “tool kits” that other libraries offered — materials for crafts, sewing machines, yoga, even memory resources for Alzheimer’s patients. She went to her board and told them that Hugo wasn’t keeping up. The library could do more.

So she started small, packaging various school materials in backpacks that students could check out. After those started gaining popularity, Allen moved to providing copying services and printing services that could produce brochures, flyers and posters. Word started filtering through town that the library could offer some extras like binding and laminating, printing and faxing — Allen even started providing a notary service.

With the Lincoln County Courthouse nearby, services like those proved particularly popular.

“We’re trying to do small things,” Allen says. “We don’t have tons of room but we can add on services to make things easier for people.”

When it comes to the future, Davies figures that Colorado is “just scratching the surface” in terms of creative ways that libraries can serve their patrons.  

“Ten years ago, we didn’t have a library of things where you can check out tools and you can check out cake pans, and you can check out VR headsets or GoPro cameras,” Davies says. “Whether you’re checking out gardening tools because you live in an apartment, but you have a gardening box, you don’t need to own these things. But how cool is it that you can check it out from the library?”

As gardens around Colorado begin to overflow with tomatoes, growers and cocktail enthusiasts may find themselves crossing paths at a unique version of that particular morning drink, whether the hair of the dog or a jump-start to the day, the Bloody Mary.

In a state bursting with home gardens, farmers markets, fresh produce and a DIY spirit, it seems inevitable that the drink would move beyond syrupy, heavily processed tomato juice out of a can. A couple of Colorado establishments offer their own versions of the drink and they stepped up with tips and tricks for the home bartender to try their hand.

Visitors to the juice bar at Mt. Princeton Hot Springs near Buena Vista have come across the freshly juiced Bloody Mary this summer, recently returned to the menu after some years of absence. The Mt. Princeton version of the cocktail relies on extremely ripe local hothouse tomatoes — grown on a neighboring property that makes use of the same geothermal activity that powers the springs — juiced along with a small handful of additional vegetables, according to Tom Warren, general manager at the hot springs.

For each 16-ounce drink, he said they juice five to six tomatoes along with half a lemon, a touch of fresh garlic and three local carrots, the last of which vastly improves the texture of the juice.

“With the tomatoes only it’s very thin, but when you squeeze the carrots it’s a thicker juice,” he said. “I think in the mouth it feels better than just the really really liquidy tomato juice.”

Warren rounds out the flavor profile with a touch of Japanese oyster sauce, which takes the place of traditional Worcestershire sauce in adding a touch of savoriness to the whole package, along with a sprinkle of salt and pepper and the customer’s choice of vodka. They experimented with oyster and Worcestershire, and Warren said the Worcestershire was too strong for the milder, freshly-juiced version of the cocktail. 

“We thought with the oyster sauce, it tasted very, very good. I did taste a sample with the Worcestershire sauce, it was not bad, but it almost overwhelmed the taste of the tomato,” he said. It’s overall a relatively low-sodium approach, though they rim the glass with Tajin, a blend of chile, lime and salt.

When it comes to garnishes, Mt. Princeton sticks with its minimal approach, offering bacon as an add-on. There once was an option to add three chilled shrimp, but that became “just a nightmare to prep” because of its popularity, Warren said.

For the home enthusiast, he recommends finding high-juice tomatoes, such as the fresh local ones used at the resort. “This is a very low-structured, soft tomato that’s full of liquid content,” he said. Some varieties and underripe tomatoes, liked the ones in the big box grocery stores that are “as hard as an apple,” will have too much flesh and yield less juice. “You would juice 20 for a (cocktail).”

Warren’s biggest recommendations for making a home-juiced Bloody Mary were to buy a good juicer and be prepared to spend some time making and perfecting the cocktail. It’s a “very simple, very wholesome” drink that relies on a few quality ingredients. “The real joy to it is that none of it is from a can or a bag.”

“The best Bloody Mary I’d ever had”

In Colorado Springs, Mother Muff’s owner Susan Hirt says her menu of Marys was informed by an older, more complex version of the Mt. Princeton cocktail that she enjoyed almost 20 years ago. Inspired by “the best Bloody Mary I’d ever had,” she experimented with different vegetables and different proportions to put one on the menu years later when opening Muff’s.

Because Mother Muff’s can serve hundreds of Bloody Marys in a day, the restaurant relies on a high-quality commercial tomato juice for its base, and blends it with a “concentrate” that consists of other juices and ingredients. The concentrate is made by juicing carrots, celery, cucumber, green and red bell peppers, beets (for color), jalapeño and a secret seventh ingredient in big batches using heavy-duty Breville juicers. They pass the initial pulp through a second time to ensure that they’re getting as much juice as possible for their effort and then freeze the concentrate

“At first we juiced every couple of days, because it only stays fresh for three or four days,” Hirt said. “I wanted to keep it as fresh as possible, and as veggie as possible. We came up with making it in big batches and freezing it.”

Vegetables get cleaned and chopped for ease of processing, but none are peeled. Once everything is processed, the vegetable juice is dosed with Tabasco and Worcestershire sauces and is ready to be added to the tomato juice.

For the home mixologist, Hirt recommended the approach she took to develop the Mother Muff’s recipe: juicing a few cups of a variety of vegetables, then playing with the proportions. She had a cucumber-heavy version that she liked, but it was less popular with tasters, so she dialed down the cucumber and turned up the peppers, carrots and other ingredients. “The beet helps to give it that juicy, earthy flavor, but it’s also for color,” she said. Without it, Muff’s mix is more brown than red.

Removing the seeds from the jalapeños or other peppers can impact the flavor profile and the level of heat, and she suggested substituting poblanos for the home mixologist who prefers it mild. She’s used Anaheim peppers in a pinch, as well.

“Don’t be afraid to try different things if it’s for yourself, for a party,” she advised. “It really is endless, the things you can juice. I think apple might be a really great minor ingredient if you’re looking for something different.”

Muff’s offers a variety of additional customizations that customers can explore or the home bartender can take inspiration from. There are choices that stray from vodka or house-infused poblano vodka — with offerings that include gin, rum, whiskey and tequila — and garnishes that range from the typical olive and celery stalk to bolder choices such as a pickle spear, bacon, blue cheese-stuffed olives and pepperoncini. 

Other tweaks, often based on regional interpretations, include Clamato instead of tomato juice, or augmenting the drink with olive juice, pickle juice, sriracha, wasabi, porter-style beer, and even beef broth. 

“There are different kinds of Bloody Marys depending on where you are in the United States,” Hirt said. “Where I grew in in Illinois, they put beef broth into ‘em, which I think is kinda gross, but it’s on there. Years and years and years ago, I stole a recipe from a bartender at The Keg Lounge in Manitou — who is now a regular, by the way, which I love — he put a little bit of porter beer in his Bloody Mary. It was something really unique that’d I’d never tried. It was really good, so it’s on there.”

So whether or not it includes clams or beef, Mother Muff’s illustrates the diversity of the drink. There are countless roads that the tender of a Bloody Mary bar can explore to make the drink their own, and the next great iteration might just come from a basket of fresh farmers market ingredients.

A basic tomato juice recipe

3 pounds very ripe tomatoes, cored and roughly chopped
1¼ cup chopped celery, including leaves
⅓ cup chopped onion
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 pinch of black pepper
A couple of shakes of Tabasco sauce (6-8 drops, to taste)

This recipe can be made using the cooked method, recommended by simplyrecipes.com, or using one of these no-cook methods (including putting the ingredients through a countertop juicer) recommended by alphafoodie.com.

We tested the recipe using the blender method using extremely ripe field tomatoes and substituting two carrots for the sugar.

The day warmed and whatever mist clung to the ridges faded and vanished. They stopped in the road and stripped off their jackets. The road hugged the shoreline loosely, straying around wooded hills and what looked like large holdings at water’s edge. Hard to tell, because where there might have been mansions there were now only blackened ruins and docks. And, again, the boats. Whatever boats, cleated to the docks or rocking on their moorings, had been left untouched. So they walked the edge of the road and skirted the lake, sometimes close, sometimes as much as a half-mile above. They tried twice to shortcut across fields and lost time crossing fences and ditches and scratched their arms in the brambles. Lost time. Did they have time to lose, or gain? Jess wondered. Since they had started walking it almost seemed time was suspended. Or the normal accounting of it. Because time worked best when there was a movement toward or away. Toward desire, away from death. Away from the Big Bang, toward an infinite expansion that might or might not be God. Toward quitting time, beer-thirty, a quinceañera, a vacation, a wedding, a funeral. Toward the sense of a poem, or love, or away from the chaos of a dream. But now they did not know, truly, what they were headed into or out of. Or what flashed on the horizon.

UNDERWRITTEN BY

Each week, The Colorado Sun and Colorado Humanities & Center For The Book feature an excerpt from a Colorado book and an interview with the author. Explore the SunLit archives at coloradosun.com/sunlit.

And so Storey, who still believed he had a bearing, which was his family, was more eager to try the shortcuts, and Jess had to remind him that they had cost.

And then what once were houses along the shoreline became more frequent, houses with docks and ski boats tied, and little Friendship sloops on moorings—probably a race class up here. There were flagpoles on the lawns that sloped to the water where American flags still hung and lifted in the pulsing breeze. And Jess knew they were getting close to the town and he wondered if whatever militia had blazed through was unionist and punishing a secessionist county. Could you use that term in the third millennium? Unionist? Was any of this really happening? Or was he now in some long, involved anxious dream, in which his grief at the loss of his wife bubbled to the surface and frothed? And from which he would wake, pillow damp, into a hunting trip with Storey . . . wake into a darkness before daybreak that held the same scents of spruce and fir and lakewater that he smelled now? How many dreams within dreams could a person wake from? In grade school everyone said that if you sneezed more than eight times you would die; was it like that?

And if this grim procession or juggernaut of harvest that they were following now—if it was anti-secessionist, why would they burn the places that flew the Stars and Stripes? Wouldn’t they leapfrog around them? And why would a rabidly secessionist town—rabid enough to become a target—let anyone fly an American flag? It made no sense.

Maybe they, whoever they were, knew that flying the flag was a shallow attempt to save one’s skin. Maybe they knew that the town knew they were coming—maybe they knew that, as they attacked, they could not shut down cell service fast enough, not before a few desperate calls got out, warning other folks along the lake, or farther afield. And those people, the townspeople here, armed with the knowledge that the storm was bearing down, maybe in one last act of apostasy, or its inverse, they ran the flags up the poles and prayed.

It was too confusing. They had no idea who was on whose side, or what, really, the sides were about. Jess stopped in the road and shook his head as if trying to clear it.

“What?” Storey said.

“The flags.” Jess pointed.

“So?”

“Didn’t we say that this might be some eruption over secession?”

“So?” Storey blinked down to the landscaped shoreline.

“So what do the flags mean?”

“Hell if I know.”

“I mean, whose side is who on? I’m thinking destruction on
this scale has gotta be full-on military. U.S. of A. So these towns
must be rebel or whatever. Right?”

Storey stood looking east and blinked in the autumn sun, a pale, early-morning sun that was barely an hour clear of the ridges. He stood as if smelling the still-cool breeze that stirred in the long grass at the edge of the road.

“I wonder if it matters,” he said.

“What?”

“I wonder if it matters whose side anyone is on.”

Jess winced at his friend. “What does that mean?”

Storey turned. He tucked his thumbs under the pack straps and shrugged the weight up off his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he said. “All this . . .” He trailed off. Jess waited. “It seems vicious and random.”

“Random?”

“Not random, I guess. Indiscriminate. They’re burning everything. Except the boats.”

“So . . . what, then?”

Storey looked back down to the lake. To the boats there, the flagpoles. “I dunno, Jess. It’s like the heat of the destruction, the savagery . . . It’s like it’s about something deeper than any issue like secession.”

“Burn”

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Jess watched his oldest friend. Whose week-old beard had flecks of gray. He knew, watching him, that Storey was thinking about the fierce and pervasive violence and that he was praying that it not spill over into New Hampshire and Vermont and touch his children and his wife. In suggesting that the violence felt deeper than secession he was voicing his own dread that it might not have boundaries.

Jess spat in the road, hitched up his own pack. “It’s probably just some crazy central-Maine shit. Right? Something like this was bound to happen somewhere.”

Storey was more than worried; he was grieving. Already. Jess could see it on his face. But Storey smiled, sad. He appreciated Jess’s effort.

Storey said, “The town would have sent out distress signals. One kind or another.”

“Right.”

“They would have warned everyone else. You know that the attacks, news of them, are zinging all over the news and the internet right now.”

“Right.”

“Why doesn’t it feel that way?”

In half a mile they came to a sign, green, that said “Randall, Population 2,732.” So they had let the sign stand. That did seem random, or at least scattershot, since Green Hill’s, on both sides of town, were gone.

But, as in Green Hill, not much else had been spared. The county road dropped down a gentle hill and into what must have been a pretty Main Street not high above the water. And so the town center was mostly flat, with streets branching down to the shore and a lovely wharf, still intact. On the far side of the wharf, with its walkway and benches and shade trees of oak and pine and maple, was another marina, this one at least twice the size of the one in Green Hill. The trees still stood; the benches invited respite. The boats swung gently on their moorings, as before. The black reek of burned houses watered their eyes.

Again, as they walked the sooted aisles of the narrow streets, they passed only the silent blackened monuments of chimney, hearth, foundation wall. Some still smoked, and when they stirred a heap of cinders with a length of rebar they pushed up glowing embers. They passed what must have been the stone arch entryway to a modest church; nothing else of it stood. Again they called out. Again they knew, without knowing why, that the typhoon of the reapers had passed and gone. Again they found few bodies. There was what must have been a child curled behind a stack of chimney stones, sheltered in what once must have been a hidden cubby or closet. The body was small and blackened and lipless with bared teeth, and Storey lurched from the sight and Jess heard him heave. There was what must have been a couple embraced beneath what must have been a
pickup in what must have been a garage. There was a badly burned body sprawled inside a grove of seven poplars whose unsinged leaves spun and clattered in the easy wind. How did that happen? On the north end of the wharf and behind it, at what once had been an intersection, a street sign still stood—bronzed letters embossed on dark steel: “Water Street.”

It seemed to Jess almost like a taunt; he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t want to look anymore. He walked to the edge of the wharf, which was decked with heavy, weather-grayed planks. They soothed him somehow. As did the prospect of open water, far shore, moored sailboats.

On the closest dock was a classic blue Boston Whaler skiff with a 150 Merc, clean and cleated, ready to travel. Why couldn’t they climb in and cast off? Gun the motor and aim for the distant shoreline? Land at some unburned camp and warn the family, make the calls, get a lift?

Because, Jess suspected, there were no families now. No cedar-shingled cottages with Adirondack chairs on a wide porch, with nursery-bought geraniums hanging from baskets under the eaves, and some yellow Lab barking good-naturedly as he and Storey coasted in. Some barefoot child running after the dog and yelling, “Opey, no! Opey! Bad dog!” Jess throwing a single hitch over the piling and clambering out, the dog now bumping legs and whining, Jess pounding the top of his mallet head with an open palm, the child yelling “Opey, no!” though there was nothing anymore to redress, the child scrambling out to the end of the dock and grabbing his dog by the collar, dragging him back, explaining seriously, “He’s nice, he doesn’t bite!” The mother stepping off the porch, the father from the garden beside the cottage, wiping hands on thighs of blue jeans as in a choreography, as in a movie, as in a Norman Rockwell painting titled The Greeting in which the Sunday-morning boaters are not traumatized strangers but old friends from across the lake who bring jars of honey from their own bees and a Superman comic for Willum, and everyone sticks to their lines. Jess felt a lurch in his chest. Why couldn’t anyone stick to their lines, ever? Life might accede to being idealized for a single freeze-frame picture but the characters always cracked. Or went away. And he knew that if that family ever did in fact exist, and did in fact share moments of joy and days of peace, they existed on this day no longer. He and Storey could get in the boat and power across the lake and run up along the shore and he knew what they’d find. And then what? Somehow they intuited that they were safer in the wake of the holocaust, the way veteran wildland firefighters will “run back into the black,” run for safety into the zone that has just been burned. But you could not follow the devastation forever. Because by the time you were discovered and killed your spirit would be already dead.

Excerpted from “Burn”  by Peter Heller, published by Knopf, an imprint of the Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC.  Copyright © 2024 by Bear One Holdings, LLC.

Peter Heller’s previous novels include “The Dog Stars,” his celebrated debut and breakout bestseller in 2012, as well as the Colorado Book Award-winning “The Painter” in 2014. “The River” from 2019 also became a national bestseller and led to “The Guide” in 2021. “The Last Ranger,” about an enforcement ranger in Yellowstone National Park, was published last year and his latest novel, “Burn,” was published in August, 2024. Heller is also an award winning adventure writer and the author of four books of literary nonfiction. He lives in Denver.

It’s political blackmail, pure and simple.

There is no real need for the coming special session of the state legislature, but Michael Fields and his team at Advance Colorado have successfully blackmailed the governor, who may not mind so much, and Democrats in the state legislature, many of whom definitely do mind, to agree to a special session to once again reduce property taxes.

Advance Colorado, the advocacy group that claims to oppose “radical” — meaning liberal — Colorado policies, and Colorado Concern, a conservative nonprofit that represents state business interests, are sponsoring two property tax ballot measures that are generally described as either “reckless” or “devastating” or — maybe this is just me — something very close to extortion.

And if the state legislature passes a new property tax bill — as it almost certainly will — Fields has promised to withdraw the initiatives, which are sufficiently radical and would be sufficiently dangerous that everyone, — by which I mean virtually everyone, suddenly felt the absolute need to give in to Fields.

The betting has been that neither measure would pass. The early polling seemed to suggest that neither would pass. But suddenly, in just the past few days, those who seemed ready to gamble got a collective case of cold feet. By cold, I mean ice-age cold. Pre-global-warming cold.

The stakes apparently were just too high. And the final bet by Jared Polis and those in the state legislature was that Fields et al were not bluffing.

State budget director Mark Ferrandino said if the two proposals passed — Initiative 50, which would place a strict cap on property tax growth, and Initiative 108, which would cut property tax revenue by an estimated $2.4 billion — they would cause a recession-equivalent budget crisis.

And so with just weeks to go before the two proposals would be certified for the November ballot, a wide-ranging group of Coloradans, from labor groups like the Colorado Teachers Association to school districts and university officials to conservative groups like Club 20, came together to call for a special session to ward off a “very significant and real threat to all communities in Colorado.”

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These are groups that rarely agree on anything, but they did agree there was more than a little justifiable panic in the air.

The mayors of Colorado’s three largest cities — one mayor a Democrat, one a Republican and one Unaffiliated  — also wrote a letter citing the desperate need for a special session.

”If passed, these two initiative will drastically defund K-12 schools statewide, deplete public safety resources and demand crippling cuts to local fire districts and special districts,” wrote Denver Mayor Mike Johnston (D), Aurora Mayor Mike Coffman (R) and Colorado Springs Mayor Yemi Mobolade (U). “These are very real impacts that will negatively impact every resident’s quality of life. We are depending on our legislature to ensure this does not happen.”

We could also expect cuts in transportation funding, in higher education and in Medicaid.

Yeah, dangerous. And radical.

As Polis put it, “whatever the level of risk is — whether it’s a 50-50 chance it passes or a 30% chance it passes” — the risk is too high.

And so Polis has decreed that the legislature will meet, starting Aug. 26, to hammer out what has apparently already been agreed to. It takes at least three days to get a bill passed and ready for the governor to sign, and the hope — although maybe not the reality — is that’s what will happen. If past is prologue, and it often is, sometimes these special sessions can go off the rails.

It’s an election year, meaning anything is possible. And it’s not just Republicans who might have an interest in making the session more interesting than Polis would like. Several progressive Democrats who lost in primary races to candidates backed by the party establishment would be back on the floor and might have something to say.

Which doesn’t mean that Polis is entirely unhappy. You may recall that just last May, at the end of the regular legislative session, they passed a bill, one that Polis signed, that reduced property taxes by somewhat more than $1 billion. You may also recall that Polis, who hasn’t seen a state tax rate he doesn’t want to lower, wanted a bigger cut.

And of course, in a special session called last year, the legislature passed emergency aid for homeowners and renters. And there’s the bill passed in the 2023 session. I think you can spot a trend.

There was the thought — or at least the hope — that the bill in the last regular session had sufficiently addressed, at least for a while, what has been a crisis in property tax hikes, fueled by the runaway rise in housing prices. Although Colorado property tax rates are relatively low compared to most states, that didn’t prevent untenable growth in costs for many homeowners. 

A new proposal would cut property taxes by $255 million in addition to the cuts already passed. And if the legislature sends a similar proposal to Polis to sign, Fields said that not only would he pull both measures from the ballot, but that the bill could provide  a “permanent solution to Colorado’s property tax crisis.” 

When The Sun asked Polis, as reported in The Unaffiliated newsletter, about the outside groups using the ballot to force the legislature’s hand, he said, “This is another example of an issue where, of course, it’s the right of people who petition and go to the people to decide things, but if the legislature can work it out, and we can avoid that and provide more stability for the states, that’s a good thing.”

Which, I believe, is Polis-speak for, this has worked out just the way I wanted it to.

He also said in the interview that he didn’t think this meant the issue was solved “forever,” but that he hoped the issue might be resolved for maybe the next 10 years.

Which brings us back to the issue of blackmail.

You know how it is with blackmailers. If they get away with it once, they can be counted on to come back again. And again. And again.

They may say that they won’t. They may promise with a blood oath that they won’t. But, here’s the catch: Why should anyone believe a blackmailer?

Look, it might well be that Advance Colorado or Colorado Concern won’t bring up another initiative. But who’s to say that some other group won’t bring up something even more radical and more dangerous and find someone else with big money to back it?

The risk is there. But in this case, neither Polis nor the legislature had any real choice but to pay up. 

Mike Littwin has been a columnist for too many years to count. He has covered Dr. J, four presidential inaugurations, six national conventions and countless brain-numbing speeches in the New Hampshire and Iowa snow. Sign up for Mike’s newsletter.

The Colorado Sun is a nonpartisan news organization, and the opinions of columnists and editorial writers do not reflect the opinions of the newsroom. Read our ethics policy for more on The Sun’s opinion policy. Learn how to submit a column. Reach the opinion editor at opinion@coloradosun.com.

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Colorado is ready for the return of the Big Lie. It never really went away, after all. It was just sort of muted after more than 60 courts across the country ruled unequivocally that the outcome of the 2020 presidential election was fair and accurate, and it was all a giant con.

But it’s an election year and potential losers are hedging their bets, so the Big Lie is making a comeback tour.

Addressing it is a little like playing whack-a-mole — you have to keep knocking back the weirdness wherever it pops up. But here in Colorado we have what it takes to bring the hammer down.

If you don’t believe it, just ask Tina Peters, former Mesa County clerk who last week was convicted of four felonies and three misdemeanors in connection with her efforts to manufacture evidence in support of the Big Liar.

The message is clear: we don’t mess around when it comes to election fraud. The Peters case is a high-profile example of how the state holds elections officials accountable to protect the integrity of the process. 

So, when Trump went off on Truth Social last week, saying all-mail voting was brought about by Gov. Jared Polis and has made Colorado “a POLITICAL CESSPOOL where, even if you were leading, it would make no difference!”, it unleashed a storm of righteous outrage.

Kyle Clark, the 9News anchor, promptly dissected Trump’s rantings, noting that mail-in voting was instituted as a result of a bipartisan effort dating to years before Polis was elected governor and it was “implemented by a Republican secretary of state.” 

Clark also noted that the Heritage Foundation, hardly a leftie bunch, had uncovered only 15 cases of voter fraud in the 10 years since mail-in voting began in Colorado. 

“The two most prominent cases were a former GOP chair and a man suspected of killing his wife who admitted casting her ballot for Trump,” he said.

Both were apprehended and prosecuted.

Catching cheaters is one strategy for ensuring free and fair elections in Colorado, but there are several others. 

Secretary of State Jena Griswold said protecting elections involves a galaxy of programs to ensure the integrity of the process. They include using paper ballots because they “can’t be hacked,” maintaining the security surrounding vote-counting equipment, having a strict chain of custody of all ballots and equipment, doing background checks on election workers, launching a cyber command center to counter any potential threats to systems, and assembling bipartisan teams to test equipment and oversee voting audits.

Still, she knows there always will be skeptics and doubters.

With all the disinformation that has been circulating about mail ballots since 2016, “it has shaken some people’s confidence,” she said. “We may not be able to convince everybody, but we want to make sure there’s enough good information out there.”

It seems to be working. Ninety percent of voters use mail-in ballots, she said.

But the hostile minority who have embraced the disinformation circulating from foreign adversaries and sore losers in this country can wreak real havoc. 

The Big Lie has incited a torrent of violent threats against elections officials and poll workers in Colorado. 

In the past year, Griswold alone has received more than 900 threats over bogus election fraud accusations. For this and other reasons, the state has seen a 38% turnover rate in county clerks since 2020.

The secretary of state’s office has created a $5 million fund for security personnel to protect county officials from people trying to disrupt elections and to apprehend those who attempt to harm people or the process. 

It’s a crime in Colorado to threaten election workers. It’s also against the law to carry firearms openly at polling places or where ballots are being processed. 

“It can get really scary,” Griswold said. “No person should have to face death threats for doing their jobs.”

The system that Trump flagrantly, deceptively mischaracterizes as a “CESSPOOL” is one of the most respected elections operations in the country, dubbed “the gold standard” by the League of Women Voters.

Every registered voter is checked for eligibility, Griswold said, and every signature on every ballot is checked to make sure only one ballot is cast per registered voter. The state is also part of an interstate compact that compares ballots to make sure no one is voting more than once.

“If we find any indication of double-voting, it’s referred for prosecution,” she said, “but it’s extremely rare.”

Nobody takes that for granted, though. It requires constant vigilance. 

The pressure is intense on every county clerk and every election worker to ensure each voter is eligible and every vote is counted. Protecting elections requires the willingness to hold every scofflaw, every cheat, every bad actor accountable.

Which brings us back to Tina Peters, the most recent example that the system is working.

Her sentencing is scheduled for Oct. 3. We could see her in an orange jumpsuit by Election Day 2024.

Diane Carman is a Denver communications consultant.

The Colorado Sun is a nonpartisan news organization, and the opinions of columnists and editorial writers do not reflect the opinions of the newsroom. Read our ethics policy for more on The Sun’s opinion policy. Learn how to submit a column. Reach the opinion editor at opinion@coloradosun.com.

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Peter Heller is a longtime contributor to NPR, and a former contributing editor at Outside Magazine, Men’s Journal, and National Geographic Adventure. His previous novels include “The Dog Stars,” his celebrated debut and breakout bestseller in 2012, as well as the Colorado Book Award-winning “The Painter” in 2014. “The River” from 2019 also became a national bestseller and led to “The Guide” in 2021. “The Last Ranger,” about an enforcement ranger in Yellowstone National Park, was published last year and his latest novel, “Burn,” was published in August, 2024. Heller is also an award winning adventure writer and the author of four books of literary nonfiction. He has worked as a dishwasher, construction worker, logger, offshore fisherman, kayak instructor, river guide, and world class pizza deliverer. He lives in Denver.

SunLit: Tell us the backstory of “Burn.” Was there one particular real-life event that cemented the idea of a dystopian narrative, or was this an idea you’d been considering for some time?

Peter Heller: I never have an idea for a novel.  I came up as a poet and I’m always more interested in the music of the language than a plot.  So I start with a first line whose cadence and sound I love and follow it into the second line and the third.  The story rides on the back of the language. 

Pretty soon I bump into whatever’s on my heart, what’s really concerning me.  And that often surprises me.  You don’t have to be an aficionado of current events to feel the fracturing in our country, the growing and fundamental fissures in how we see the world and our roles as individuals and as a society; to see the disagreements curdling to hatred and sometimes to violence. 

I was once teaching kayaking on a remote river in Costa Rica.  We came out after four days and discovered that the Berlin Wall had fallen.  So having two best friends go hunting together in remotest Maine and emerge into a world of bewildering violence does not seem like much of a stretch.

SunLit: Place this excerpt you’ve chosen in context. How does it fit into the book as a whole? Why did you select it?

Heller: As I wrote myself into the narrative, I found myself following (protagonists) Storey and Jess as they moved through this landscape racked by violence.  And like them, I had no real idea what was going on.  I had to discover it with my characters — just as a reader would.  Which was thrilling and kind of terrifying.  I chose the excerpt to give a sense of this movement, and of the deep friendship between the two men.

SunLit: How does the relationship between your characters Jess and Storey, who emerge from their trip to find a starkly divided America, fit into the broader societal and political rift?

UNDERWRITTEN BY

Each week, The Colorado Sun and Colorado Humanities & Center For The Book feature an excerpt from a Colorado book and an interview with the author. Explore the SunLit archives at coloradosun.com/sunlit.

Heller: Well, there is this sense that whatever happens in this conflict — which may or may not be rippling out into the broader nation — their friendship is solid, irrevocable.  I can only hope that their bond stands for the state of our Union.  That whatever the perceived betrayals or wrongs…we can get past them.  In the history of the world there has never been a nation or a community with the manifold beauty and potential of the United States of America.  I believe that.  I pray that we endure.

SunLit: Your work has been praised often for the way your novels incorporate the natural world. What is the significance of the wilderness setting in which “Burn” unfolds?

Heller: I’m not sure what the significance is of the natural world in “Burn”.  Except that the sheer and enduring beauty of the Earth in her wildness throws into high relief the folly of men.  And that somehow her implacable silence, her refusal to hate or judge, may redeem us.  

SunLit: Your early work in adventure writing explores some amazing exploits, from surfing to sailing with eco-pirates to epic whitewater expeditions. How have those experiences influenced and informed your novels? 

Heller: On those journeys I often encountered wild country at its most ferocious and raw, and witnessed characters under great pressure.  Often, too, I chronicled my own succession of emotions through ambition, pride, desire, fear, love, terror, euphoria.  Worthy ingredients for good fiction.

“Burn”

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SunLit: Within the genre of dystopian fiction, do you have any favorite writers and/or filmmakers whose work has entertained, inspired or influenced you?

Heller: For sure.  Ishiguro slays me.  One of the most disturbing novels I ever read was his “The Unconsoled.”  It may not be strictly dystopian, but the protagonist enters a world that gradually and irretrievably tilts away from what we accept as a stable reality.  The tilting itself becomes the nightmare.  His speculative “Klara and the Sun” I found equally disturbing.  Nor can I ever shake Nevil Shute’s “On The Beach.”  It was written in 1957 and is as chilling today.  A young family in Australia tries to carry on their sweet and normal life as they wait for the fatal fallout from a nuclear World War III to waft into the Southern Hemisphere.  It broke my heart…for all of us.  And then, of course, “The Road.”  Cormac McCarthy is a great and bleak genius.

SunLit: How does the theme of male friendship fit into “Burn” and how do its distinguishing characteristics dovetail with the narrative?

Heller: Jess and Storey have been friends since kindergarten.  They grew up a mile apart on a dirt road above a small town in Vermont and they went through school together, shared a thousand dinners, helped each other’s families cut firewood and make maple syrup.  They know each other’s heartbreaks and joys and they are loyal and forgiving.  They are generous to a fault, usually gentle, but harsh when they need to be.  And they, like all of us, are far from perfect people.  The novel is as much about their friendship and about the search for a certain grace as it is about societal dystopia.

SunLit: Some early readers have described the secessionist battle in “Burn” as a “very possible” scenario in our not-so-distant future. Do you share the view that we may be closer than we think to such a consequence of our deeply divided political and social outlooks?

Heller: I think it could happen the day after tomorrow.  Truly.

SunLit: Many authors who have released books in the last couple of years have talked about the influence, for better or worse, of the pandemic on their creative process. How did you navigate the shutdown?

Heller: The shutdown was tough.  I write in a coffee shop and I had to adjust to writing at home.  That was okay.  Thank God, many of the things I love most are outdoors and often solitary.  I could keep fishing, and running whitewater with others was safe enough.  My wife has a keen sense of humor and that helped a lot.  Someone asked her how COVID went and she gave the best two word answer I ever heard:  She turned to me and said, “You again?”

SunLit: Tell us a little about your writing process. When and where do you prefer to write? Do you have a routine? Do you outline your novels or do they develop as you go?

Heller: I write in a coffee shop, as I said.  I drink two big mugs of strong coffee before I even get there.  When I’m onto a novel, I write a thousand words a day, six or seven days a week.  I never write less and always write just past the quota until I’m into something exciting and then I make myself stop.  That way I’m always in the middle of something, and the next morning I can’t wait to jump out of bed and keep going.  I don’t edit as I go, I don’t usually plot or plan, but follow the language, images, characters…follow a narrative current into new territory.  I want to be as surprised as the reader.

Each week as part of SunLit — The Sun’s literature section — we feature staff recommendations from book stores across Colorado. This week, the staff from Poor Richard’s Books in Colorado Springs recommends a touching summer story, classic King and Longmire’s latest.

The Summer Book

By Tove Jansson
NYRB Classics
$15.95
May 2008
Purchase

From the publisher: Tove Jansson distills the essence of the summer—its sunlight and storms—into 22 crystalline vignettes. This brief novel tells the story of Sophia, a 6-year-old girl awakening to existence, and Sophia’s grandmother, nearing the end of hers, as they spend the summer on a tiny unspoiled island in the Gulf of Finland. The grandmother is unsentimental and wise, if a little cranky; Sophia is impetuous and volatile, but she tends to her grandmother with the care of a new parent. Together they amble over coastline and forest in easy companionship, build boats from bark, create a miniature Venice, write a fanciful study of local bugs. They discuss things that matter to young and old alike: life, death, the nature of God and of love.

From Jeffery Payne, assistant retail manager: Opening the first page of “The Summer Book” we are gently introduced to Sophia – a precocious, inquisitive child with worldly questions and a bit of seething anger just underneath the skin, and her grandmother – wise, caring with sharp words with a glint of mischievousness in eyes and cigarettes in worn pockets.

Jansson captured the pace of summer life on a small remote island in the Gulf of Finland. Skillfully crafted words lull the reader into a quiet space of mind and place. Her keen observations (on both nature and humankind) are a gentle, compassionate soft punch to the stomach at times. Written with a naturalist eye and an obvious love of life on the Finnish coast, “The Summer Book” gives us a good reason to stop and take a few moments to enjoy the waning days of this season.

Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption

By Stephen King
Scribner Book Company
$14
September 2020
Purchase

From the publisher: A mesmerizing tale of unjust imprisonment and offbeat escape, this is one of Stephen King’s most beloved and iconic stories, and it helped make Castle Rock a place readers would return to over and over again. Suspenseful, mysterious, and heart-wrenching, this iconic King novella, populated by a cast of unforgettable characters, is about a fiercely compelling convict named Andy Dufresne who is seeking his ultimate revenge. Originally published in 1982 in the collection “Different Seasons,” it was made into the film “The Shawshank Redemption” in 1994.

From Jeffery Payne, assistant retail manager: Let me be perfectly honest, I am not a Stephen King fan. I don’t know what (story) started it, but I have shied away from reading anything written by Mr. King for decades. Recently when I was stuck without something to read between “major” books, I asked my colleague (Hi, Thom!) for ideas, he suggested, again, this novella.

There isn’t much new to say about “Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption” other than if one hasn’t read it, put it on the list. The concise and powerful use of words tells a story of hope and determination. The characters are incredibly fully developed even though this is a very small book when compared to King’s other volumes. We are drawn in easily, willingly. There is a reason that King has been a writing monument for many years, he is seriously good at his craft.

First Frost

By Craig Johnson
Viking
$30
May 2024
Purchase

From the publisher: It’s the summer of 1964, and recent college graduates Walt Longmire and Henry Standing Bear read the writing on the wall and enlist to serve in the Vietnam War. As they catch a few final waves in California before reporting for duty, a sudden storm assaults the shores and capsizes a nearby cargo boat. Walt and Henry jump to action, but it’s soon revealed by the police who greet them ashore that the sunken boat carried valuable contraband from underground sources.

The boys, in their early 20s and in the peak of their physical prowess from playing college football for the last four years, head out on Route 66. The question, of course, is how far they will get before the consequences of their actions catch up to them—the answer being, not very.

Back in the present day, Walt is forced to speak before a judge following the fatal events of “The Longmire Defense.” With powerful enemies lurking behind the scenes, the sheriff of Absaroka County must consider his options if he wishes to finish the fight he started. Going back and forth between 1964 and the present day, Craig Johnson brings us a propulsive dual timeline as Walt Longmire stands in the crossfire of good and evil, law and anarchy, compassion and cruelty at two pivotal stages in his life.

From Jeffery Payne, assistant retail manager: Craig Johnson doesn’t disappoint with the latest volume in the Longmire series. In “First Frost” we seesaw between the past, where Longmire and his best friend, Standing Bear, do a good deed, or at least they think it’s a good deed, and how things play out decades later. The page-turning read shows just how decisions of years ago play an important part in where we all are today. The turmoil plays out cleverly, trying and strengthening the patience of friendships and the law. In quintessential Johnson style, there is subtle humor, point-on examination of the human psyche and the great cast of side characters that rarely get their due.

THIS WEEK’S BOOK RECS COME FROM:

Poor Richard’s Books

320 N. Tejon St., Colorado Springs

poorrichardsdowntown.com

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As part of The Colorado Sun’s literature section — SunLit — we’re featuring staff picks from book stores across the state. Read more.