The Muse of the West; or, Vintage Postcard Says It All

When I took my first step out West–off a Greyhound bus onto the soil of Colorado–I said, “No.”

No meant N-O to being a teacher there, to living there, to being part of its Flatirons and Rockies. It was the part of me that wanted the concrete canyons of New York (and still does). But like a . . . → Read More: The Muse of the West; or, Vintage Postcard Says It All