Access is what it's all about

We don't kid ourselves around the ol' newspaper about the tenuous nature of legal notices being required to be published with us.
Government entities are required to publish notices in the dominant medium serving that area. In return, newspapers offer a vehicle of transparency for the public, a verification that governments are doing what they are supposed to do. Likewise, many court-related orders require legal notice postings in the newspaper. You'll find an example of that in the "Summons by Publication" on page 14 in this issue.

Turning 141 this week

Like an odometer tracking the historic mileage of Ouray County, we just rolled over to our 141st year this week. The Silverton Standard and the Miner is two years older, being the oldest operating business on the Western Slope.
The paper has been through a lot, including several name changes and an ownership duo who, according to former owner/publisher Joyce Jorgensen, drank and argued frequently until one torched the newspaper office out of vengeance on the other.

There they go again!

Well, they did it again. That lisp of a leaflet just 11 miles west of us as the crow flies, but worlds away using any measurement of ethics, lifted our work again.
It took a paragraph from the story we ran last week about the Ridgway School Board hiring a new superintendent. That would be our story, our work.
You'll recall just a few months ago they used the collective work of our reporting on local court cases involving sexual abuse as the basis for one of their probing, in-depth rehashed looks into Ouray County.

Developing a flashy personality

This month finds our family celebrating a wonderful birthday. It’s not the kids..not the grandkids..not the Cowboy…it’s Wiley’s first birthday.
Wiley is my colt. Steve bought him for me last July as a weanling (horse under the age of 1). We have had him at home since November. He is a joy to behold. I have never raised a horse from weanling. It is an experience I have always wanted to be a part of but never had the chance. I am loving every minute of it. He changes daily and his muscle structure is a wonder to look at. As Steve puts it, “he’s a well built son of a **tch.”

Community that cares

Dear Editor,
Ouray County Communities that Care (CTC) would like to recognize and thank the all the members of our coalition. We thank you for the many hours that you have volunteered and we are so proud of the commitment and work that everyone has shown!

Why retain Mark Garcia?

Dear Editor,
Unfortunately, I missed my opportunity to speak at the city council meeting last week. If I had, I would have voiced my concern and disapproval of the PSA with Mark Garcia Proposal. I looked at the information provided in Exhibit A on the agenda and I feel like the City is paying a middle man whose work could and should be done by the employees of Ouray.

Early season bear scare

This may be the worst bear story of the season, and the season has barely begun.
It's a near-tragic story. And a bit curious one from my view. Though my co-publishing bride thinks not.
Early Sunday morning in Orchard Mesa, on the southeast end of Grand Junction, a mother was awakened at 2:30 a.m. by screams. According to Colorado Parks and Wildlife, the woman went outside to investigate and witnessed a large black bear dragging her 5-year-old daughter.
The mother screamed. The bear dropped the girl.

Support for courthouse renovation

Dear Editor,
I would like to thank the citizens of Ouray County who approved the ballot issue providing for the financing for the renovations to the Ouray County Courthouse. You voted in good faith in the ability of Ouray County and its administrators and employees to oversee this incredibly complex project and as a member of the committee which promoted this positive vote and as one who continues to participate in the updates and community outreach I can tell you with complete confidence that this complex project is in extremely capable hands.

A doctor, a church, a dark night and a drug deal

“You can buy it on the street, Tom,” he said. “When you get home, just go out and get some so Maggy can try it, okay?”
It was circa 1980. The “it” was marijuana, a “controlled substance” I had never bought and MJ had never even tried. The thin, gray-haired man in the pinstriped suit prescribing pot was a distinguished MD—a hematologist, to be precise. (“Maggy” was a term of affection he adopted early on in MJ’s treatment.)