A Letter to My Beloved Sister

Dear Kansas, I know it's been a long time since you've heard from your little sis. Time flies when you're 139. But as you've probably heard, I'm pretty busy over here and a little worse for the wear and tear.

The last time I wrote to you, I was worried because some of your citizens were so upset about your portrayal in "The Wizard of Oz," I was afraid they might do something drastic to change your image. The last thing I wanted you to do was gussy yourself up so people would trample all over you and spoil your beauty like they have my own purple mountain majesties.

Here the tourist thing continues to make me feel like a scarlet state. Colored Red indeed. Social media has made things even worse. My glamour shots are posted everywhere and bloggers tell everyone to come ogle me and trample all over my curves. I've tried to tell the public that certain parts of me are fragile and need to be protected but they still act like I'm theirs for the taking. I'm losing the wild in my wilderness and it hasn't made me a happy camper. 

It still bugs me that people overlook you! I don't understand why they don't appreciate your spacious skies and amber waves of grain. How I envy the subtle beauty of your Tallgrass Prairies! Being flat-chested is not such a bad thing. You still have your purity. Like I told you years ago, you can't make yourself available to everyone and still keep your self respect.

Since I wrote to you last, you seem to have decided that if you can't beat them, join them! Good for you! Wamego is capitalizing on Frank Baum's fairy tale with an Oz Museum and OZtoberFest. How clever! And, oh how you have made me laugh with your offbeat landmarks! The world's largest ball of twine! I can't say I blame you for tempting a few people off the road with your country charms.

Sis, I'm so thankful that we've remained close even though we squabble about things once in awhile. We fought about water rights to "OurKansas" river for many years. And now some of your sheriffs have joined sisters Nebraska and Oklahoma (the reason you're so darn windy) in suing me for legalizing recreational marijuana. Do you remember that when you were declared the winner in our water fight, you complained that you didn't want money, you wanted water? Well, if you win this fight, do you want money or pot?

Kidding aside, I didn't intend for it to go this far. I just wanted to help people with medical issues. A real Rocky Mountain high can't be found in cannabis. It's in the serenity of a clear blue mountain lake or the quiet solitude of a pine forest. And now I know how you feel when people make fun of you. I have been the butt of lots of jokes. I've been publicly shamed by the governor of our much older sister, New Jersey, who tells everybody the quality of life in my state is really bad now. It's not as bad as he says, but still, this is not how I want to be known.

Nowadays, I'm trying really hard to figure out how to protect my kids. Which brings me to the real reason your adoring little sister is writing this time. I am also worried about your kids. From way over here, I hear your citizens complaining about your governor, about how his drastic tax cuts are hurting public education. I can talk for days about the importance of protecting natural resources but there is no greater resource than our kids! I hope you'll think about what's going to happen if you let ambitious politicians drive your public schools into the ground.

Sister, I will always remember that a part of me, my eastern parts, were once a part of you. I would love nothing more than sit with you and listen to the thunder or to sit quietly watching the fireflies. I don't have lightening bugs, you know.

I must close now and go put out a fire.

Your loving sister,

COLORADO

******

This letter was inspired by a man named Jack Kisling (1930-1998), a columnist who wrote for The Denver Post. Many years ago, I cut out a reprint of Kisling's June 25, 1978 "Here's Denver" column, titled "I wouldn't kid my sister." It was a wonderfully funny tribute to the state I grew up in. I recently found the clipping tucked away in a box, yellow with age. His sentiments are as true today as they were back then.

I can tell by the way my air feels that my looks are fading, and still they consider me the great beauty of the West and the waiting line grows longer instead of shorter. Where is it all going to end?