I could say the same for September

I've spent most of this month in Pueblo, Colorado. It's unfortunately a rundown, backward kind of town. I haven't seen this many mullets since I graduated from high school in the 80s. And they're some beautiful mullets, too: spiky on top and long, long, long in the back, often in a ponytail. The men sporting these coifs look like they're stuck in some kind of small town time warp, driving muscle cars and wearing dark T-shirts with the arm holes cut out to allow more room for their bulging biceps to creep out. My sister and I actually spoke briefly to a mullet-man in a Walmart; he was very helpful. He had a good mullet: his long salt-and-pepper hair was trailing down over his blue smock and the shorter hairs on the top were gently poufed out with just the right touch of hair spray and gel. I think we almost ran into him with our cart. Zoey said hello and he smiled at her. He probably has three grown kids at home.

I think the saddest thing so far about being in Pueblo is how I have found some measure of comfort in all the chain stores that dot the highway. I see a Ross and Barnes & Noble and try and believe this town isn't so hopeless. There's even a Lowe's and a Home Depot, providing yet another battleground between the two home building supply giants. But these stores are everywhere, and really only symbolize the many locally owned businesses whose livelihoods were ruined by their advent into town. I've yet to see a small hardware store; the one book store I saw looked closed down. I know this is bad for America on several levels, and yet I'm comforted by the sight of them because they are familiar and nothing else in this town is.

Fortunately, the weather has been beautiful, and the neighborhood Trey picked out is really cute. Zoey and I have taken many walks, which she loves, and we're about to get dressed to go play in the park. She's happy to see her daddy, even if he is working too hard and is often grumpy when he gets home. And every now and then I turn a corner and see mountains. There's hope yet.