In August of 1968, Judy and me driving cross-country in our 1966 VW Bus, having left Southern California searching for a place we’d rather be, we discovered Colorado, a place we had never been before. And when we stopped at a pullout on top of the hill overlooking Boulder, we were so blown away by what we had found, a little city filled with trees, at the base of the foothills, backdropped by the flatirons, and farther back the continental divide, we immediately declared “We’re home”, before we had even driven down into town to find a place to stay and begin to look for jobs. Thus began our exploration of the wonders of Colorado. It was a magical time.
Then, in 1972, four years later, John Denver put to words what we had experienced. “He was born in the summer of his 27th year; coming home to a place he’d never been before.”
Now, just thinking back to that time in 1968, and the way it was then. Well said, John Denver.