©Shers Gallagher 2015
...as a teen on the lam, mostly running away from myself, personal addictions and questions with a sinking feeling that there were no answers to any of them, not simple ones, anyway. As I sunk further into the hedonistic scene of living a non-mainstream life, I continued questioning, creating, inventing alongside others of similar mind, many eventually giving up and dying. Throughout the muck and mire of daily living on the edge juxtaposed against the incredible beauty of the Flat Irons, and Boulder in general, my very existence raised the question of God. I could not escape it. This was the Boulder I knew back then with conservatism running through its core, a soberness observed in the faces of its mountain folk – the ranchers, farmers and old miners who had eked out a living and were the community’s cornerstones. Yet, alongside this was a topsoil of challenging liberalism fomented by a university gaining a Haight Ashbury-like reputation, which placed the town into unrest midst its growing pains.
These days I see more clearly that being is beyond answers to questions, as it takes a certain humility of spirit to have faith in what can’t be seen or measured into existence that transgresses the daily doggity-dog world we live, struggle and find our personal pleasures in. I don't know if living in Boulder during some of my most impressionable years has shaped and moulded me into the individual I am today, but I have a hunch that it did because its memories have impacted my life in ways that verge on the magical and miraculous. Having got all this off my chest, I’m saddened to see images I held dear morph into something more commercially aloof and somewhat less inviting. Yet, I will always treasure the memory of our pretty little Boulder, the sleepy college town I once knew and loved and lived in.
And check out 'Boulder Blues: A Tale of The Colorado Counterculture'