The 15th of May marks the 15th anniversary of my living in Bozeman, Montana. I arrived from Seattle, my little green Rav4 loaded down with trash bags full of clothes and a couple of cats (a brother and sister who despised one another and who also insisted on riding out of their cat carrier, dangerously un-medicated, and hissing at each other as we crossed the Continental Divide). I had planned on “staying for the summer” back in May of 2000. I loved Seattle-- to visit, and still do, but I had grown lonely living there, (or, in any city, really) never having made close friends and feeling uncertain about where my life was heading. So, I came back to Montana, eager to live closer to my family—and, subconsciously, eager to have my own.

I needed to figure out what to do with my life: e.g. get a “real” job and move to wherever that job would take me—after a fun summer in Bozo, that is. I was nearly 31 years old and felt like I had been on the road, drifting from one town to the next, for the better part of my 20s, in a haphazard search for contentment, purpose…and identity. I wanted to remember the zest for life I experienced as a child because after graduating from college, I kept seeking external security and a place to call “home.” Incidentally, I was sober (more like dry) when I moved back to town; I didn’t stay that way for very long, however.  

While I had been frittering around in the mid-to-late 90s, Bozeman had changed. No longer was it a college cow-town, or a tourist town in summer or a ski bum destination in winter. It retained elements of all these identities yet the town had…matured. Now, apparently, I needed to do the same. I got sober (for real, in my heart of hearts, this time) and moved twice in one year with two little kids in tow. Honestly, it was profoundly stressful and I seriously considered moving back down South where I was born and lived until I was eight, but, despite the longing for the sea and chronic wanderlust, the mountains won out. Fast-forward eight years; I tentatively mention moving to Alabama or Florida to my sons. They both looked at me incredulously- and the older one asked: “Why would we ever want to leave Bozeman, Mom?”

That got me thinking, so this is my reply and today’s “gratitude list” and a confession of sorts-- all rolled into one column…and, it seems to me, that wherever one lives, that should be their “soul’s home.” The dilemma is—sometimes, we let our heads dictate and don’t listen to our hearts. We end up drifting--dissatisfied and longing for a place where we know we belong—where we fit in. I have lived on ranches in rural areas and in major cities (and, on all three coasts) believing the grass is greener somewhere else—chronically restless and (embarrassingly) discontent. Today, however, I am truly grateful to call Bozeman home.

We live on the east side of town. A part of me must like living a little closer to Livingston (where I grew up) and I like the proximity to I-90 (hearing semis wail and screech and the melancholy whistle of a train in the middle of the night is soothing somehow). It’s also wonderful having “Big Mike” at the Museum of the Rockies as a neighbor and being able to hear the stadium announcers do play-by-plays and the MSU band boom at all of the home football games.   
I adore all of the abundant trails around town with their signs reminding mountain bike cyclists to “Slow down now, dude!” This is so Bozeman: the “Main Street to the Mountains” trail route, the cautionary, er…helpful signs, and, perhaps most Bozeman-esque of all: the faithful use of  the word ‘dude’.
Bumper stickers are very popular in American culture, in general; this is evident around town, too, i.e. “Did you Move Here to Be in a Hurry?” The latest one spotted reads “Only in Bozeman” which competes with college rival Missoula’s “Keep Missoula Weird.”  I just sat behind a Subaru Outback (unofficial car of county # 6) with a Keep It Wild! Sticker on its window. That is “So Bozo!” (exclamation point mine, for emphasis).

Driving around Bozeman, one starts to notice what sets apart this quintessential BoBo (Bohemian Bourgeoisie) town. Inside city limits, one sees art laden electric boxes on sidewalks and near trails. I imagine exciting circuit wizardry crackling within them but they once appeared drab on the outside, painted in a blah-industrial shade of gray. Recently, I saw some Japanese visitors snapping pictures of the one on North 19th near a convenience store. It’s the power box that has bike-riding bears on it. My favorite happens to be the Abby McMillen-designed work of art featuring her distinctive looking dogs. Another bonus to living here: it is a town that digs dogs. How much? Well, no less than Dog Fancy magazine listed Bozeman as the #2 (ok, that’s an unfortunate coincidence) best town for dogs. Many ponds, parks and trails are dog-friendly and the county’s animal shelter, “Heart of the Valley,” is a dazzling, state of the art facility. Even the nice bank tellers give doggies a biscuit at the drive-thru.. and, every summer, for one night, the city pool at Bogert goes to the dogs. The cats are over it, frankly..so, moving on…    

Art is ubiquitous and celebrated in Bozeman: the city showcases:  world-class visual art in several top notch galleries, a brilliant symphony, a flourishing ballet scene and talented writers, poets, and musicians of every stripe also call it home. Additionally, local theatre productions delight audiences every season and have launched international acts like the Broad Comedy troupe. Bozeman positively abounds with creativity on every block. I recently walked near campus and smiled at a stop sign. Someone had knitted a gorgeous scarf featuring plum-colored roses and wrapped it tenderly around its stand. The stop sign managed to look both cozy and chic. A half-block away and a fence made from dozens of bright downhill skis encloses a backyard chicken coop.

One of the radio stations chimes “Boze-man’s Beaut-i-ful” as their station motto. Admittedly, it used to grate on my nerves. It sounded mug and fake. I feared the town might be getting a little too big—or, too cool for its britches. Had Bozeman teetered into the land of too trendy with its Outside magazine top town list-making and frequent celebrity sightings?



But now, when I hear the familiar “Boze-man’s Beaut-i-fulllll!”I think two things. One: the singers sound wildy, giddily caffeinated and…Two: they’re right. It can almost be jarringly surreal—barns emerge in fog, short-lived but breath-taking rainbows tumble out of the sky, snow-capped mountains gleam in the distance, emerald colored fields stretch for miles…An elk herd groggily awakens in a snowy field. It is all heart-breakingly (or opening) beautiful. I opt for heart-opening reminders for appreciation. I thanked the elk for letting me admire them and take their picture. They seemed slightly bemused by this pajama-wearing, human not wearing any socks who wouldn’t stop trilling hello to them.

Many towns boast enchanting scenery and have Farmer’s Markets and fabulous restaurants, groovy independent bookstores and vital film festivals. What makes Bozeman truly “beautiful” to me after 15 years of living here are the people. Montanans are a friendly lot, and tend to have a dry sense of humor, and Bozeman, though increasingly “hip” hasn’t lost its small town courtesies or capacity for generosity. Residents from around the county pitch in, monetarily, and time-wise on hundreds of non-profits’ events a year. People turn up to clean up trails or they might run a 5K which fund important organizations like the Gallatin County Food Bank, REACH and HAVEN. Some folks wake up early to plow Hyalite or Sourdough Trail so others can enjoy cross-country skiing during the winter.

Bozemanites like to help their neighbors and they like to laugh (thankfully, most of all, at themselves). They value education (e.g. a local “Ted Talks” just wrapped up its fourth consecutive year)) and the arts (we have an outstanding Opera here, too), the environment and, most of all, one another. People still wave when passing on two lane roads right outside town. Ok, maybe not every time—but enough of the time . Actually, the independent gem of a college radio station, KGLT’s letters describe Bozeman best: it’s a Kind, Generous, and Lively Town. So, rest assured, dudes. We aren’t moving; in fact, we are crazy lucky to live here. Besides, the peonies are about to bloom and we’ll be able to take a dip with the ducks at Bozeman Beach soon.     

The End.