Montana is Not Mine (An essay)
Somewhere in Montana Montana is not mine. Sometimes, I worry that I am the only one who suffers from this delusion, but I doubt it. I am not the only Montanan who uses bumper stickers and t-shirts, flags and rhetoric to proclaim my pride for this state. I am not the only one who tries to wish away the eyes of the world and the natural desires of humans to pursue and claim what is deemed to be valuable. I am not the only one who wishes that the internet couldn’t capture the images of the landscape, or who wishes that the interstates did not import more competitors in the race to claim every last inch of paradise. I hoped that I would be the last one through the gates before this place was frozen in time. In some ways, I think we all hoped for this miracle. The Eagles, in their Hotel California album, voiced the uncomfortable truth that “if you call someplace Paradise, you can kiss it goodbye.” They were using California in their example, but numerous other locations have popped into