Crested Butte’s lively elders challenge time’s winged chariot.
Last year, when a friend asked me to help with a luncheon at the Depot for Crested Butte’s nascent senior center, I figured sure, I’d do something for the old people, whoever they were. But, wait…those were my friends and peers hopping off their bikes outside the Depot, some looking as startled as I was to be considered “senior.” Yes, we’d racked up some birthdays — 60, 70, 80-plus — but those numbers were so far removed from our self-perceived ages that they seemed like some sort of cosmic clerical error.
For me, “senior center” conjured the vision of a rec room with geriatrics playing checkers. But not so in Crested Butte. Our senior center, so far, is less a physical location (though Oh Be Joyful Church has become a generous host) than a dynamic. group committed to serving and connecting Crested Butte’s vintage set. That’s more likely to involve hiking boots than checkers.
We aren’t used to being elders, and Crested Butte isn’t used to having elders. Now an estimated 30% of people living in the Crested Butte area are 60 or older, but this is the first large aging cohort here since the mining-era oldtimers died or moved away decades ago. Crested Butte, after all, was originally a mining town, and when the mines closed by the 1950s, most of its working-age residents relocated elsewhere to find jobs. Starting in the 1960s, the new ski area began drawing young urban refugees in their tie-dyes and halter tops, who found a dirt-street town mostly abandoned except for its elders.
“It was just us — in our twenties — and the oldtimers, who were like our adopted grandparents,” said still-sassy Corky Lucks, who arrived in 1979. “How surprising that now we’re the old ones!”
A different breed
“Old” might fit the chronological age but surely not the vibe among the lively people who gathered for last summer’s inaugural senior events.
“We’re a whole different breed of elders,” said senior center president Glo Cunningham, bustling about in a characteristic flowing purple dress, dangly earrings, and brimmed straw hat. She pointed out the overcrowded bike rack outside the senior luncheon. “We’ve been active for decades, and we won’t stop now. We have to fit in our board meetings around people off sailing or biking in Italy for three weeks.”
Since moving to Crested Butte in 1975, Glo has been a softball champ, telemark ski racer, waitress/job juggler, prolific wedding officiant, museum director, and shaper of more nonprofits than anyone can remember. Deep into her seventies, she’s still active, bold, and curious.
Many people who have moved to this snowy, remote mountain town have self- selected for those traits, whether they arrived here as ski bums or retirees. Active, bold, curious — traits that happen to be helpful in aging as well.
“Our friends back in St. Louis started getting old ten years ago, because they stopped moving,” said Donna Walker. “I’m too busy to get old.” Donna, 70, draws on her long hospitality career to prepare floral centerpieces and sometimes food for senior center luncheons. She also brings the culinary and decorating pizzazz to some of the valley’s notable nonprofit events, maintains a lavish garden, skis, fishes, and entertains her many grandkids.
Donna got involved with the senior center partly to bring color and sparkle to people’s lives. The center, she said, gives people regular events to look forward to, and will connect people, whether they want ski buddies, conversation, or help with the trials that aging can bring. “In Crested Butte, 70 is the new 50, but 80 is still 80. When people get hurt or have struggles, we need to keep an eye on them. Most of us don’t live near our families, so we need to be each other’s family.” The center will also raise awareness around town, “and help build a community that respects and cares for its elders,” she said.
Aging in Crested Butte: the good, the bad, the slippery
At 80, senior center board member Jerry Deverell counts himself lucky to have his original knees and hips — and to put them to good use every day. “You keep doing what you like to do, even if it’s not as far or as fast. You can mountain bike without riding to Aspen — or doing all the crazy stuff we used to do.”
Most mornings just after 6 a.m., Jerry strolls outside to “snoop around” the sleeping town and greet the early dog- walkers. Later, he’ll do tai chi, maybe ski or bike on the mountain, or classic ski for miles on the Nordic trails around town. Often, he’ll stop and talk with fellow venerable skiers like Kevin Beltz, Denis Hall, or Clark Nelson. “They’re all good skiers, and they’re all good talkers,” he said.
Jerry, who ran Crested Butte’s parks and rec department and waited tables at Le Bosquet for decades, knows people across the age spectrum. When his visiting nephew Matt walks around town with him, Matt tallies the impressive number of “Hi Jerrys” they collect.
“Why would I ever want to leave this place?” Jerry asked, though he’s concerned that rising property taxes and living expenses could eventually “break the bank” and force him to move.
Not every Crested Butte elder carries birthdays as lightly as Jerry. Yes, community and lifestyle can enrich the aging experience in Crested Butte; but high prices, snow and ice, thin air, and distance from advanced medical resources can make it harder. Our high-mileage bodies are often beat up, perhaps with replacement parts. As we get longer of tooth, we can get weaker of eyes and ears as well. We might lose spouses, children, and dear friends. As the snow piles up outside, it can get ever easier for us to stay home, alone.
“Huge kudos to Beth Carter for seeing the need and getting the ball rolling on the senior center,” Glo said. Beth was delivering food for the food pantry and realized how isolated people can be. “There are a lot more lonely people here than we think.”
The senior center comes alive
This year, the senior center’s new board secured 501(c)3 status, got insurance, and began rolling out events: luncheons, hikes, art sessions, mahjong, and classes related to technology, health, and local history. The board hopes to compile resource lists – from snow shovelers to caregiving help. Board member MJ Vosburg’s pet project is working toward age-appropriate housing, perhaps as part of some pending developments, so valued long-time community members won’t have to move away when they can no longer maintain homes in this harsh environment.
“We’re still in our infancy,” MJ said. “It’s going to take shape organically.”
Glo has taken pages of notes on ideas for the senior center. Could the Town provide a designated space for seniors to gather? What other services do people need to be able to “age in community”? “I’m thrilled with it so far,” Glo said, “and there are so many directions we can go from here.”
Board member Stan Weil, 80, said the popularity of senior center events shows how much it’s needed. “We’re really just starting to get the word out,” he said, and already the luncheons often draw more than 50 people. “Initially, people don’t want to come to something associated with being ‘old.’ Then they show up and realize these gatherings are really fun.”
Stan and his wife Janet moved here a decade ago to be near two of their children and their grandchildren. Stan retired from a corporate sales career in New York but has “done a lousy job of staying retired.” In Crested Butte, he worked as executive director of the Mountain Theatre, then began teaching at Western Colorado University. After Janet’s death to cancer, he found great support from the community and eagerly stepped in to help with the senior center.
“Coming from the business world, I’d like to help this organization get its financial footing,” he said. Now it’s a shoestring situation, but Stan foresees the senior center eventually receiving grants and larger donations, gaining a permanent home, and “becoming a well-known and important nonprofit in a town full of nonprofits.”
Through Western, Stan got to know fellow teacher Tom Miller, who attends and works for Oh Be Joyful Church. Tom arranged for the church to provide space for senior center events, free of charge. “It’s part of us networking into and being of service to our larger community,” Tom said. “And I like getting to know these fascinating people.”
Social connection and super-aging
Research shows that social connection is a top commonality among so-called “super-agers.” As the senior center takes shape, that will be central to its mission. “It’s easy for people to hang out with their long-time friends,” Stan noted, “but we also need to make sure we’re inclusive and everyone feels comfortable.”
Sue Navy wonders if the senior center could extend that social connection to younger Buttians as well. When she moved to the still-rough town in 1969, the oldtimers showed her and other new arrivals how to chop wood, fish, find wild mushrooms, and care for the land and people.
“They taught us how to live in Crested Butte. I feel like a descendant of theirs,” Sue said. “Now, how do we teach the younger people how to take care of this place? It’s on us to inspire them.”
Corky added, with a laugh, “We need to teach the young’uns how to make jam out of the rhubarb growing in the alleys. Otherwise, when we’re gone, town’s going to be overrun with wild rhubarb!” A long- time part of the Flauschink end-of-winter celebration, Corky particularly loves seeing newbies learning to polka.
At a recent senior gathering, I scanned the room of engaged, chatting people. The hand of time has slapped us with wrinkles and bulges, and it has dealt us deeper injuries and losses. Aging is a worthy challenge. But in this room, I see people who fought global corporations to prevent mining on Mt. Emmons; helped invent the sport of mountain biking; brought back our middle school and then our high school; and built the nonprofits that have helped make Crested Butte what it is. This is a spirited, independent crew, not always cohesive. But when adversity has loomed, they have pulled together.
They’re doing that now, in ways big and small, as time’s winged chariot bumps and bruises our graying tribe. Glo and husband Scott Wimmer arrived home from his open- heart surgery and her post-cancer surgery to find their refrigerator packed with food. Barbara Mason and Leslie Locklear, drivers for Mountain Express Senior Transportation, take care of their neighbors beyond just shuttling them to appointments and errands; Leslie recently stopped by her own house to grab some items for a passenger. Hundreds of people showed up over the last year to stand beside Candy Shepard, Kay Peterson Cook, and Barbara Mason after each lost her husband.
Corky commented, “We don’t know how to be old. We’ve never done it before.” If anyone is equal to the challenge, it’s this cohort.