September 2nd, 2012
|Made of Fluff|
Wendover is such a bizarre place. It is intriguing, but gloomy. Why do we settle in such barren places -- places where living sustainably is nearly impossible? Why do we attempt to manifest the American Dream in even the most far flung, puzzling places? This idea of a reproducible lifestyle based solely on merit of economy doesn't make sense to me.
Wendover, stuck out on the edge of the salt flats, pumping water from far away, having issues with establishing infrastructure, is still struggling. It seems so stubborn to pronounce that it does exist. It does! It really is a beautiful place -- the salt flats are so still, so vast, that they open up the mind and heart. And yet, the impetus for settling here was the railroad originally, and later on, the military base during WWII.
Today, the population is largely Hispanic (nearing 80%), and this population essentially fuels the labor force for the casinos on the Nevada side of Wendover. People coming to visit here generally only see the inside of the casinos. For the people who live and work here, this seems to be largely true as well. The town crowds in around main street, turning its back on the beauty around it, seemingly trying to shut it out.
And so yes, Wendover does indeed exist. But why? And why do we so stubbornly exist in a fashion so contradictory to nature?