My Second Choice
I’ve lived in Newport News, Virginia, since I was twenty-two years old. I came here from the cool mountains of southwest Virginia, where “hot” meant you broke a light sweat and thought about lemonade. In Newport News, summer heat is a full-time job. June, July, and August can push into the high nineties, and the humidity often hangs in the mid‑70 percent range, so stepping outside feels less like going for a walk and more like climbing into a warm, damp blanket. After seven years, I finally stopped complaining out loud and just sweated in silence.
If I could pick another place to live, I’d choose Colorado Springs, Colorado. I was stationed there in my early twenties, and it felt like a little piece of magic tucked up against the Rockies. The people were friendly, and the weather was a revelation—warm summer days with practically no humidity. You could breathe in July without needing a snorkel. Winters could get very cold, but because the air was so dry, it never felt like the cold reached all the way into your bones the way it sometimes does here.
I ended my Air Force career in Colorado Springs because I wanted to move my family back to my roots in southwest Virginia and be near relatives. That grand plan didn’t quite work out as I’d imagined, which is how I ended up in Newport News, building my life here. Newport News wasn’t chosen after a long romantic search; it was chosen because this is where I found work to support my family. Sometimes life doesn’t ask for your opinion—it just taps you on the shoulder and hands you a timecard.
If I had my pick now, I’d live in a suburb of Colorado Springs, in a little town called Manitou Springs, nestled at the base of Pikes Peak. It has a charming, slightly quirky feel, and it’s home to the famous “Garden of the Gods,” where towering red rock formations make you feel like you’ve stepped onto another planet. The Rocky Mountains are only a short drive away. Denver is a quick run up I-25—about seventy minutes if you behave yourself—and the Royal Gorge Park is about the same distance in the other direction, which makes day trips dangerously easy to justify.
My main reason for choosing Manitou Springs as my “second‑choice hometown” is the pace of life. When I lived there, everything felt slower and gentler than what I experience now. Crime was practically unheard of, and people treated each other with an easy kindness and respect that made everyday life feel safer and more human. Of course, that was about sixty-five years ago. I went back for a visit thirty-five years ago and was delighted to see that it still felt much the same—familiar streets, friendly faces, and that same relaxed atmosphere. Things may have changed since then, as they do everywhere, but I like to think that if I get another round at this life, I’ll find my way back to Manitou Springs. In my imagination, at least, that little town at the foot of Pikes Peak is still waiting for me.
