Happy 150th birthday, Colorado.
What kind of a gift can you get for a state that seemingly has it all? Movie-star good looks. A frontier spirit. Bountiful resources. Nikola freaking Jokic.
How about a wish for 150 more? Our country, and the world, could use a little more Colorado. A little more optimism, a little more happiness and a little more rugged individualism.
For more than 150 years, the call of Colorado has been strong, and millions and millions of us have answered it. Even before statehood, this unsettled land of towering mountains and windswept plains was a beacon of sorts, a promise of something new, something better.
But as we celebrate this milestone, there鈥檚 more than a hint that Colorado鈥檚 luster has worn thin. Headlines warn that businesses are bolting or shuttering. Fewer people are moving to Colorado, according to the state鈥檚 demographer. Moving van companies suggest that in 2025, more people left Colorado than moved in.
Our state鈥檚 sesquicentennial gives us a chance to reflect on our past, to honor the giants who once roamed this land, but also to consider the moment we鈥檙e in, and to wonder, to dream, about what the next 150 years look like.
Each of us has our own Colorado story. How we got here. Why we stay.
Early settlers and Native Americans came here searching for food and clean water and better migratory and transportation routes. (Even back then, there was still no light rail to Boulder.)
Years later, it was the desire for riches of a different kind 鈥� gold and silver 鈥� that sent pioneers scrambling to the banks of the South Platte River and Ralston Creek and to places such as Gold Hill and Black Hawk.
Our boom times boomed because of searchers and explorers. The weak didn鈥檛 venture to Colorado. Men and women searching for more built our state on a foundation of hard work but also of dreams and aspirations.
The rugged individualism that we鈥檙e known for in the West was on full display 鈥� even before statehood. Ten years before Colorado became a state, voters in the territory rejected the newly written state constitution 3-to-1 because it included a pre-selected slate of candidates for state and national office. Talk about no kings! Even before statehood, Colorado was standing up for direct democracy.
As statehood dawned in 1876, this idea of Colorado as a beacon persisted. The state had already built its first 鈥渃onsumption hospital鈥� for the masses pouring into our state seeking the promise of clean, dry air that doctors back East were prescribing for tuberculosis.
In the summer of 1893, as a deep economic depression gripped the country, an English professor named Katherine Lee Bates ambled up to the top of Pikes Peak riding on a mule.聽Imagine what she saw that day. No observatory. No monument. Just an unspoiled view. Windswept plains. Awe-inspiring mountains.
Laid out before her was the never-ending promise of a place called Colorado.
An Easterner by birth, Bates had seen poverty tearing into America鈥檚 cities. But standing there, looking out across the plains that stretched before her, and the craggy peaks around her, she saw Colorado not only for its beauty, but for its promise as well.
When she returned to the old Antlers Hotel in Colorado Springs, she jotted this down in a notebook: 鈥淎ll the wonder of America seemed displayed there, with the sea-like expanse.鈥� She would then write a poem she called 鈥淧ikes Peak.鈥�
It was a dream about a future for our country, but it also was a love song to a place.
O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!
Dreamers continued to follow for decades, whether chasing a job or the rush of a downhill ski run, the calm of a campfire, or simply following the song of John Denver, and our young state really began to fill out its britches.
My family added to Colorado鈥檚 growth during that time, with my great-grandparents on both sides of my family coming here in the first two decades of the last century. Like many, they were seeking a better life. One of my maternal grandfathers found work as a 鈥渕ule skinner鈥� in the coal mines north of Denver, toiling in places such as the Standard Mine in Lafayette, the Cameron Mine in Frederick and the Russell Mine in Firestone. My grandma remembered living for a short time in a small miner鈥檚 shack with a dirt floor that her stepmother swept every day 鈥榯il the dirt became brick hard.
To a citizen of the 21st century, it may not seem much like a 鈥渂etter life.鈥� But while each generation had its struggles, with hard work and perseverance, our conditions changed for the better with each passing generation.
Our family has now called Colorado home for five generations. We鈥檝e watched skyscrapers grow in downtown Denver, mere feet from the Denargo Market where immigrants and farmers once sold their vegetables and fruit. We鈥檝e watched interstates go up and expand, and light rail arrive, and stadiums and arenas erected and torn down, only to be built again. We鈥檝e buried loved ones and baptized new ones.
We鈥檝e been able to build our lives here and raise children and grandchildren.
But what does the future hold?
Today, some 6 million of us call Colorado home. If you鈥檙e a newcomer, Colorado may seem downright roomy compared to Los Angeles and the 405. But if you鈥檝e been here for a while, the effects of 6 million are obvious.
Once quiet trails can be noisy and crowded. Restaurants that always had a table waiting for you now have crowds standing outside on Friday nights. The commute to work takes longer. (And even if you go off hours, the roadways and highways are still packed.) And what抖阴ap with everyone wearing Los Angeles Dodgers jerseys?
People have left Colorado, and fewer are coming, for various reasons. Cost of living is chief among them, especially as housing grows more unaffordable and unattainable. It doesn鈥檛 help that downtown still seems way too sketchy in certain areas and, for some, politics are way too one-sided.
The demographic shifts come with issues. Fewer people moving here means slower growth expectations in short-term and long-term economic forecasts. And while slower growth may sound like a breath of fresh air when you鈥檙e tired of sitting in Interstate 25 traffic, the only thing worse than a slow-growing economy is one that is dying.
Colorado is known for a younger, more vibrant populace, but it also has one of the fastest-aging populations. The number of people aged 65 and older is expected to over the next decade. Slower migration, coupled with an aging population, can mean rising costs in a state that抖阴ap already unaffordable.
I鈥檝e always been proud to be a Coloradan, and especially proud to be a Colorado native 鈥� almost annoying-鈥淣ATIVE鈥�-bumper-sticker-on-my-car proud. I went to Casa Bonita before it was cool. I can still smell Jolly Ranchers being made in Wheat Ridge. I drink Coors exclusively and consider John Elway family, even though I don鈥檛 know him personally.
But sometimes even I wonder what else might be out there.
Will my daughters be able to grow roots here, find meaningful work or build a business and raise a family?
Will they want to?
As we celebrate our 150th birthday and our great nation鈥檚 250th birthday, our 鈥渟ystem,鈥� our politics and our culture can feel broken. Not everyone is in the mood to celebrate. I鈥檓 old enough to remember the nation鈥檚 bicentennial celebration, and even though I was a kid, the celebration felt different back then. It felt bigger, bolder, more unified.
But it抖阴ap important to remember that while we鈥檙e living through some difficult times now, and the pace of change is frenetic, we鈥檝e been through tough times before. And Colorado is not immune.
It may seem to outsiders that Colorado is one big Warren Miller ski film or some Mountain Dew commercial with beautiful, young people splashing around in a lake. But our past, at times, was complicated and problematic. The Sand Creek massacre. The Ku Klux Klan. Columbine and mass shootings.
But we have always persevered.
We get blessed, from time to time, by true leaders who stand up and do what抖阴ap best for our state, politics be damned.
During World War II, unlike other governors across the country, Colorado Gov. Ralph Carr put his political career on the line by welcoming Japanese Americans into Colorado. 鈥淚f you harm them,鈥� he said, 鈥測ou must first harm me.鈥�
His stance likely cost him his job, but Colorado, and our nation, were better for his confident, moral leadership. He was one of those giants who once roamed our land.
Too often today, policy decisions impacting real people are made for political reasons. Profiles in courage seem fewer and farther between. But you can still find courage and compassion in Colorado every day if you look in the right places. Soup kitchens on cold nights. The evacuation area during a wildfire. Neighbors helping neighbors.
In our next 150 years, we must continue to lure dreamers and explorers here. (Heck, maybe tech bros mining for bitcoin are the new pioneers?) A pioneering spirit and political courage will be needed to handle the hurdles that are coming our way with generative AI, a changing workforce, a changing climate and a broken political system.
Our history is deep, rich and diverse, and it has been well-documented, from the carvings by ancient Puebloans on the buff-colored rocks of Mesa Verde to the colorful, lively murals of Welton Street that run through Denver鈥檚 Five Points.
But our future is unwritten, and it抖阴ap in the hands of the young and the brave. It抖阴ap in the hands of those who stay, and those who are lured here by the promise of Colorado. God shed his grace on thee.
Dan Haley is a Colorado native who lives in Arvada with his family. He previously worked at The Denver Post for 13 years in various roles, including as editorial page editor. He now serves as executive director of Coloradans for Responsible Energy Development.聽
