Last year, I spent close to five months living in an extended stay hotel near a big teaching hospital in Aurora, Colorado.
This was my third such stay in three years, adding up to over 10 months in the area while my wife was hospitalized.
This duration helped me distinguish a troubling pattern from mere exceptions.
A sign welcoming visitors to Aurora reads, “Welcome to Aurora, America’s city.”
At first, it struck me as ironic, but by the time I left, it felt more like an indictment of the situation.
Daily life in that area felt unnecessarily tense.
Grocery store lines were long, with self-checkouts completely dark. Manned lanes were closed, allegedly due to staffing shortages in a store belonging to one of the largest grocery chains in the nation.
So, resources weren’t the problem. The priorities were just misplaced:
Basic items like detergent, deodorant, and toothpaste were locked behind glass. I had to seek out a manager to access them.
Two armed police officers were stationed nearby the checkout area.
When I reached into my bag, I was reminded that Colorado charges for shopping bags. Sure, I was prepared to pay, but there were none available. I stood there, groceries in hand, unable to carry them, just a little embarrassed as I searched for an employee to help.
If charging for bags is necessary, they should at least be available.
I speak Spanish pretty well, and even tried asking for a bag in multiple languages, but it didn’t speed things up.
Carts were strewn across the parking lot. Trash collected on the curbs, and people in need approached cars at the entrance, prompting customers to hurriedly avert their eyes.
The hotel where I stayed was part of a national chain, complete with key card access and standard corporate protocols. The staff, decent and hardworking, weren’t there to enforce the law. Yet, I saw them ask guests to leave the buffet breakfast without any fear of repercussions.
When overt actions occur, it implies a belief that no one will intervene.
As I walked to the hospital, I passed many individuals sprawled on sidewalks, drug paraphernalia near bus stops, and people shouting into the void. During my time there, I heard more gunshots than I typically would during hunting season back home in Montana.
After living somewhere for ten months, it’s hard not to feel the community’s pulse. It felt like a place with low expectations.
Standards don’t simply collapse overnight; they erode when enough people view them as optional. When did we come to accept that this is the normal state for American cities?
If Aurora represents an “American city,” we seem to have lost a common understanding of what that means.
Years ago, my wife and I began an advocacy project for prosthetic limbs in Ghana. I’ve seen clinics in that country operate with more clarity and cleanliness than what existed around one of America’s top teaching hospitals.
This isn’t a slight against Ghana; it serves as a warning for us.
Compassion and order can coexist.
We can demand standards while caring for those who are vulnerable. In fact, we should. Compassion without any structure leads to chaos, and chaos ultimately harms those it aims to protect.
The role of government is to safeguard life and property. That’s a basic principle, not tied to any political agenda.
The usual response to visible problems seems to be more funding. But public servants don’t wield their own finances. They manage resources that the public provides—resources given with the expectation of order in return. When budgets increase but outcomes decline, it’s not merely a financial issue; it’s about management.
For over four decades, I’ve worked with surgeons, pain specialists, and hospital systems advocating for those unable to receive decent care. In that environment, standards become measurable rather than just aspirational.
I place no trust in what I haven’t researched. When professionals understand that their work is appreciated, results improve. Weak oversight leads to poor outcomes.
When an area earns a reputation for disorder, the mystery isn’t typically the criminals; it’s the silent complicity of those responsible for enforcing the law. Those in power must also be held accountable.
Advocacy isn’t always glamorous or easy. It often feels repetitive and demanding, but if advocates retract, small oversights accumulate and the vulnerable face even greater challenges.
A healthy society requires vigilance from its citizens.
Unregulated borders encourage illegal crossings, unenforced laws nurture illicit acts, and lax standards invite mediocrity—and often worse.
This isn’t difficult to grasp. It just takes resolve.
As I walked past the police officers while managing to finally buy my bags, I stated plainly, “We don’t have to live like this.”
They shrugged. There was no debate.
Once, a deserter was judged by Alexander the Great. When asked for his name, the soldier said, “Alexander.”
The general paused and declared, “Either change your behavior or change your name.”
Names symbolize standards; the same holds true for cities.
If a city says it’s an “American city,” its actions should align accordingly.
We ought to expect more from ourselves, our communities, our elected representatives, and our judicial system.
America isn’t a land of the voiceless. When standards slip, many of us relinquish our oversight and responsibilities.
If citizens start ignoring the disturbances, they risk becoming permanent.
The first step toward resolution is to reject the notion that dysfunction is normal.
No extra fees necessary; just sheer determination.
We simply don’t have to live this way.
