Every day, I get up before dawn to take my dog, Riley, out for his morning constitutional. For some reason, Park City is the one place where I’m not afraid walking by myself in the dark. Maybe it’s the comforting glow of the 7-Eleven. Maybe it’s the birds chirping in the trees. But on this one morning, something felt different. Riley, the king of morning poop location scouting, was in his usual nose-to-the-ground position in front of his favorite spot, a huge home I assume belongs to someone who owns two or three others. At this time of year, it’s usually dark and empty. And that’s when I noticed the lights wildly flickering inside, like some kind of ghostly rave. Then I heard it. A strange tinkling sound from across the street. I stopped. For a second, I felt that small, irrational rush of fear. Then I saw it. Just a flag whipping against a pole. Still, I turned and walked a little faster back toward my place. Cutting through the side of the building, I noticed something catching the streetlight. Something shiny. It was a woman’s handbag, just lying there on the ground. Zipped up but obviously full. Like something left behind in a hurry. I brought it in the house to see if there was any way to identify the owner. Inside: a Taco Bell card, a Costco card, a Fresh Market receipt for iceberg lettuce, hamburger buns, organic ketchup, ground beef. Some wadded-up tissues. A college ID from a school in Mexico. I got excited when I found a few slips from checking in to a job as a food expeditor, but no restaurant was listed. The contents felt less like lost items and more like artifacts. Like an archeological dig into a single, unfinished life. I thought about turning the purse over to the police. But then I wondered if whoever owned it would even feel comfortable going to the authorities. So, instead, I listed it on KPCW’s Lost Found. And then … nothing. That’s when I started to feel like the whole town was missing something. This year’s shoulder season feels like more of a ghost town than ever, especially since Park City Mountain and Deer Valley closed prematurely. The second-home owners are mostly gone. It’s too warm to ski and too cold to mountain bike. Of course, there’s still the sprinkling of bachelorette parties and families on vacation, but Main Street, for the most part, is empty. Oh sure, there are still signs of life in town. Park City knows how to make the best of the off-season. “The Follies” are underway. My favorite coffee shop is bustling with locals working on laptops and sipping matcha lattes. I just started a fun side hustle working at a boutique on Main. Which got me thinking: What is a ghost town, really? Is it a place with no people, action or purpose? Or maybe it’s just a place where life used to be a little louder, flashier, faster. Right now, and every shoulder season, we get to experience a temporary version of living in one. But there are those who choose to live in emptiness 24/7. Like entrepreneur Brent Underwood. He bought the California ghost town of Cerro Gordo in 2020. Six years later, he’s still living in the former mining boomtown and runs a YouTube channel documenting his attempts to painstakingly restore it, piece by piece. One of my favorite scenes is Brent unveiling a dusty leather valise someone left behind. Inside: a letter to a lover, a divorce decree, some uncashed checks. The contents of a whole life, just left behind. Kind of like the purse I found. It wasn’t empty. It was full of receipts, work slips, a life in motion. The only thing missing was the person it belonged to. Kind of like our town right now. The lines are gone. You can get a spot at the bar at Pine Cone Ridge. The faces of people you see in The Market or at the post office start to look familiar. There’s space on the sidewalks. You can find a parking spot on the street. It’s not so much a ghost town as it is a town waiting to exhale — a quieter version. One where you can hear a flag rustling in the wind or notice the flickering lights in a neighbor’s house. One that’s worth staying for. And on the off chance this story finds its way to the right person: If you or someone you know lost a purse in town recently, I’d love to get it back to you. Reach out to me at [email protected]. The post Betty Diaries: Living in a ghost town appeared first on Park Record. ...read more read less