When people ask about the city streets of Lamar, Colorado, they’re usually not talking about the boardwalk that we used to roll up and put to bed by 9 P.M. But then, again, some of them might have asked about those city streets.
Not so long ago, my phone rang and a gentleman asked if I lived in Lamar, Colorado. I had to answer yes, because at the time, I lived in Lamar. He mentioned a name I wasn’t familiar with and said he’d stayed in the Lamar Hotel when he came through town with his family many years ago, on the junction of Hwy 287 and Hwy 50. I was familiar with the Lamar Hotel, or at least the hotel standing on that particular corner of Lamar.
After chatting for a bit about a time about two years prior to my birth, he asked about the Petrified Wood building on north main and mentioned having a soda there while his parents filled their Packard with gas. Then he asked about the old bridge north of Lamar and mentioned that he’d been through there just after the flood of 1965, and wondered if they saved the bridge or not. I told him that as I remembered, only half of the bridge gave out and it had been repaired, but I also told him I was a little girl at the time and didn’t really remember what happened.
When he shared that his mother had passed away and they’d found her many photos of their trips through Lamar, I agreed to meet with him to identify the photos. His trip to Lamar coincided with another event, and I was able to show him around the community. The identified photos and his visit to Lamar left him with an interest in traveling the route his parents had traveled during those many years, while he grew up. He stopped at various communities along the path, from Wichita, Kansas to Boulder, Colorado, learning more and more about the drive his parents had taken.
When I heard from him again a few days ago, he said he was getting ready to make this trip again, from Wichita to Boulder, and asked if I’d be available when he came through Lamar. I expressed my sorrow and told him that I’ve moved to Denver, and would love to meet with him when he arrived here.
The box of photos he had with him when he arrived was larger than most milk crates. We reviewed most of them, sorting out the ones I recognized from various towns along the way, and leaving stacks of them unrecognized. Most were labeled with acid free pencils by the time we got done, and some had specific places and business names.
His darling patient wife offered to put them all in photo albums before they come back through the next time, so we can see them grouped by communities without taking up three restaurant tables. The waitress assured her it was not a problem and graciously accepted her tip. But, still the same, I wondered how many customers scatter photos over three huge tables and pick through them for the majority of the afternoon? 
These photos, taken by me within the past two years helped us identify his photos of Lamar. The crisp white pillars supporting the current downtown Lamar motel weren’t there many years ago and the store fronts looked quite different.
But I noticed one thing looked about the same… There were no boardwalks for anyone to roll up, even in the 40′s and 50′s. In fact, many of the photos, particularly those of side streets, lacked sidewalks. People walked on the street or they didn’t walk at all.
Anybody want to walk down Main Street now, along side the traffic? Could be an interesting jaunt!