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• Creative Code Denver is having its next meetup tonight, June 15. And this has now passed. There’ll surely be another.
• Glint: Grip is going to be today, June 16. $10, or free for members and tellers. The lineup: Anjali, Fer, Civan, Laura, Jessica P., Lauren S., Madeleine A., Sophie, and Jim. This will also be the very last time Cuppa will ever be open for a Glint (more on that later).
• Every Wednesday forever (including this one, June 17) is Weekly Wednesday Worknight. $5, or free for members.
• In the Making is taking place on June 25. Interested in presenting work? Sign up using Whiteboard or shoot us an email letting us know.
• Mary Ann’s Book Club is reading Life After Cars for the next discussion on Monday, June 29.
• PowerPoint Party No. 40 is Saturday, July 4. $10, or free for members and presenters.
• Saturday, July 11 will be Cuppa’s final day of operation (the usual hours, 9am-2pm). Come and get one last cuppa.
• On Saturday, July 25, there will be special post-Cuppa-closure event where Beth will be selling many items (furniture, merch, and equipment) at a discounted price. Link to come.

Four days west of there, between plain and mountain, you will find the gleaming city of Denver, originally established around trickles of gold which were later found in greater supply at higher elevation.

Its industry quickly turned from mining toward the support of such, and the city found many other reasons for being as time went on and the veins ran dry.

Denver has changed greatly over the century and a half since its founding, and yet in so many ways it has remained exactly the same: it is a city of transplants seeking a better fortune.

It would be simplistic, however, to suggest that this is different than any other significant city in that vast country, itself largely a nation of transplants, even if some may forget. It would also be dangerous to wager any other uniquely identifying trait, for how would one decide? Is Denver defined by the people who traverse its trails in the early mornings? Is it the people who ride its public transit late at night? Those who gather in its parks, or its cultural institutions? Is Denver the people who find themselves most alive when they leave it behind to go into the mountains? Or is it those who prefer to spend their leisure time within it?

But all cities are many things because all cities are many people. And so instead of speak of Denver, I will speak of one small corner of it.

Like many cities in this day, Denver has at its center a dense cluster of tall buildings, and a patchwork of neighborhoods and parks spreading forth, dissolving into other cities and towns, before turning to plain or mountain.

Abutting the northwest edge of the city center, past the South Platte River and the Pan-American Freeway, sits the neighborhood of the Lower Highlands, offering panoramic views of the central skyline and interrupted views of the soaring mountains to the west, much further away than postcards admit.

At one corner of this neighborhood, at the very end of Fifteenth Street, at the intersection of one too many roads, sits a very old building that once was a church, before becoming the site of a disreputable predatory business operation, before housing a design studio and marketing agency, before becoming home to a group of people who know it as The Company.

From the doorway of The Company, looking out on a good day, when the smog and the smoke are away, and the sun is bright, one with good vision can look all the way down Fifteenth Street and make out the trees of Civic Center Park at the opposite end.

From the doorway of The Company, looking in on a good day, when the anxiety and fear are away, and the heart is open, one with good vision can see their friends—laughing, dancing, telling each other stories both real and imaginary, rearranging, crying, celebrating, and searching for forks.

There are some who inhabit the space during the day, mining away at modern pursuits, and some who come only for leisure. Some with strange hours pop in for a few minutes, neither to work nor be entertained, but simply to restock on hugs. There are others who are remembered more than they are seen—their traces found in the artworks, the crayon marks, the sticky notes, the chips of paint, the well-ordered equipment cart.

But what is this place?

It is a big room, with light on two sides. It is a community center. It is ‘the place with the PowerPoint Parties,’ because it is easier to explain it to your other friends that way. It is making up extra work to do, for the fun of it. It is an audience, a friendship, a trellis, the feeling of understanding an oblique reference. And as soon as you know one thing about it, it becomes another.

Ask ten people what The Company is and you will receive a hundred different answers. But ultimately The Company is less of a place than it is an idea, a kind of shared fiction for a fictive kinship. A having in common.

Ask those who frequents this place how they find living in Denver to be and they are likely to base some part of their answer instead on what it is like to spend time at The Company, or with the company of The Company. The Company is not The City, but it is one way to experience it.

In a similar way, one’s experience of The Company is itself a very individual matter. Much like the city, to some it is a way station and to others it is a destination. It is many things. It is nothing. It is everything.

Let us go further up and back, to the Denver City and County Building, at the other end of Fifteenth Street. There, in that building, on the second of July in nineteen eighty-three, a thirty-seven-year-old Chicano activist, civil rights lawyer, and state representative named Federico Peña took office as the city’s first Hispanic mayor. Over his two terms as mayor, Peña went on to elevate the city of Denver and shape the course of its future. His work led to the construction of the Denver International Airport and the Colorado Convention Center, the renovation of the Cherry Creek Shopping Center, the formation of the Colorado Rockies Major League Baseball team, and the preservation of historic lower downtown.

Denver did not become what it did because of any one person, and there are a legion of other figures in the city’s history whom one could turn over in an effort to understand how it persisted and transformed. But Peña and his office undoubtedly did much to make this city the particular kaleidoscope that it now is, and I find one thing instructive about his legacy as mayor, and that is how that legacy began:

Before work on any of those monumental efforts took place, before the plans were drafted, before the funding was secured, Peña campaigned under the modest yet bold slogan: Imagine a Great City.

And the people of Denver did. And the people of Denver still do. And so the city continues to become so. It is a mirage slowly becoming real, through perpetual construction of bike lines and transit corridors, but also through citizens advocating for change, neighbors creating public gardens on tree lawns, and people being good to each other. It a city continuing to rebuild and improve itself, making mistakes but inching toward progress.

And here I will answer my earlier question and say that Denver is the people who care about the future of Denver.

I will end my report of this city with one final observation:

A common belief, held among almost all who reside in it, is that the city experiences three hundred days of sunshine. From the earliest of days until now, this truth has been proclaimed, and this fact can be seen proudly painted along the storefronts of Sixteenth Street, the newly renovated pedestrian corridor in the center of the city.

But the three hundred days of sunshine is a lie. It was a line of marketing written by a publicist for one of the railroad companies in eighteen seventy.

Say that it is a myth to anyone in this city and they will protest. “But I spend a quarter of my income on sunscreen!” “But I can see the sun at this very moment!” “But it said so in the papers!” “But I moved here for the sunshine!” “But it is truly very sunny here, is it not?”

Eventually they will concede that they have not given much thought to what the claim implies—whether a partly cloudy day counts, or if an hour a day with not a single cloud will suffice—and you will eventually send them the article from the Denver Post. You will then both conclude that it feels sunnier here, and that that should count for something. You will then wonder if this claim attracts to this city those with a sunny disposition, or perhaps a sunny predisposition. And perhaps having such a hope colors our experience of this place. As if we are all wearing sunglasses, as one member of The Company once remarked.

To visit this city, more than others, is to ricochet across its surface. It does not take hold of you until you lose enough momentum to sink further in. Until you’ve spent a year, or two, or five. Long enough to convince yourself that it is in fact a sunnier city. That if it rains there are twice as many rainbows, and when it hails it’s over as quickly as it began. And that the company you find here, that it too is a bit better as well. To know this city is to imagine all of it as better than it is. As great as it will become.

—Iván

← May 31–June 6

Bureaucratic Minutiae

• Our new, very gorgeous, very functional rolling TV stand has finally arrived, and the TV has been mounted to it. It can now be easily rolled about. We haven’t figured out what to do about the stairs. Perhaps we’ll just never move it up or down them. If you are tempted to move it up or down them, note that you’ll need to hold onto the cart frame and not the TV, as the TV is sort of just loosely hung on the frame.
• We had a catastrophic WiFi outage that was resolved by swapping out a power supply. We suspect nothing will go wrong again. Thanks to Alex and Atniel for their help troubleshooting.
• A new Worknight checklist has been released, and four new stickies have been laminated.

• A little over a month ago, in advance of our two-year-anniversary party, the Company Cutlery Minister shared the following message in our internal messaging system:

  The Company is turning two on Friday, May 15 🥳

  At the beginning of this hopeful experiment, we didn’t have much, but we did have 8 forks (4 big, 4 small).

  We were happy. And perhaps too trusting.

  We now only have 3 forks (2 big, 1 small).

  The Company Cutlery Reserves stand on the verge of total collapse. We fear more forks, and perhaps even spoons or knives will go missing. Our projections show the outflow of takeout utensils will exceed the inflows. A friend of the Company who will remain nameless and who also happens to be a super competent Certified Public Accountant has confirmed the direness of our situation.

  Neither the Norton J. King Foundation nor the Ruiz-Knott Trust has agreed to a bailout. Requests to third party lines of credit have been rebuffed. The city government has promised to do exactly nothing, the county and state even less. Our prayers go unanswered. God has forsaken us.

  Needless to say, this fork shortage is an existential threat to this community we all love. Have you ever tried to eat a big salad with a little spoon? Divide a cake with a fork? Murder your best friend over the one spork no one has ever seen anyone use? It is no exaggeration to say that we could be as few as 12 weekday lunches away from barbarism.

  If you have one (or more (honestly, why?)) of our forks, hear this plea:

  Return them.

  Anonymously if you prefer. However you prefer. You could discreetly slip them into the drawer or sink, put them in an envelope and drop them into the mailbox at the foot of the stairs in the dead of night, bury them in a wooded area and draw us a treasure map. Please just return them.

  We guarantee amnesty.

  You will be asked no questions. We will demand no explanations.

  The authorities will not be contacted. There will be no retribution (pinky promise).

  Your identity will not be disclosed.

  We will forget this ever happened. When asked by the press, we will unequivocally deny that any fork thefts even took place.

  We will never speak, internally or externally, of your transgressions.

  Fork thieves, you hold the fate of the Company in your devious little hands. Please return them by the end of May.

  At your mercy,
  The Company Cutlery Minister

  Accompanying this message were the following images:

  

  

  All of us in Management were very hopeful that the above communication would lead to the successful retrieval of at least some of our forks, but the end of May came and went and not a single fork was returned to our possession.

  It is into this grave predicament that Patrick arrived, and, as he departed, played the part of a deus ex machina, his plot-altering effects detailed elsewhere in this issue.

• More information on how Denver isn’t 300-days sunny can be found in this 2021 Denver Post article by Andy Stein.

• Cuppa, our resident coffee cart, will be permanently closing in just a few weeks. Below is a lightly modified version of Beth’s message to membership:

  Hello my dear & darling Company community! I have some important news. ☕

  After just over a year of being open (over 2-years since I began building this concept) I’ve decided to close Cuppa.

  I’m extremely happy and proud of what I created, and the impact Cuppa has made on my life and this wonderful community! I'm sad to be letting it go, and excited for what my next phase of life will bring.

  Doing every single thing on your own for a small cafe (even with an incredibly supportive community that I’ve been SO LUCKY to find here at The Company) is extremely challenging. When I thought about the future—potentially scaling back like doing smaller pop-up events, or growing bigger into a full brick & mortar space—I decided rather than continuing down those paths, I could take a different one altogether. And suddenly I felt lighter.

  I’m so thrilled that I was able to recently celebrate Cuppa’s 1-year open with all of you. I truly think of this project as an incredible success, and I’m so proud of everything I’ve learned and all that I’ve accomplished with your support.

  This is what Cuppa was about—you. The community, the conversations, the connections I’ve made because of Cuppa. And that will always continue on. I’m extremely excited for what the next phase building community with you will be.

  A few logistics: Cuppa’s last day will be Saturday, July 11th (open usual hours, 9am-2pm). I will be selling many things at a special event post-closure on Saturday, July 25th, so please save the date for that. I’ll be letting go of a lot of furniture, discounted merch and equipment.

  I don't know what comes next. Maybe I discover an entirely new set of passions in this one tiny beautiful life I have. Whatever happens, I’m entering this next chapter with zero regrets, a ton of gratitude, and a community of friends that feed my heart and soul.

  Thank you for being part of Cuppa. 🐇☕🫖

  All my love,
  Beth

  All of us here at The Company are immensely grateful for Beth’s contributions to this place, and for her friendship, and are glad to know that we will continue to share her company.

• At Worknight, Ivan worked on 2 section drafts in the grandfather story; Lizzie went through unread emails, studied the timeline for the wedding, picked 3 recipes to make next week, and made a grocery list; Mary Ann readied the Ridwell recycling, read [redacted], and prepped questions for the attorney; Ryan wrote one more cover letter and drew 5-10 thumbnails; Alex playtested 5 matches; and Allyson edited photos and put them in folders. Writeup by Allyson
• We have added 2 new members to the Worknight-running rotation! Come by on a Worknight and you may be hosted by Livvy, Alex, or now, Allyson or Ryan.
• Finally, a reminder that The Company is a member-supported gathering place. If you’d like to pop in for a workday and you know one of us, reach out to schedule a time and we can let you in for free. If we don’t know you yet, reach out so we can get to know you, or come by an event and say hi.

Nostalgia

Do you remember the tricky WiFi outage with a simple solution? Patrick’s saintly donation of forks, and all the searching it prompted? The workday visit of Alex’s mom? The many games of Ricochet Robots? How outside it hailed and blew and rained? The final departure of Patrick, and your siren-filled ride to the airport?

Our lunchtime chat about childcare? The five-minute search for the final fork? Our recess walk admiring the bright flowers of the neighborhood cacti? How we ate from the black currant bush?

Or Jessica P.’s first recess? The stop at Little Man? Our reflections on the crane and the changing quality of buildings?

The Worknight training? Allyson’s shadowing? The Ricochet Robots tutorial? The small star?

And do you remember the wholly unnecessary, entirely unhelpful, but very hilarious AI-assisted lunchtime planning?

Our afternoon walk to Krāv? And the the brief surprise appearance of Lauren T., on a hug resupply before her next appointment?

The Friday that wasn’t Beth’s last Friday but could seem like it was if you got your months mixed up? And did you hear it when Halie said “Nobody will have seen me, but there will have been signs,” as she lowered the hot desk all the way down?

How that evening we gathered at Joe and Lauren S.’s place for his graduation party? How we ate their food and met their other friends and family? How Lauren S. was finally around for something in #out-of-context? That Joe shared his experiences and learning, and we heard tales of Madeleine’s travels?

Do you remember the day of the third Overtime? The hot dogs, the dancing, the saying goodbye?

Photos

—

This issue of Paperwork was written and shot by Iván. Photo selection and editing by Iván and Livvy. Editorial support was provided by Livvy. This issue, and The Company itself, was made possible by the support of our members, Halie, Drew J., Justin, Mason, José, Mary Ann, Trevr, Allyson, Lizzie, Elijah, Michelle, Jim, Jacob, Mark, Sabrina, Beth, Dani, Chris, Will, Rebeca, Sarah, Alex, Jessica P., Jessica S., Ben, Sam Ad., Christof, Ryan, Lauren T., Madeleine, Simon, Adam, Gus, Lauren S., Earl, Bennett, Sylvia, Morgan, Joe, and our newest member, Case.

Feel free to forward. Everyone loves Paperwork.

😘