The New York Times Magazine - USA (2020-08-23)

(Antfer) #1

18 Photograph by Trent Davis Bailey


Letter of Recommendation


Arriving home in Albuquerque, there
are a few sensations I consistently delight
in. The brilliant warmth of the sun, of
course, as well as a growing anticipation
for that fi rst pungent bite of green chile
after months of enduring the Northeast’s
ghastly jalapeños. The subtle lightness
the air takes on at a mile of elevation.
Even thinking about the quirky fl oor
of the airport, a patterning of buff and
pink bricks, makes me a little moony.
All of that is especially true now: With
most travel put on hold because of the


corona virus pandemic, endless after-
noons rattling around my apartment
near Boston have left my mind with little
to do but wander. My nostalgia, though,
goes deeper than mere sense memory.
What I’m really longing for is the more
ambiguous perspective that arriving
there imparts. Returning to Mountain
time doesn’t just mean turning my watch
back: It means calving myself free of the
schedules that set the nation’s agenda;
it means a more humane relationship to
the passing of the hours.

Mountain Time


By Kyle Paoletta


Though it covers roughly a quarter of
the continental United States, the Moun-
tain time zone contains less than 7 percent
of the country’s population. There are only
three cities large enough to sustain major-
league sports teams here, and one of them
is in Utah. That so few Americans call the
Mountain West home is ample explanation
for its low profi le, and the reason its time
zone is both constantly threatened and
oddly sought after. For the past two years,
a lawmaker in Boise has sought to wrench
Idaho’s panhandle away from Pacifi c time,

8.23.

Living two hours
behind New York and
one hour ahead of
San Francisco allows
you to roam free
of their strictures.
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