Saturday, 01 August 2026 was Colorado’s Sesquicentennial. In keeping with its tradition, our Colorado Springs Pioneers Museum (CSPM) threw a magnificent birthday party. From 10am to 4pm, visitors were treated to three live music venues—bands who played foot-stomping, body swaying, “I know the lyrics to this song,” tunes outside in the gazebo, and two classical music groups inside, one in the lobby, the other in the courtroom on the upper floor. There were food trucks and various outdoor booths—including face painting for kids of all ages—and, for a while, a beautiful ostrich quietly greeting folks as if it was the master of outdoor ceremonies. Most of all, there were people, lots of people smiling, dancing, sitting in the shade, and most notably, people talking to each other. The heat did nothing to frustrate the feeling of gaiety or community camaraderie; for a few hours on this fine day, strangers became friends.
Once inside the museum, visitors were greeted by what seemed an unending number of employees and volunteers whose sole mission was to guide and assist anyone in need: “Where’s the new exhibit?” “Are all of the exhibits open today?” “Where’s the bathroom?” “How do I get upstairs without taking the stairs?” “Why is a small piece of wood in a clear box on the display table in the lobby?” [It is a relic from the U.S.S. Maine!] Every query was answered directly and with a generous smile. Gracious and genial employees manning the front desk welcomed each visitor as if they were the first to enter the grand old building; they offered maps and diligently guarded the hundreds of water bottles visitors brought in. Remarkably, once inside, one felt relief from the outdoor temperature (reaching 94+ degrees), despite the hundreds of bodies (each and all generating heat) wandering about the museum. Inside, joyfulness and community camaraderie continued to be the order of the day: everywhere, in the lobby, in the various galleries, people were talking to each other; for at least a few moments inside our museum, strangers became friends. It was nothing short of glorious.
Once inside the museum, visitors were greeted by what seemed an unending number of employees and volunteers whose sole mission was to guide and assist anyone in need: "Where's the new exhibit?" "Are all of the exhibits open today?" "Where's the bathroom?" "How do I get upstairs without taking the stairs?" "Why is a small piece of wood in a clear box on the display table in the lobby?"
“Glorious,” “magnificent,” “awesome,” and “mind blowing,” are all apt yet still-understated adjectives to describe CSPM’s celebration centerpiece: the opening of its newest exhibit, Freedom to Thrive: The American Experiment in Colorado Springs. Inside this gallery each visitor embarks on a temporal, geographic, sensory journey that amazes and astonishes. Whether they say it aloud or in their heads, visitors ask: “How the heck did they do all this?! Why didn’t I know that?!” Then it happens: strangers start talking to and with each other. “Did you see . . .?” one asks another. “No, where is that?” “Here, let me show you . . .” or “it’s just ‘round the corner on the back wall ….” In less than an hour, strangers become “We the People.” In one document, photograph, or artifact, among scores of documents, photographs, images, and artifacts on display, they see their Founding Framers, their grandparents, themselves, and, more pointedly, they encounter and connect with people who, each in their own way, on their own or as part of a larger group, contributed to and changed history. One might ask, “Whose history and why should I care?” The answer to that question is deceptively simple as it is complicated and complex: Our history. From the signing of the Declaration of Independence to Colorado statehood on August 1, 1876, and on to today, every visitor shares a piece of our local, state, and national history. What we do with that history, what we do to make our own mark on history, is up to us individually and collectively. This is the exhibit’s point. Freedom to Thrive inspires visitors to do more than glimpse Colorado Springs’ and Colorado’s past; it compels us to see how the interactions of people from different backgrounds and experiences connect the past with the present, and to ponder why those intersections matter to each of us today.
To these ends, and not lost on the visitor is the intentional placement of a kitchen table and chairs and a miniature living room in the middle of this exhibit. Here, at the end of their journey (and what a journey it is!), visitors—whether they are families, friends, or strangers–are silently invited to sit and converse with each other, share their experiences, their stories, their points of view about anything and everything, just as they would in their homes. Or, the lone visitor can rest and reflect. This space, genius in its intention and arrangement, exemplifies the museum’s “call to action,” to meaningfully contemplate and share our histories—personal, community, and national—our differences and similarities, our dreams and hopes, and crucially, “to find common ground for the common good in 2026.” This exhibit, so delicately, deftly, and evocatively curated is a masterful example of what public history and community gathering should be, could be, and is. Freedom to Thrive is not an exhibit a person visits once; it is a journey one needs and wants to experience over and over.
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