I think I first fell in love with Colorado back in 1968, when we took a family vacation from Michigan out to Salt Lake City and back. My dad had been asked to speak at a genealogy event, and rather than him just flying to SLC and back, we loaded up the station wagon (one of the Fords with fake wood panels, painted (and I don’t know why I remember this) the lovely shade called “seafoam green”) and off we went, for a big circle route that included crossing the Centennial State.

Not too many years later, I found the music and messages of John Denver and became a big fan. His poignant music and prose touched my heart. As it turned out, through my later involvement with his environment education organization, the Windstar Foundation, I had the honor of becoming a friend of John’s, a relationship I will always treasure. There’s nothing that is more Colorado than John. Well, maybe the Broncos.

And John’s oft-references to Colorado helped turn my mind to thoughts of living there one day. When I decided to join Air Force ROTC at the University of Michigan, I thought I would spend a tour, maybe two, on active duty and would then move on to the rest of my life. Well, that thought ended up stretching out to more than 25 years on active duty, the bulk of it, happily, in Colorado.

I started off as a “finger-on-the-button” guy in the ICBM world, up in Cheyenne, Wyoming. A handful of our ICBM command sites were in Colorado (the missile field covers more than 18,000 miles across Wyoming, Nebraska and Colorado), and I always enjoyed popping into Colorado from time to time to sit nuclear alert.

Happily, my next assignment was to the faculty of the Air Force Academy, in Colorado Springs. I arrived at the academy for the first time in 1987. I would spend the rest of my career (mostly) in Colorado. I eventually, after I retired from the Air Force, ran for Congress here, and am proud to consider myself a Coloradan, albeit an immigrant one from another state.

I was reminded of all this when I read a report in Colorado Politics, that noted for the first time in a long time, more people moved out of Colorado than moved in. The margin was relatively small, only 12,100 or so, but it did mark the first time in 20 years when more left than arrived.

The report in CoPo was penned by Vince Bzdek, who is one of my many, many bosses, and he noted with some regret the numbers shifted direction, and I think I understand that. But the overall population of the state did increase, and it is possible a bit of an immigration fluke was responsible, in that quite a few immigrants arrived in Colorado as their first U.S. destination, all the while planning on leaving for other states after getting settled. But the point raised remains an important one: we need population growth to keep a vibrant jobs market as well as other factors that add fuel to the economy. And I get that, but I’m not entirely sure I agree (happily, Vince is a forgiving sort of fellow).

The Colorado state song is, as you know… (building suspense with a pause) “Where the Columbines Grow.” That tune was adopted in 1915. But the other state song (yes, we have two), is “Rocky Mountain High” by my old friend John Denver.

I love that song (the latter) but there is a message in there, and it was about people moving to Colorado.

Though you likely know the tune at least enough to hum along when it plays, there are lyrics that might make you wonder what John was talking about. Specifically, his song regrets “more people, more scars upon the land.” That part of the song was written about keeping people out of Colorado.

Back in 1972, our lovely state was awarded the 1976 Winter Olympic games, pending a voter referendum on whether or not we wanted to partially fund the Olympics. John objected to hosting the games, thinking it would bring, well, more people and more scars up on the land. He later mentioned he felt his tune had been helpful in getting the voters to reject hosting by prohibiting the state government from “levying taxes and appropriating or loaning funds for the purpose of aiding or furthering the 1976 Winter Olympic Games.”

The voters rejected the Olympics 60% to 40%.

Now, it is at least somewhat hypocritical of me to argue we have enough people already, given until the late 1980s, I was a Michigan resident. But I’ve been a Coloradan for more than 40 years now, and hopefully that qualifies me to have an opinion, but I admit I’m not entirely sure what that opinion is.

There is certainly a point when we might agree there are enough people and enough development, in general, but I’m guessing every governor we elect, from any party, will always be in favor of additional growth and expansion in the name of progress. I worry mostly about water availability in coming years, especially east and west of the front range. Unchecked, or at least ill-considered growth, poses a danger to people and to the environment. I suspect simple population growth is fine, as long as we, as a state, have a plan, particularly when it comes to energy use and water. But do we?

I suspect my boss (Hi, Vince!) and I actually agree on reasoned growth coupled with proper public administration of resources. Frankly, I can’t understand people who don’t want to move to Colorado.

All that said, as is often the case in political science questions, the answer to whether fewer immigrants is a good thing or not is, well, it depends. It depends on many factors, such as water, and is unlikely to be resolved by any one bit of legislation or public policy. Most important is for state leaders to be aware of our population’s growth, decline, or shifts. Hopefully, good public policy can come forth, regardless of how many moving vans are running in which direction across our borders.

Hal Bidlack is a retired professor of political science and a retired Air Force lieutenant colonel who taught more than 17 years at the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs.