Primary Day has finally arrived in Wyoming, and with it comes a collective exhale from voters who have spent weeks wading through a flood of campaign mailers. The letters published by Oil City News as a public service are a reminder that behind every ballot is a person with a story, a gripe, or a hope. Ralph Mikels of Casper begins with a simple confession: he is glad the mailers will stop. Like many Wyomingites, he is tired of glossy postcards that twist the truth about candidates he knows personally. He specifically wants two groups—PAC For A Better Wyoming and WYO for Business—to prove their claims about Representative Tony Locke. Giving these attacks more power, he argues, is the fact that the PAC attacking Locke took money from California, Pennsylvania, and Washington, D.C. For Mikels, that raises a pointed question: Who is really catering to outside interests? His answer is blunt. He calls the groups socialists or Democratic socialists and says, in his opinion, they should be run out of the state. It is a sharp, frustrated message—not polished, not cautious, but honest. That rawness is exactly what makes a public forum like this valuable. Mikels may not speak for everyone, but he speaks for a certain kind of voter: one who values personal knowledge, resents outside money, and wants accountability before accusations.
If Mikels is focused on the nastiness of campaigns, Chris Willis is focused on the kitchen-table math that determines whether a family can get by. He opens his letter with an observation that has become hard to dismiss: Democratic Socialists of America candidates are winning elections across the country, and they are winning because they talk about affordability. Housing, food, utilities, medicine—the basics—have become unaffordable for too many people. Willis acknowledges that DSA candidates and Common Sense Republicans like Senator Eric Barlow are at least addressing the issue. But he argues that most proposed solutions miss the underlying cause: why are things so expensive in the first place? He offers two significant drivers. The first is massive federal deficit spending, which injects roughly two trillion newly printed dollars into the economy every year. He does not spare conservatives from this critique, noting that President Donald Trump is responsible for 40 percent of the total U.S. debt. He points to federal grant programs, including the Casper North Platte “bridge to nowhere,” as examples of local leaders doing their part to keep the debt unsustainable. Every deficit dollar, he says, dilutes the purchasing power of the dollars in your paycheck and savings. More dollars chasing the same amount of real goods means higher prices. The second driver is the heavy regulatory burden. Some regulation is necessary, he admits, but when red tape and cronyism add 40 percent to the price of Wyoming-raised beef, the system is broken. Willis spends little time defending liberal proposals to grow government and spend more. He sees both socialism and crony capitalism as two sides of the same coin, both looking to government as the answer when government is actually the problem. That is why he supports Brent Bien, the only candidate in his race who talks as if he understands the issue. Bien’s plan includes true independent audits of state governments, reducing business-strangling regulations, cutting spending to ease the inflationary spiral, and letting the private sector create wealth without fear of confiscation through taxes or money printing. Willis calls it change he can believe in—and whether you agree or not, his letter captures the economic anxiety driving many voters.
Not every letter is about candidates and campaigns. James Schick of Cheyenne is focused on a place—and what a proposed energy project could do to it. He first learned about the Seminoe Pumped Storage Project in March 2025 and took the time to comment to the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission. At first, he considered writing about deeply personal memories: harvesting his first elk below Kortes Dam, casting into the North Platte, sitting in the quiet beauty of that landscape. But he soon realized those stories were not his alone. They belong to thousands of Wyomingites who have stood in the same places, created memories, and formed a connection to the land. That shared attachment is why the project worries so many people. It would put the Miracle Mile, the North Platte River, Seminoe State Park, and the Ferris-Seminoe bighorn sheep herd at risk. Schick points out a crucial technical irony: FERC itself acknowledges that pumped storage projects are energy losers. They consume more energy pumping water uphill than they generate when it flows back down. The project appears to pencil out only because of federal tax subsidies and a waiver of seasonal wildlife protections. In other words, Wyoming would carry the risks while broader electricity markets enjoy the benefits. He is not anti-energy. He calls for responsible development that is well-sited, protects fish and wildlife, respects communities, and benefits Wyoming. He understands why these conversations get passionate—everyone wants to be heard, and everyone believes they are protecting something worth preserving. Life, he writes, is rarely as simple as progress versus preservation; it is lived in the gray, where thoughtful people can disagree while acting from sincere conviction. He hopes decision-makers listen to experts, stakeholders, and people whose lives are rooted in this landscape. He is grateful Senator John Barrasso has already raised concerns with FERC and hopes the entire Wyoming delegation keeps pressing. Most of all, he wants a decision that future generations will not second-guess with the question, “What were they thinking?” He encourages readers to contact the delegation through the Wyoming Wildlife website and oppose the project. It is a plea not just for policy, but for preservation of a way of life.
If Schick asks for humility, Representative J.R. Riggins of Casper asks for facts. His letter is a response to a campaign mailer promoting Neil Jeske’s plan. That mailer described Wyoming government as a hostile force, called taxation “violent extraction,” and promised to “dismantle” the system rather than manage it. Riggins argues that this is not a plan; it is a rejection of the very institutions Jeske wants to join. He reminds readers what tax dollars actually do. They fund public safety, roads, water systems, schools, senior programs, veteran services—the basic infrastructure and care that make Wyoming livable. Calling that theft, he says, dismisses the concerns of the many citizens who reach out to their representatives, as well as the hard work of local officials, first responders, and educators who serve the public every day. Riggins also takes issue with the mailer’s factual claims. He says SF0126 did not “ship cash to Ireland” or allocate ten million dollars in taxpayer funds to a foreign trade commission. The bill was about trade promotion opportunities, not direct overseas transfers. And, most importantly, it did not pass. Wyoming’s legislative process is transparent and documented; anyone can verify the record on the legislature’s official website. For Riggins, this is not just about one mailer. It is about what kind of leadership Wyoming deserves. He believes the state’s strength comes from pragmatic leaders who listen to testimony, weigh evidence, and make decisions based on their constituents’ needs. Dismissing that process as “dependency” or “bureaucracy” undermines representative government itself. He says he believes in limited, efficient government—but also in honest debate, factual accountability, and respect for the people who make Wyoming work. Citizens deserve leaders who build rather than dismantle, solve problems rather than inflame them. His letter is a defense of process and civility, and a reminder that in a democracy, words matter.
Taken together, these four letters paint a vivid picture of Wyoming at an election moment. There is frustration with outside money and attack ads, as Mikels voices. There is anxiety about affordability and the economy, as Willis explains. There is deep concern for the outdoors and the places that define our identity, as Schick describes. And there is a plea for honesty and decency in political debate, as Riggins insists. The letters do not agree with one another. In fact, they sometimes cut against each other. Mikels attacks outside interests and suggests socialists should leave the state; Willis criticizes both liberal spending and conservative inaction, and finds a candidate he believes can solve the problem. Schick wants Wyoming’s delegation to stop a federal project; Riggins wants voters to stop believing misleading mailers. But underneath the disagreements is a shared desire to be heard. Schick says it best: “We all want to be heard. We all believe we are protecting something worth preserving, whether wildlife habitat, economic opportunity, or a way of life.” That is the essence of a letters section. It is not always tidy. It can be angry, passionate, confident, and sometimes contradictory. But it is real. In a state where neighbors may disagree on policy but still show up for one another in a snowstorm, this kind of honest expression matters. It reminds us that politics is not a spectator sport. It is what happens when ordinary people take the time to write down what they believe and send it out into the world, hoping that someone—maybe a candidate, maybe a neighbor—will listen.
At their heart, these letters are not simply about policy positions. They are about home. When Mikels defends a friend from false accusations, he is protecting a community he knows personally. When Willis argues for audits and deregulation, he is trying to make life easier for families struggling to pay for groceries and prescriptions. When Schick talks about the Miracle Mile and the bighorn sheep herd, he is speaking for a landscape that has shaped generations. When Riggins pushes back against a misleading mailer, he is defending the idea that facts still matter in a democracy. Elections will come and go. Mailers will fill our mailbox and then be recycled. But the underlying questions remain: Who are we? What do we value? How do we want to live together? The people who wrote these letters do not pretend to have all the answers. They are simply doing their civic duty, sharing their experiences and asking others to think. That is the unglamorous, essential work of self-government. It is easy to be cynical. It is harder to sit down, write a letter, and risk being wrong in front of the whole community. But that is what these Wyomingites have done. They have reminded us that democracy is not a machine that runs itself. It requires attention, patience, and sometimes uncomfortable conversations. It requires us to listen to people we disagree with and find common ground where we can. And it requires us to remember that behind every argument is a person who loves this state as much as we do. So as the votes are counted and the political season moves on, perhaps the best response is to keep the conversation going—not with anger, but with humility, curiosity, and respect. If we do that, future generations won’t look back and ask “What were they thinking?” They will look back and say, “They cared enough to try.”