Datebook

By Carl Sampson I like holidays — all of them. I like Christmas, New Year’s, the Fourth of July, Labor Day — even National Ice Cream Day (the third Sunday in July) and Talk Like […]

I was minding my own business, I really was. Then a bespectacled, curly blue topped, (not unlike Hallmark’s Maxine) great-grandmother sort, walked up to the cashier that was ringing up my purchase.

“Excuse me,” she said softly to the checker “do you know of anyplace local to stay for the night.”
When the cash register stopped clinking away the clerk looked at her a bit blankly. The woman persisted and filled in the quest with the details that she and another gal were returning to Idaho from down south and had detoured through Bend and onto Highway 22.