Well, friends, it’s been quite a year.
‘Twas two days before Christmas and o’r the Plateau,
I drive here and there, meeting people I know;
It’s still early evening as I drive down 410,
And cruise into Buckley where I stop quite often.
Christmas is a romantic time of year and therefore, you would correctly presume, romantic personalities rise to their full fruition during the holiday season.
Our economy is so screwed up it would boggle the mind of a Hindu holy man and King County still has an unemployment rate near 10 percent.
There are some ridiculous rumors floating around the Plateau about my drinking habits.
Since the very first pilgrim/Indian feast in 1621, Thanksgiving has been a time of family gatherings.
So, I went bouncing up the steps to KeyBank, clutching a certificate of deposit interest check tightly in my grimy, little fist, intending to cash it to secure a few nickels and hoping to greet Cherri, Rosita and all those charming tellers.
Well, friends, just in case you haven’t yet geared up for the occasion, I would remind you that this Sunday all those terrifying, unholy creatures of ancient folklore will once again stagger, float and crawl across our fields and streets.
Once upon a time, way back in the early 1980s, Doug Williams of Whistling Jack’s fame, Bob Grubb of Greenwater and Jeanne Lyman of Crystal Mountain, along with two or three of their associates, sat down over coffee or beers and decided many tourist attractions around Mount Rainier could use a little promotion.
I was stumbling down the street last week when I saw an attractive, middle-aged woman walking toward me.
Well, friends, we’re still waiting for the promised economic recovery
Continued from last week: So, I’d be sitting in the old Liberty Theater with 20 or 30 other impatient kids….
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