Editorial

It was just after six on a sleepy Saturday morning a couple months ago and I was driving the Beehive’s snow-white Toyota Cross through sludgoville, heading to the foo-foo coffee shop next to the junior college. The flight back to New Sludgoville was scheduled for noon and I still had to pack and was feeling a little rushed but I made sure I drove slowly. Twenty-five miles per hour is the posted maximum all across town and you can count on good ol’ Deputy Randall to be hiding out there somewhere in his black-under-blue Police Interceptor waiting to nail you for even a couple over the limit. Tell it to the judge, sir. But I didn’t mind driving slowly that morning because it had hit me the night before that aside from returning to sludgoville for Big Sis’s or the Beehive’s eventual funeral it was very likely the last time I’d ever visit my beloved NoDak hometown. Thought I’d better take the morning’s opportunity to check out some of the important sights of my life one final time. Shoot some pics to help my increasingly glitchy memory banks link this place to that face. And at the very top of my list was Old Man Granger’s house. Figured it might make a good Mile Marker story too. You never know.