Chinook by George M Hosier II - Fun

I had one of those Déjà vu moments the other day. Did you ever smell an odor or hear a sound that triggered long-forgotten memories? Maybe it was the unique olfactory cocktail of musty mattress ticking, fresh log sealer and wet sneakers that took you back to your summer youth camp days. Perhaps the sound of a revving Harley, a guttural laugh, creaking leather and the “snick” of a switchblade spring reminded you of the time you wore a Kawasaki shirt to a H.O.G rally. For me it was a petulant voice that I overheard in a local business, “So, what is there to do around here for fun?”

Instantly it seemed that I was back in Moose Hole Lodge tending the cash register as a pimply-faced adolescent. Back then, the concept of human beings not being able to figure out how to occupy their very own time was incomprehensible. The first time a traveler asked me the question, I was so nonplussed that I found myself struck mute on the spot. It was as if someone had asked me, “So, why do you wear your ears on the side of your head?”

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