Ah, my hometown.

Growing up there -most of the year- was pretty much like growing up in any small town in America, despite Pendleton seemingly being stuck in some other decade. What decade it was exactly continues to elude me.

But for one week every September, it was Mardi Gras on the high plains. I saw my first examples of drinking, fucking and fighting in the street. I saw my first dead body when I was thirteen: he had just been beaten to death minutes before my drunk ass stumbled on up.

My daughter's going over there today. She's good though; she can take care of herself. She's a farm girl.

No really: just for those who were not reading so much...I SAW THE BODY OF A DEAD PERSON WHO HAD RECENTLY BEEN BEATEN TO DEATH ON THE MAIN STREET OF THE TOWN I GREW UP IN WHILE DRUNK AND IN JUNIOR HIGH. I'm just sayin'...

Yeah, I was not what you'd call sober at 2:16 this morning.

Later on, when I was working at OHSU, I saw lots of dead bodies, but that's kinda different.