A Half-Remembered Dream

Since Too-Big-to-Fail failed us so spectacularly, I don’t eat out that much anymore.

It’s not just the money; a bit of the hermit’s set in. It was easier when there was someone else to do the encouraging (and the driving), and certainly easier when I was already downtown, closing up shop for the evening. Ande would often meet me at Frontier: It was always best when the kids were with him too. We’d traipse just up the hill to Compadres, a huge Mexican place on the corner, where Davison’s department store once was. The store and the restaurant are long gone, and so much else is too.

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