In my father's final years, as he approached 90, he set some records for inflated crowd estimates.
I would call my parents and ask about their day. “It was like Grand Central Station over here,” my dad would say.
Further probing would inevitably reveal that something like two visitors had stopped by to see my folks. Even if the company didn't actually cross paths, it was always “Grand Central Station.”
Though he grew up in a small town, my father was born in New York City. So I suppose he had a right to that reference, hyperbolic as it was.
So here's the question. When people who have lived their whole lives in the West get to be a certain age, what image do they trot out to characterize bustling activity?
Features writer Paul Turner is a columnist for The Spokesman-Review in the Features department. He writes "The Slice" column, which appears six times a week and produces general features stories for the Today section.
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