THE IDLE AMERICAN

THE IDLE AMERICAN
THE IDLE AMERICAN

For a few days, it seemed that I’d caught lightning in a bottle-the kind rarely seen on life’s highway--particularly in the slow lane. It was as if bolts from the heavens were barely moving, like senior adults who can’t--or won’t --speed up, even if cited by traffic officers who urge enrollment in offensive driving classes.

While deplaning at Casper, WY, International Airport, I felt transported ba…