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Left Behind 

I just spent a week in Canyon Country in Utah staring at pictographs from hundreds of years ago and it reminded me that it is human nature to leave our mark.

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I just spent a week in Canyon Country in Utah staring at pictographs from hundreds of years ago and it reminded me that it is human nature to leave our mark. At our bar, it usually seems to be upon the men's bathroom paper towel dispenser, which I am now thinking taunts men who are just trying to keep their hands clean by saying, "Hey there, you look like the sort of muscular young lad you might be able to rip me off this wall!" or "Wouldn't I look better with a crack down my front?" Then there's our rechargeable tea lights, which are utterly worthless to anyone without the $400 charger yet are nonetheless stolen.

But sometimes what we forget is to cherish what people leave behind.

This week it was a personally engraved flask with beautiful detailing that appeared to be filled with Apple Pucker and Tang (I assume that is the drink of choice for an aspiring astronaut), one black heel with gold detailing (Perhaps Cinderella is out on the loose in Bend this summer), a full bottle of Maker's Mark (might I just say "thank you" for whoever was thinking of me) and a set of glassware from the neighboring bar, which unfortunately doesn't match our glassware at all and as such will need to be returned.

We also found a fish scaler, a mechanical pencil and half a bag of sunflower seeds.

Makers Mark, notwithstanding, my hope is that we might someday go back to painting on rocks.

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