So Bozeman isn't all bad...If you're over 60. Why, because you can join a choral group and sing songs that everyone has forgotten. Or will soon forget with the onset of dementia. It's kind of a blessing in disguise.
I have no idea what this group of Septa, Octo, and Nonagenarians are called, but one sang with an oxygen tank by his side (seriously, I can't make this up). The group brought in their own mannequin pioneer woman for some unknown reason which sat propped up in a far corner of the cafe where I sat studying. And best of all was the detached stuffed horse head. The horse head would normally be found on a broomstick and be paraded by a kid wearing a paper cowboy hat, but removed from the stick, it looked as if a community theater troupe was going to re-enact scenes from "The Godfather." The severed horse head rested on the ground as the aged chorus sang a stirring rendition of "Ghost Riders in the Sky."
And that is what goes on in this town. One might say it is awesome...Other's might say something to the contrary.
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