On the way out of St. Louis this morning, keeping an eagle eye out for Fred Drew's Frozen Custard place, I noticed the St. Louis Hills Retirement Home and pulled over. I was thinking about how many of the residents had lived along the route all their lives and imagining they must have some amazing stories to tell. A white sun chair was stationed outside the front door, so I left an old volume of Sherlock Holmes along with some BBC radio dramatizations of various cases, our card and a friendly note.