One Bible, Three, or Four Stories

The nice lady at the Motel check-in warned us that men might come around soon to change the bedside tables in our room. They didn't. Not that day at least. A relief too: We had driven two hours to Logan, flown 6 hours and driven another two hours to Eatonville, with all the attendant waits and hassles that come with air travel.

I made note of the handles on the, what looked like brand new, bedside tables, when I was casting about for a bottle opener. The room had a microwave, fridge and coffee maker, but no bottle opener. The curved underside of the drawer pull made a good field-expedient opener. And I made sure to be very careful, the pull was made of wood and I didn't want to damage it. The men probably already did this room and so the warning was not necessary.

The next day, we got back from the funeral and the bible was in the middle of the bed.

I suspected red-neckary or prudishness. When we checked in, the desk clerk asked how many rooms and then when the answer was "one", how many beds: Also, one. My wife wears a pretty traditional wedding ring but possibly all of that was overcome by her exotic looks.

Later, my wife mentioned this to one of my aunts, the aunt came up with the idea that it was because of the funeral. There were lots of Pecchias around town and the family was very prominent in their time--before they all moved away.

The real answer was the bed side stands. These must be new, they had no handles on them yet--just two neat holes where the attachment screws will go. The men were through--they made sure to empty the drawer before replacing the stand--not through enough to put the Bible back into the bedside stand though.