There was a strong smell of patchouli in the air, a scent that mom carried ever since the 60's, and the room was tapestried in old Indian print bedspreads. There were a couple of unopened packages on the table, wrapped in brown PAPER, string, and sealing wax. There was other fancy stuff, but a glance at the postmark gave me a jolt - Missoula - in a faint red ink.

"Far out, sonny, you're just in time to see my new Bo-Ran I ordered from a place in Montana."

"MOM! NO!" I rushed to grab her hand as she reached out with her gardening shears to cut the package strings....