I was playing around with a new small camera from Olympus that has an extraordinary telephoto capability for a small camera that is. So naturally I looked around for a place in Billings to try it out. I drove up toward the airport and along the road that leads to the Heights. I found a place to drive closer to the edge of the Rimrocks and eventually got to a fairly high point overlooking the city of Billings and the Yellowstone River. I also found the above gravesite, which I did not know existed here in Billings, though I have lived here almost 28 years now.
When I consulted Mr Google I was surprised to see that there is a book out about Mr Luther "Yellowstone" Kelly, and a movie starring Clint Walker, released in 1959; a hotel in West Yellowstone, and a catering outfit here in Billings using his name, and perhaps more but I stopped on page 3. I was not surprised at my ignorance. This is probably a good demonstration of the proposition that the things we don't know we don't know might be more important than the things we know we don't know.
[In case you have not figured out what the brackets are for: they are a reminder that I suffer from the peculiar habit of going back and adding to various blogs in the past. This morning, 11 March 2008, I remembered that I was up on this hill once before. I was called here by the coroner because someone had shot himself in the head. I did not recognize the shooter until he was laid out on my autopsy table and someone told me his name. He was an anesthesiologist who I then recalled had smiled at me in an odd way a few days earlier while passing in the halls of the pathology department. Vero.]
[In case you have not figured out what the brackets are for: they are a reminder that I suffer from the peculiar habit of going back and adding to various blogs in the past. This morning, 11 March 2008, I remembered that I was up on this hill once before. I was called here by the coroner because someone had shot himself in the head. I did not recognize the shooter until he was laid out on my autopsy table and someone told me his name. He was an anesthesiologist who I then recalled had smiled at me in an odd way a few days earlier while passing in the halls of the pathology department. Vero.]
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