Visits home to the Catskills from University was like arriving through the mists of Brigadoon, a magic kingdom unchanged by time. That was Mountaindale and there was Becky’s, a grocery and dry goods store in a two story, red brick building sitting heavily on Main. I stopped in to get a pack of Marlboros. Becky handed me the pack and I reached out with a five dollar bill. She didn’t let go of the pack. We stood there each holding half the money and half the pack of Marlboros. Becky had white hair and piercing blue eyes. She must have been 80 years old. She looked me in the eyes and said, “Rocks and Sand.” I respectfully stood still with just a little pull on the cigarette pack. She repeated “Rocks and Sand, “ a couple more times as I raised my eyebrows questioning. She had me now, “Everything will be rocks and sand. Rocks and sand. Except for my Bungalows.” She let go of the smokes. “Ok, thanks. Bye Becky.”