I had a feeling it was going to be my kind of town when we drove in and saw a suspended sign over the two-lane road that said, “Happy Holidays,” written in sparkly green tinsel. And the drive up Main Street only confirmed my suspicions.

Business signs that certainly hadn’t been changed in decades lined the way to the city center. Beautiful brick buildings towered with history and painted billboards fading from their sides. Even the mannequins in the storefront windows looked like they’d been standing there since 1958.

We stopped for lunch at the Rainbow Cafe and our waitress called us things like “sugar” and “honey” and “sweetheart” as she took our order. When we walked down the street, people smiled and said hello. And the thrift/antique/junk shop around the corner was bursting at its vintage seams with dresses and hats and lace and bottles and LPs and china from citizens past. Spencer bought a sweet tambourine. Joe bought a ring for his lady. Mindy bought a painting.

There wasn’t much time to dawdle, but we soaked our fill and when I got home, one of the first things I said to Frit was, “A roadtrip to Pendleton, Oregon is in order. For the thrift shop alone, it’s worth the drive. We simply must go.”

And simply, you must.