If we had trees in Las Vegas, and those trees had leaves, and those leaves turned gold and orange and red, and those golds and oranges and reds carpeted your lawn in a soft/crunchy matrix of invitation to leisurely autumnal frolic, and you waded in among them, enjoying the whisper, crunch and rattle of the leaves, their scent of earthen secrets unlocked ... yeah, that might approximate the flavor of The Daily at StripSteak.
More than 20 years ago, a couple dozen Strip hotels and the Culinary Workers Union Local 226 created a training academy to provide the employers in the state’s biggest industry with a reliable pipeline of high-quality staff.
In February, this magazine published an article entitled “Is the Army at it Again?” which reported an explosion on January 8 at Frenchman Flat, northwest of Las Vegas. A month after we ran the piece, we received an envelope containing two cassette tapes from a man who claimed to be an orderly at a hospice in North Las Vegas.
We want to say that Decemberlands, by local writer and occasional Desert Companion contributor Greg Blake Miller — a slim, highly readable volume of three short stories with holiday themes — would make a great stocking stuffer. But that would shortchange the book: By the time the recipient opens it on December 25, he or she will be pretty much holidayed-out. And it would be a shame to set aside a book that, really, isn’t about seasonal clichés.