Overheard during my lunchtime walk: Kansas’ “Dust in the Wind” emanating from the open door of a tavern near my office. How depressing would it be to park yourself in a dark little hole that smells of sweat and mildew, drinking beer and listening to that existential dirge while a beautiful late-summer afternoon unwinds just a few steps away? Even I don’t have that much appetite for melancholy self-reflection…