Tuesday, May 3, 2005 | 8:12 a.m.
It's hard to find anything wrong with free barbecue, so I won't try.
After all, Sunday afternoon's weather was glorious. And a visit to the Clark County Museum off Boulder Highway was a good excuse to get out in it without having to do anything sweaty, such as exercise, or anything constructive, such as yard work.
As if we have a "yard."
Anyway, the lure of free food and free admission worked like a charm. A whole mess of us showed up between 1 p.m. and 4 p.m. to partake of the offerings and learn more about Las Vegas' Helldorado Days. (A "mess" is more than a bunch but fewer than a Wynn casino opening.)
At least, the plug on the county's television network promised a Helldorado exhibit. But the exhibits were the same as always -- historic houses preserved from Nevada's past.
They are good likenesses, with original furnishings and decor from the eras they represent all protected behind panes of floor-to-ceiling glass.
The first looked like the house my grandparents had on their Michigan farm. Another was furnished in a style similar to that of the other set of grandparents, who lived in the city.
Furniture and appliances like my parents had when they married in 1950 were featured in a third.
"This looks like the house I grew up in," The Other remarked.
I spotted a juicer sitting atop a kitchen counter that looked exactly like the one we used when I was growing up.
And both of us remembered the suitcase-type apparatus into which the television repairman plugged tubes from the back of the family's TV to see why it had stopped working.
The free coleslaw was great. But the historic presentation was rather anticlimactic. We went out there to see Las Vegas' history, not ours.
Yes, sometimes it takes awhile for my "duh" meter to go off.
With so much hype and publicity about the Las Vegas Centennial, it's easy to forget that 100 years really isn't all that long ago. For a city, 100 years is hardly middle age.
Some people live longer.
And so many of us have moved here so recently that we connect over little more than which section of freeway is opening next and how long it'll be before the swath of open space across the road is covered with houses.
But the Clark County Museum can show us a not-so-distant era when Charleston Boulevard was a one-lane dirt thoroughfare by the time it crossed Lindell Road.
It points to a time when teenagers rode their horses down to the Strip and tied them up behind the Silver Slipper before going in for breakfast on Saturday mornings.
It's not ancient history.
But it's our history.
"This is what my grandma's house looked like," a man told his small son as they pressed their noses against the glass and peered at a 1940s-vintage kitchen.
The boy wasn't in any hurry to move on, and it didn't seem to be because of the air conditioning. He looked and listened as his dad mentioned items around the room and recalled the memories they elicited.
For a few minutes, history wasn't more than something that happened a long time ago.
And the little boy was connected to it by the hand that held his firmly.
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