By Scott Graber It is Tuesday, and we’re in Connecticut driving through a rolling landscape where large properties are defined by thigh-high
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In 1954, I was 9 years old, and like most 9 year olds, was consumed with World War II. Many of my
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It is Sunday, and we’re in Frederick, Md. At the moment I’m in the lobby of a hotel that claims its rooms
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It is Thursday, and I’m in North Adams, Mass. This morning it’s cold — 30 degrees — but I’m sitting inside brick
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It is Saturday, and I’m in Port Royal. This morning I’m sitting in my dining room writing, drinking my coffee and listening
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It is Friday, Oct. 30, and I’m standing in 6 inches of water trying to submerge a 6 inch-wide hose that comes
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