There’s something magical about a small town when considered in retrospect. The people are always more civilized than their big city counterparts. The values are always clear and simple. Right is right and wrong is wrong and there really is no in between. It takes less effort to be who you are than it does in the complicated world of pop culture that lurks beyond the borders of whatever hamlet may be at the end of N. Nostalgia Way. Maybe it’s just that, as adults, we have a greater appreciation for the unencumbered nature of youth. Whatever the reason, there are stories we cling to as the truth of our upbringing. They define us in ways no other experiences can. They stay with us as part of our identity. The neighbors who are as much your family as your family. The teachers who remain with you through your formative years and truly impact the course your future takes. The friends who share in laughter and tears and stand beside you through the trials and tribulations of a life without anonymity. The place, the only place, where all of these people and circumstances could come together to create a life worth remembering. These are the recollections that deserve to be recorded for the betterment of those not fortunate enough to have been there.