A lesson in serendipity.
The town I grew up in, was the kind of place where nothing ever happened. Nothing at all. "How can that be? " you ask. I used to wonder too. And, to be honest I couldn't wait to get out of that place. The positive to such a place is that the smallest of the unusual things make it look remarkable. My house sat on a narrow lane, one of the many lanes that ran parallel to each other, holding a row of houses cradled between them. The houses were smaller compact boxes made with little to no imagination. Each house, an exact copy of the other. Maybe this was the only thoughtful thing about the design plan- lest the working class grow jealous of the neighbor with a better floor plan. All the people of the colony were in one form or another working for the government. Even in those days, the boundaries were well defined. Down the lane, was the national highway, which separated our colony from the village on the other Side. To the other end of the lane, ...
