I lived in the Midwest most of my life. When I didn't live there, I lived in New England and now in the Pacific Northwest. I spent hours sledding at the old golf course next to our house, building snow forts, packing snowballs, and crunching through knee-deep, ice-covered drifts as a child. As an adult, I spent hours driving, wearing out I-80 and I-35 visiting family and friends (me visiting them...never the other way around any time but summer). I remember those trips all too well. Driving alone in my little cars, singing to the cassette tapes and later the compact discs that I played, listening to music that I selected for myself, driving to see people all alone. I felt like an aimed traveler risking my life at times along treacherous roadways arriving to lukewarm welcomes. When I arrived, my Midwestern co-citizens would ask, "How were the roads?" I would always reply, "Oh, they were fine." If you don't know, when a Midwesterner (or pretty much anybody) te
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