My trip here always takes me way back, to sleeping in my old bedroom with the ground covered in snow. When I was a kid, I’d wake up and could tell something was different – the sound outside was muffled – and I’d jump out of bed, look out the very same window and know school was cancelled.
Then it was on. I grew up next to a golf course, with a steep decline on the ninth hole that was perfect for sledding. It included a treacherous area we referred to as “Suicide Hill.”
