I called my 89-year-old aunt this weekend and ounced that I would be traveling her way later in January.
“Good,” she said with enthusiasm. “Where are we going?”
It has become a tradition that whenever I land back in my hometown, we take a day trip. We kick around cemeteries, shop in clothing boutiques, go watch the golfers play at the Robert Trent Jones course, find my great grandmother’s old house …
