I’m back after months of excruciating sadness, gall bladder surgery with complications, hospital beds and a bewildering confrontation with modern medical organization.  What ever happened to Dr. Burgoyne who would come to the house with his black bag? 

The students are back, the town is filled with cars looking for parking spaces, and I have heard several times, around 10 p.m., a vehicle ( I suspect a food truck) driving the neighborhood playing “Happy Times Are Here Again!”  On that note, I end.