There is nothing stranger than the beginning

It was a particularly sunny morning, June 2, my last day living on the south shore of Massachusttes. I had packed up all my meager belongings, stuffed them in my Ford, bought a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and left many promising situations for the Green Mountains. I didn't even know what Killington was.

I had made this central Vermont region my destination because of a girl. Enough said.