The other day I had dinner at a brewpub with Cam and Annette so they could share their knowledge about Portugal. In a gap between map references--the Iberian peninsula spread open on the table--Cam happened to mention that he'd grown up in Hillsdale. I found out what schools he went to; I knew them well. I named a half dozen or so prominent figures; he knew them well. In fact, he knew some of them so well that he gaped in astonishment at my mention of their names. He'd spent hours and hours with some of these characters, he said. Once or twice he slammed his palm down on the table, remembering John G., or Alex N., or Gary G.
That closed the book on Portugal and swung the book of Hillsdale wide open. To be continued.