From the editor’s desk
I just got back from a week-long vacation to Nashville, Tenn. As many of you know, I lived in Nashville for 10 years, and while I always enjoy going back, it had been quite a few years since I had stepped foot on “good ole Rocky Top.”
They always say you can’t really go back. After all, it’s been 20 years since I called Nashville my home, and you can imagine the changes that have occurred. While I could still navigate around the city fairly well, there were lots of surprises, changes, mixed emotions. Though those changes equated to me feeling as if I had lost a piece of my past, I also left Nashville embracing the new and the different.
But amidst all the new experiences, there was clearly one thing that hadn’t changed. One of my reasons for my trip was to visit with my long-time friend Cathy, who is originally from Princeton but transplanted herself in the Nashville area more than 25 years ago. While we keep in touch via emails, texts and phone calls, it’s not the same as a face-to-face conversation. It was great to see her and to pick up right where we left off the last time we got together. Though we are both a bit older and own a few more gray hairs, her friendship was exactly the same as when we met almost 40 years ago.
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