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I was remembering this morning the way that I would feel in my body when I drove the unpaved road that led to a family cottage that I visited regularly for almost a decade. The drive to the Northwoods would take a little more than 4 hours yet most vivid in my imagination are the final 4 or 5 miles. I know the turns and landmarks, the small strip of Main Street with its grocery store, tackle shop and the bright white clapboard ...