We were kids. We were strangers. We were pilgrims. We were traveling for the sake of seeing something that we hadn’t. And I admit: I was shaken by the words of a stranger. I asked him, “What do you do in a town like this?” He said, “Everybody’s working just to get out of here.” But is here any better than there? Or is it all just gas stations, truck stops and commercial developments? And is home any place that you feel you belong?