I just moved into a new house. This concludes my pioneer hours at (insert address here). And as I walked outside tonight to find some eggs to buy and cook, I read the sweatshirt of a girl walking arm and arm, carrying a loaf of bread. "Are you from New Hampshire?" I said. Her shirt was grey and hooded, and the words "Lake Winnipesaukee" arched across her chest.
"Yes," she said. "Concord."
I grew up not 50 miles away from Concord, NH, not to be confused with Concord, MA, where our 5th and 6th grade class drove for social studies field trips. We climbed the Bunker Hill Monument, counting 294 stairs.

"Oh wow," I said. "I'm from Wells," I said, and it was nice to see the light of recognition in her eyes.