Since I was in the Scranton area, I decided to visit my childhood home. This is where I lived until I was 4. I barely remember the outside of the house (though I am sure it has changed considerably over the years), and I vaguely remember the inside of the house, but I remember the yard and the immediate neighborhood like it was yesterday. I had an almost ‘Skinnerian’ childhood in Scranton, minus a close friend. As I drove to the house, I was struck by how everything leading up to a 2 block radius of it was completely unfamiliar to me. But that is how it is. We live in the space we occupy. It imprints upon us. Anything beyond that boundary escapes us. I wonder what escapes me here and now?
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