When my aunt Sharon and her boyfriend Greg pulled up to our house one summer day, my little brother and I became enthralled by the beat-up camper they had hitched to their beat up Volvo. They had quit their jobs, and were relocating from Connecticut to Florida to start a new life. Everything they owned was in that camper. We were mesmerized. That day stands out in my memory, serving as a sort of prequel to what I found out years later, long...
