When we left off, I was obsessing about our custom-made, pinkish-brown sectional. I didn't spend all of my time obsessing—we may not have picked the perfect color, but that sectional was darn comfortable. The absurdity of my "problem" brought back a childhood memory. Because our dad worked for the railroad, our vacations consisted of taking the train from Portland, Oregon, to Rochester, Minnesota to stay with our grandma, aunts, uncles and cousins—quite an adventure, but that's another story. One day, I happened to be tagging along with my aunt when she stopped at her neighbor's home in (what I now realize) was their middle class neighborhood...
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