40 years ago, I hightailed it out of Pittsburgh. Last month I came back to see what I’ve missed.

“Good Lord,” I said to Jeff, as we began navigating the roads from the airport. “The same crappy roads, winding all over the place, coming from all directions. Nothing’s changed here.” But my frustration dissipated when we drove across the West End Bridge. There was The Point, looking oh-so-beautiful, its burst of water eliciting a rush of emotional memories.