I feel sorry for Peter Greenberg, the man who chose to include my sweet town on his list of places not to visit, I really do. He obviously has no idea of the life that we lead here. He has never been to an Variety Show, or watched the Holiday Parade. He has never sat in the shade by the Ashland pool, or cheered for friends as they finish the Railroad Run. He will always be a passer-by, seeing the motels and gas stations on Rt. 54, but will never be one of us. I imagine him as a sad Charles Dickens character who stands outside a house on Virginia Street while the snow falls. He looks in at the laughing faces illuminated by a warm fire, and realizes that he will never be able to join the party. So let's not be mad at him, let's just feel sorry for him for a few minutes and then forget him. We have other things to think about.