I spent about 45 minutes on the phone today with one of my childhood neighbors. We don't speak all that often, but when we do it's purely to reminisce and compare notes. Our calls are so infrequent that some of the same topics are covered and I treat it like it's the first time I've heard his opinion. I'm ok with that. He's referenced many times in Anywhere But Home (under a pseudonym) and got a kick out of sending me a text last night and signing it with that name. I'm glad he wasn't offended by anything I had written. Evidently his sister purchased four copies based on the opinion of yet another childhood friend who said that reading my book was like reliving his childhood and distributed the books to each of her siblings. It's amazing the details we've retained and the details we've forgotten.