“Under the dimming overcast sky, my clothes already damp from the chronic regional mist, I’d walk over to catch the commuter train, which traveled above ground, passing through layers of suburban development, residences growing increasingly dismal and forgotten-seeming, until I arrived at his stop, which had the same name as his street, one of the local proper names, the name of a judge or sheriff or gambler from the previous century, which was used commonly in the place where I grew up and which evokes such a stew of memories, mostly bad, that to pronounce it for me is analogous to a certain queasiness.”