When I think I’m not so old, I remember my boyhood. If you read the first section of “Beaucoup Arlo & Janis,” you might recall I grew up in a house on a small hill, just above town. I could sit in my swing set and look out over the rooftops of downtown West Point, Georgia. I remember hearing steam engines as they’d ease through town. They did, indeed, go “choo choo choo.” I couldn’t see the trains from my vantage point, but I could see, above the buildings, the plume of black smoke from the stack as the trains eased through the far side of town. Also, I could hear the police “call box.” This was a telephone that was housed on a utility pole at the main intersection of the small city. When it “rang,” a klaxon horn would sound. Patrolmen then would rush to answer the telephone. They did not have radios in the police car. A lot can change—will change—in a lifetime. And so quickly.