Seventy Nine North
Most of the time I have to put a lot of effort into writing this column, but sometimes the columns write themselves. This was the case today. I had to drive up to Conneaut Lake and meet with a handyman who is doing some much needed work on our cottage. I haven’t spent much time there since my wife died, and the place desperately needs a caretaker; fortunately my neighbor there found just the right person for me. Consequently I found myself heading north on I-79, a trip I have made many times in the past. It was strange this…