ABSTRACT
I left my hometown, Ironwood, Michigan, a good many years ago. The town I remember did not seem to have shrunk from the emptied iron-ore mines nearby, nor did it seem to thrive on the flocks of skiers and tourists that came through to look at Copper Peak, the largest ski jump in the Western Hemisphere, or Hiawatha, the world’s tallest fiberglass statue. Ironwood seemed never to change, in spite of the decisive seasons we endured.
