1980

Night fell casually, like a dress dropped before a bath. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked; here, it was not cliche, just barking. He worked quickly to capture America's heartland in the evening light. She moved like a skater, maybe because she was one. Page Polk Lipe liked the life she'd made in Minneapolis with her husband, Jay, although she was a foreigner. She came from New Jersey. Page and Jay were proud of their children, Chandler and Carson. Everyone on their block knew each other and watched out for each other's kids and houses. Personal checks were accepted most everywhere, and all they asked was, "Is everything on the front correct?"

In that same Minnesota city SteveSmith found himself in a hospital emergency room. He worked there, a doctor saving lives. But sometimes amid all the pain and horror, Smith could let his mind wander to the North Woods, the beautiful rivers and lakes, the wonder of Lake Superior. Only hours from wolves! And in the winter, he could ski like a Norseman, sled, skate, and play hockey almost as well as the eight-year-old kids who skated around him, unaware of the miracles his hands may have wrought only hours before. Or, he might think about his 15 weeks of vacation per year. Plenty of time to spend with the love of his life, though he would not share her name.

Carl Tubbs found summer coming to a close in Stillwater, Minn., as early as September. He and wife Chris, along with sons Kyle and Kent, said farewell to mosquitoes and looked forward to changing leaves, brisk mornings, and fall harvests. An ophthalmologist, Carl dedicated his life to vision. Laurel Smith had loved her life in Silicon Valley. Though the freeways were crowded and work was stressful, she and Kevin enjoyed their skiing trips to the mountains only four hours away. The birth of their child in 1992 changed all that; ski trips with a six-week-old took six hours one way. Laurel and Kevin sat down at the dining room table and opened an atlas. They looked for a city where they could work and ski: Boise. Six weeks later, they moved there. Idaho was a big change from California. More potatoes and less people. There was NO Nord stroms. Still, they no longer speak of moving back and have setded in Idaho to stay.

Robert and Lori Rough moved to Little Rock six years ago. Rob started a leveraged buyout fund in 1994 with a friend. Life in Little Rock was easy—no traffic to speak of, no lines at the movies, no crowds at the stores, and the outdoors nearby. Family remained important for Little Rock and for the Roughs, parents of two young children. Civility stayed important too. You might go to church, be in Boy Scouts, or have friends in common with the person across the negotiating table or on the other side of the courtroom. Even so, Rob knew plenty of folks in Little Rock who went east with a man from Hope only to learn what a town without pity can do. Kathryn Flitner found herself back in Greybull, Wyo. Her son Blake learned to rope calves on his mustang, Two Feathers. They rediscovered themselves and their strength in this tiny community with no movie theater, one stop light, and one grocery story. There are no covered bridges, but a gaping canyon, rugged badlands, and mountain vistas that reinforce daily a sense of infinite possibility. They are truly blessed.

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