You grew up in Fremont, Indiana, a quiet town. It was always quiet. You remembered picking sunflowers with your cousin Dana during the warm summers. You remember Dadda and Mama, Nanna and Nonno, Aunt Jill And Uncle Casey at your ballgames in the spring. You remembered scoring the final home run, and Uncle Casey giving you and your sister, Mae Elise, each a pack of fruit-stripe gum. Summers were good.