  Nothing’s changed, nothing’s changed. I look about this old memory I am now re-living, and everything from the writing on the wall, to the paint job, to the people is exactly the same (with the exception of a few oddballs). I love the constancy of this beloved place is something I know I can rely on. I love the respect I get from everyone, and the old summer friends are my continuous invitation to keep coming back. Nope, nothing’s changed. 
