Fifty years ago this month, my wife, Sandra, and our year-old son Elliott returned to Inverness from a summer in Southern California. What a reception awaited us.
Our home, the iconic main building of Inverness’s historic Highland Lodge, had been transformed during our absence. The blackberry-choked yard had blossomed into a landscaped playground keynoted by a magnificent wooden climbing structure. New paint gleamed in the entry hall, and the cavernous main room that had…