The fledgling nest never matches an old bird's memory. A family of cowbirds has moved in. Or maybe the tree is gone and there's a tennis court or gas station in its place. Return to your childhood home and find it bears no resemblance to the place where you grew up. The houses in the hood are smaller; some of their roofs are sagging. The neighbors have all moved or passed on. That safe, familiar suburb and the people who gave it its vibe are long gone. Even the smell is different. Only in your imagination, and in cyberspace, can you truly go home again. That brings us here, to this blog. It's been neglected, and yet, no cowbirds have moved in. It's not been paved over. The roof is intact. "I miss your writing," said the last, lonely commenter. How can I stay away with encouragement like that? Here's what's kept me occupied: Moulding young minds (mwahahahaha) is time consuming, or rather, all-consuming, especially when you're new at it. B...