Dear Thirties, You are a centrifugal force to be reckoned with: this, I concede from the outset. My twenties, inaugurated at a Madison bar with a fake ID, a naïve rapture at the eloquence of History PhD students, and nary a headache following quantities of alcohol that would now waylay me for days, have nothing on you. I have felt your steady creep, your spreading ... [Continue Reading]