Lying between the Blue Ridge and Allegheny mountain ranges which bound the Shenandoah Valley, it possesses a rare serenity and innocence. Change has come slowly here. The same conservatism that has so gracefully preserved this land in a near time-warp has also, to a certain extent, retarded our awareness of the outside world.

On the other hand, Lexington, the largest town, with a population of five thousand, claims two institutions of higher learning. One of them, Washington and Lee University, is the sixth oldest in the country. This typically Scotch-Irish commitment to education would seem to be at odds with the rugged farming heritage which produced the obdurate and independent individuals who filled my childhood years.

These are the same people who trusted me with their daughters, who allowed me to search for a general truth within their very intimate and well-guarded personal ones. This trust was in part due to the face that my father delivered literally thousands of their babies during his long medical practice here. He would rouse almost nightly to drive out to their homes, uncomplaining and without question. His loyalty and dedication for those many years were repaid to me in that slow but unalterable cycle of reciprocity played out in a small community.