ONE DOES PITY ANYONE WHO DOESN'T LIVE HERE:

Almost Dying in the White Mountains (G. Tracy Mehan, III on 10.19.10, American Spectator)

Thanks to the generous hospitality of old friends, despite the taunting of my peers claiming that I was going on a senior citizen fall color tour, my wife and I journeyed to the lovely town of Jackson, New Hampshire this October.

Jackson is a place beyond the imaginings of even the most devoted viewers of the TV series Newhart (1982-1990), which, while set in Vermont, captured the imagination of this son of the Midwest and fortified my L.L. Bean fantasies of fall splendor in New England.

Neither we nor our other traveling companions, friends from St. Louis, were disappointed.

Crossing a beautiful covered bridge, we entered one of the charming towns which thrive in the shadow of the White Mountains and the towering Mount Washington.

We had arrived at the peak of the fall colors in early October which intensified every day we were there. The New England chill was invigorating and the sunlight was crystalline. The beauty was almost painful to behold.