I grew up in a small town outside of Nashville Tennessee. Since it was the County Seat, the courthouse was, like in many small towns, located on a square in the center of town. On many mornings, you could find the city elders (not the politicians) sitting together on benches outside the courthouse with pocketknives, blocks of pine and the problems of the world to solve. I suppose each shaving cut from the pine carried with it, as it fell, a part of whatever problem that was being discussed, until there was nothing but the pile left at the men’s feet. Whether it just became impractical, or was finally prevented by some city ordinance, the elders stopped meeting there long ago. Although the meeting place has changed to a local fast-food restaurant, there are still elders meeting nearly every morning discussing the news and issues of the day; and a new batch of young guys (in their 60’s) constantly filling the places of those who are gone. My Dad, now in his eighties, has met with these