The signs said it all: a silhouette of a colonial gentleman, tri-corner hat in hand, in a stately bow. Beneath him was the lettering in blue-on-white to honor the local high school Blue Eagles: “Welcome to Nazareth, Colonial Hospitality since 1740.”
The signs, one at each main highway entrance into the Pennsylvania borough — north, south, east, and west — held special meaning to me, because of the Saturday I spent as a 14-year-old helping put them up. It had been a project of the Nazareth Kiwanis Club, of which my dad was a member. When the Saturday of the sign project rolled around, my dad, who had much more important plans on the golf course that day, sent me in his stead. So I spent the day with a bunch of Kiwanians digging post holes and
