We all do it. We drive the same stretch of road time and again, never stopping to see what those "little brown signs" are enticing us to visit along the way.
Like too many of us in the pre-Ken Burns era, my high school history experience was more an exercise in rote memorization than a way to understand the human condition (or myself).
Coming home from my recent swing through the Deep South I found myself northeast of Columbus, Georgia on a byway. I came upon a brown highway sign—always a welcome sight to my eyes—that said "FDR's Little White House 15 miles." The arrow pointed left.