We recently attended a housewarming for our newest neighbor. It was a casual thing, barbecue in the back yard, a potluck, wine in plastic cups. First impression: they will be an agreeable addition to the neighborhood. A restored VW Beetle is his pride and joy. She’s a retired schoolteacher. They’re from somewhere else.

We were all from somewhere else. In the thirty months since we’ve moved to the Old Town neighborhood of Monterey, I can’t help but notice that so many of us seem to be from somewhere else. Generally, we fall into two categories.