Congratulations Mr. Feagler on your retirement. You may not remember me, the sullen teen dragged along by her father at Higbee's at the Westgate Mall and Rustic's, but I grew up with you, and to me, you finally get to realize my father's dream of Neverland.

You both grew up in Depression era Cleveland, read comic books and Howard Pyle, attended a "mixed" nationality high school, served your country overseas, married, had kids, and moved to the suburbs. You both smoked, suffered heart attacks, and lost your fighting shape. And, like my father, camouflaged under a gruff, likeable persona, you barely concealed your anger towards a world that couldn't live up to your boyhood fantasies.

You are a dreamer Mr. Feagler and I am happy that you made it to Neverland. I am glad that one little boy never grew up.