It’s 6:30 a.m. on July 30, 2011, somewhere in Massachusetts, and I can’t sleep, wondering why they call this place the Quality Inn. Maybe in some foreign language “quality” means “dump.” But the venue paid for it, so I can’t really complain. Instead, I recall a pearl of wisdom that was shared with me years earlier: “Keep your level of gratitude higher than your expectations.” God knows I’ve slept in worse.