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In the earlier years of their stay there, most students hated Moscow. That’s how my memory has it, that among the freshmen and sophomores, it was in fashion to be scornful of the town. To grumble and groan about all the things it lacked, compared to wherever they called home. For kids from more populous environs— e.g., the Boise Valley, the Pocatello-Idaho Falls corridor, the Twin Falls area or Coeur d’Alene — Moscow was a dumpy little burg with nothing fun going for it, and none of their old high-school buds around to make it any better.

For those from Idaho’s even littler burgs — say, Preston, up through Dubois and Whitebird, all the way to Bonners Ferry — Moscow was perhaps too big, too exotic, too intense, and again, too far away from the childhood friends who might have cushioned the cultural shock had they all enrolled in the same school together.

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