I love to visit marinas -- busy marinas, deserted ones, marinas with big boats or tiny ones. There is something about the experience that transports me back to my childhood. During those years, I -- along with my brother and sister -- spent many hours at marinas, or in a boat, or riding behind one.  We lived less than a mile from the Mississippi River, thirty miles up-river from Hannibal, where Mark Twain grew up. Like him, we spent a lot of time around the water. No wonder I love it anytime I can walk along a pier and soak up the sights and sounds.