Z and I exited 80 in Toledo (@ Airport Hwy), en route to my parents’ house for our annual New Year’s Fondue Fete, and we were met by a yellow billboard touting the virtues of breastfeeding. This was followed by Cleland’s Outdoor World and then Yoko’s Health Spa, where you can experience a massage, a hot shower, and truck parking available (open 9 a.m. to 3 a.m., so you know it has to be legit). Having grown up here, I was perfectly comfortable by the latter two, but utterly shocked by the breastfeeding billboard. I can’t recall what it said, but I did read it aloud to Z, who said, “What does that mean?” Anyway, I’ve been trying to find this particular billboard online, and haven’t. Instead, I learned a new term: Lactivism. I recall the Lactation Consultant who met with us shortly after Z was born. I recall that the length of the hair on her head matched that of her armpit hair and that she was militant about the act of breastfeeding. To each their own. It should be said that Z is wickedly intelligent, funny, healthy, etc. with only like a day and a half of what the LC said was “the most important thing you could ever do for the health and well-being of your child.” Anyway, I’m in Toledo, and that stretch of road–the airport, the billboard, the gun shop, the sex parlor, and then my Catholic high school were a warm homecoming fuzzy for me…