On our three-hour return flight to Detroit from Fort Lauderdale, I was feeling a bit nostalgic after being back in my old stomping grounds for two weeks. When I lived in South Florida, as the locals in that part of the state call it, I was 23 years old and more than a little green around the gills. A brand new college graduate of a metro-Detroit suburban commuter school, I knew nothing about being on my own, away from the comforts of home and the shelter of my parents. Jimmy and Elia always wanted the best for me, but they rarely thought that meant leaving home — or their sight.…