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Researching the stories of our ancestors who departed when we were young, plus those who were gone before we were even here, is quite a task. Learning from a father about his father and the family dynamic that they had. I’m talking more to my Dad now than I have in years, and also learning how he was both close with his Dad, and at odds with him at one point, the way I was with my Dad, the way fathers and sons tend to be. These sentences are running on a bit, and have a cyclical quality, but it’s a lot to unpack. I’ve written a few pages of the newest play I’m creating which is going to dig in to this subject matter, but right now I’m soaking up the music of the time. Where does the time go?