The Poet Laurete of my baby-booming generation composed a "piece" about the tragic turning point of our g-generation . . . which was a take-out order from Dallas, 1963, if you know what I mean.
I stumbled upon its youtube presence by AI chance, or possibly by a simple twist of fate.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZWtzNJz1Q-c
If you've lived long enough to shuffle the 7th deck of this earthly house of cards, you will grok the meaning in cousin Bob's timely dirge.
If you are a child born of some other generation--before or after us boomers--perhaps you will detect some note of profundity in brotha Bob's offering on the sacrificial altar of time. . . whatever "time" is.
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