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That piece left me lost for a long time in a reverie. Generations—my ancestors’, mine, and my grandkids’. Wars—WWI, WWII during my lifetime; too many more. Memories. So many memories. Experiences—the good ones I’ve had, the ones I’ve wished I’d had, the struggles I’ve learned from and grown through. The experiences writers have shared with us. Extreme hardship—the kind that brings someone to end their life. Fascism—then, there, now, and here. Hope. No, I haven’t lost hope. Let me rephrase that. Yes, I still have hope.

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Thanks for that, Earl. I think I have generations on the brain because, at 51 and counting, there are now THREE generations behind mine: Z, Alpha, and whatever the babies being born now are called. There is a certain liberation that comes with age. I know, more than before, how much I don't know. But that itself gives me hope.

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