A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Four-Hundred-And-Eighteen

It is twenty five years to the day since my grandfather died, which feels significant.  The world has gone a quarter century since he left it.  It makes the strangeness of our current time seem even more apparent.  I feel like I am very much like my grandfather in a lot of ways.  I can't really explain or qualify that beyond just the recognition that we shared a similar disposition and a certain intellectual curiosity.  I can't help but wonder what he would be saying right now, what he would do in this particular moment of history.  Alas, all I can do is speculate and wonder what he would say and if it would change anything in terms of what I would be doing right at this moment.

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