sometimes i catch a look in kids’ (people in their 20s) eyes, a look of surprise and doubt that we (people of my age and older) were once young.

“po?” one young man says when i tell him to play something noisy on the bar’s sound system. are you sure? you really want that?

ay hijos y hijas. we grew up on punk and brash guitars and body slamming, even—as a professor of mine used to say—before you were a glint in your mother’s eye.

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