If I could relive just a few moments of history, right now, I'd really like to set back the clocks six or eight years to my grandparent's dinner table, after supper, when only stray knives and glasses half-filled with punch or melting ice cubes decorate the table. Annoying all my cousins and parents, per usual, I'd clank and tinker off-key tunes on the cups, with the knives, with Joe.
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