In the 1980s, when me and my wife were growing up everybody still listened to George Michel. There was a bit of Hindi movie melodrama in every mind. Everybody was having babies, and everybody liked Tintin. Everybody knew that if they just worked hard. And did all the right things. A sort of paradise of family life lay ahead. I guess "paradise" is a relative kind of word. Well, I'm supposed to be a...n adult now, and I still can't completely figure that one out. But at some point, late at night, near sleep, the ideas and the disagreements sort of dissolve and you're just left with the people. And people were no different then, as they've always been. And always will be. Young girls get their hearts broken. Men and women suffer alone, over the choices they've made. And young boys, full of confusion... Full of fear...full of love and courage... Grow up stealthily in their sleep. That I guess, was a long time ago
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