Do you have any thoughts on that?

Yeah, I'm constantly thinking about legacy and memory because the one my dad left behind is very, very vivid, incredibly impactful, both positively and negatively.

Don't get me wrong, my dad was a preacher who could talk, but he loved flipping CDs.

He loved selling his album when we would travel to the communities, and he knew how to do that as well.

So that was part of it.

He was your best friend most days and encouraging, loving, tell you he love you to the end of the day is long, but in any instant, something from his own past, something from his own unresolved life, dealing with anger, dealing with trauma, very, very serious trauma and not having anyone in his life to really work through that and just becoming a family man and putting himself in that position that most good family people do.

They sacrifice it all.

It sounds like you're dancing on a bunch of different boundaries, just keeping the music in play.

What is that like? Does that come with a load of expectations?

No, it, um, I think it almost comes with nothing.

It's an interesting fact that was bestowed upon me, and I've taken my whole being, my whole conscious, sentient being to really appreciate it.

And I thought, you know, it ties its name together, this place that I'm from.

And all different levels of people in one grade, right?

You know? And it, and, and so, I don't know.

I, I, I was in grade five.

I wasn't really gelling.

Yeah

... because they do cut, and a cut leaves a bit of a scar, and that memory is there to remind us of those extremes, I think.

Every time the house was blown down, it was a little cut on the soul, on the heart, and that heals with an apology.

That heals with, "Well, let's go for an ice cream now, I guess.

I'm sorry I was that mad," you know? But I understand that that effect is lingering, and we're programmed as humans to hang onto that, that pain, that injury, almost as a warning sign for the next time.

It's a survival instinct.

It's the way that we keep going.

Yeah