One late spring early summer afternoon, I found myself hanging with a brother from another mother. Vince Hamlin and I go way back. I mean WAY back. We were and still are known as The Hamlin Avenue Boyz from the far southwest side deep in the city with broad shoulders. Chicago. On this particular afternoon as we swam to the bottom of several Stella Artois 12oz bottles and lit a fire under more than one 'Dogwalker' pre-roll; we found ourselves heading down a rabbit hole of conversation about "time". We've all heard that time waits for no one and it supposedly won't wait for you or me, but by the end of our afternoon visit what we discovered was time is actually on our side after all. How do we know? Because what seemed like hours during our visit turned out to be much shorter. Don't let the clock fool ya. It's all made up to simply measure movement from one thing to the next. Who knew?
Edward Hamlin
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