Listen as another track plays shackleless on the funk-toothed jukebox. Witness joyful days move supple as laundry on a spring day clothesline. Better to join those days now than to lay any heavy regrets at death’s doorstep. Not to worry if your voice sounds more like broken glass and wilted flowers. Intoning oblivion’s interval on the musical scale doesn’t mean you cannot sing your way back into the light. Just like being quiet doesn’t mean you’re not alive. Just like being in mourning doesn’t mean you cannot shine your way back into morning.