I was in NYC with my friend N., who was visiting. She wanted to check out a specific salon, but I spotted an old music store with some old ukuleles I wanted to check out. We agreed to meet later.

As I worked my way around the store, I came upon a man, mid-forties or so, playing with his children in a cleared-out area. He was the absolute image of my father at that age, and I told the man. I asked him where he was from (a small town in upstate Pennsylvania) and then, his name: Edward Madrak, just like my father. Freaky.