Son: Did you ever go to a speakeasy?
Dad: No, that was Grandpa. Prohibition; Grandpa made homebrew.
Son: But other things were illegal, weren’t they? Where did those people go?
Dad: Oh, that. I heard about a magical tree house… kind of like a cloud city; secret passwords, a doorbell and a ladder. Outside of Colorado, you know.
Son: So you were all gangsta?
Dad: No, more like a political activist with a guitar. Peace rallies, protests and Woodstock. A long time ago, but Rock ‘n Roll never forgets.
Son: I love hearing those old stories - it’s like Game of Thrones, beyond the wall.
Dad: White Walkers? Don’t get me started, that’s another story…