When I think about it, I have very few friends of long standing whose stories I haven’t heard countless times. I know they would say the same about me. Funny thing is, those people are the friends you most long to be with, to sit around and hear—and tell—those same old stories one more time. You sit in a circle of goofy grins, because all are anticipating the next punchline. Eventually, you reach the point when you interrupt to correct someone else’s story, just like a little kid. “You’re telling it wrong!” Could it be this is what cultures have done since language was invented?

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