Excerpt:

Father:

Sometimes we had to be reminded, but the truth is, we had other kinds of learning, not just what a Teacher laid out for us. Your grandfather taught me to catch fish, and clean and cook them, and your grandmother taught me how to bake bread.

Son:

That doesn’t sound very efficient. Replicators are less messy and less wasteful.

Father:

Mm. So they are, but food tasted better, then. And no recreational program can beat the feeling of falling snow getting into your eyes and hair. It was annoying, but it was also magical.

(He sings)

I remember snow
Soft as feathers
Sharp as thumb tacks
Coming down like lint
And it made you squint
When the wind would blow…

Read the entire play here: 009 – 2402.10 – Remembering the Sky