That VHS that saved me (more than once)
21 Feb 2026
In 1992, I had a VHS tape.
It wasn’t official. It wasn’t rare. It was one of those homemade recordings a friend passed along — the kind that felt more valuable than anything you could buy.
Every day, I would get home a little after 1 p.m.
School in the morning. Sun high in the sky. The world outside fully operational.
Inside the house, though, there was a different tempo.