YouTube’s algorithm has led me to some unexpected places. Last September, it had me travel 2,000 miles, in the real, physical world, to the back patio of an Irish-themed sports bar in Cleveland, Ohio. Lake Erie loomed on the horizon past trees and buildings, and although it looked pleasant enough, it was also easy to picture the gusts of cold air that must swoop through these streets every winter. I’d been born near here, so I kept viewing my surroundings with an eye toward the life I might’ve had. When our waitress mentioned she was from nearby Lorain, I said I was too, but then added that I moved away in 1972. She gave me a confused smile, perhaps thinking I was making some sort of joke that didn’t land.

I’d come to meet the group of young men now assembled around me: Mike, a carpenter with an easy, goofy smile and an alter ego of Man Who Screams Crazy Things In Public; Conner, at 28 the newest and youngest member of the gang (although an old friend to all at the table), bespectacled, an engineer, the kind of fellow you’d want to show up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers for your teenage daughter; Jo, the only member of the group who actually looked like someone in a band (a funny trick, as he plays in 70-80 bands at any given time) and who spoke with the cadence and quick wit of a beloved supporting character on a long-running sitcom; Nathan, a family man and truck driver who later told me of his failed struggle to unionize his company; and Alex, a children’s librarian who was just slightly guarded, and slightly better groomed, than the others. During introductions, Alex pointed to Nathan, who shared his exact features, and said, deadpan, “We’re twins.”