Then I loved this play and then I was scared of this play – – I told you it was a rollercoaster of a night.  What I loved about the play was its sentiment.  It was proudly mushy.  I was struck by how the language and actions of a family are repeated generation after generation and become cherished gifts.  Little jokes about baking cakes and keeping goldfish bring a great deal of comfort to future generations.  The kitchen is a place where a family meets, fights, and grows.  Then halfway though the play as the lead character was approaching middle age things changed.  The bell that was played each time the years advanced began to ring out more regularly and each time it rang another tragedy occurred: the death of one child, the broken family of a son, the infidelity of the husband, the demential of a son, the death of an ex – – – on and on to death.  This scared me.  Was the last portion of life going to be remembered as a series of losses and pains.  Yikes!  I hope not.  I had thought this play would return to its joyful silly opening, but it stayed this rather grim reminder of the price of aging.