“Remember when is the lowest form of conversation,” Tony Soprano once remarked around a table of champagne, lobster shells, Paulie Walnuts, and some one-night-only broads. Despite his seeming disdain for callbacks to the good ole days, Tony Soprano remained a man often ruled by nostalgia. His admiration for the Gary Cooper generation, the strong silent type who took their licks quietly, informed the impending storm of dread that drove him repeatedly to the therapist’s chair. Whatever the New Jersey mafia had become under his watch, it surely couldn’t measure up to the hay days of the shy guys of his father’s generation. Read More