It’s the week between Christmas and New Year’s — that strange, in-between stretch where the world slows down, the clock forgets what day it is, and you finally have time to breathe. I was in Fort Lauderdale, grabbing lunch with my daughter, when I found myself walking straight into my own past. We were at Tate’s Comics — part art gallery, part geek cathedral. But right next door sits We Got the Beats, a record store that feels like a heartbeat from another decade. Vinyl walls