Once, when he was little and we were driving somewhere, my son took my right hand from where it was perched on the console, and held on to my middle finger like it was some kind of anchor.
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In the mid-80’s, we received a grant to study the effect of continuing education courses on the performance of doctors, developing what we thought was an innovative concept.
September, a perfect trifecta of nostalgic events, was one of those months when I think he got it right.
“We have to reduce your piece to 660 words,” he said. “It used to be 750, but…” The editor didn’t need to complete the rest.
I spotted it at a bookshop a couple months ago, something called The Untethered Soul, by Michael A. Singer.
I swear this is true. One day, sitting at one of our regular in-the-park meetings, I heard one of the group say, “It could be your dongle, you know.”
Like all of us, I’ve been watching the stories of the health-care teams — the doctors, nurses and others — working the overcrowded and impossible ICUs.
When I drive down James Street North just past the West Harbour GO station, I think of Peter Falk. Let me tell you why.