September, a perfect trifecta of nostalgic events, was one of those months when I think he got it right.
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“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.
When I drive down James Street North just past the West Harbour GO station, I think of Peter Falk. Let me tell you why.
You may have missed it: a new star was born the other day.
It was a retreat of the university’s department of psychiatry, at the university.