During the months after my father's debilitating stroke, his second wife divorced him, his bank accounts were emptied, his furniture disappeared, the cat ran away and a trio of booksellers purchased his book collection. When my father eventually regained his senses, he telephoned me with what really bothered him: "Where the hell are my books?
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About Me
- The Nag
- Niagara on the Lake, Ontario, Canada
- My virtue is that I say what I think, my vice that what I think doesn't amount to much.
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