Time Is Too Much With Us
I just found myself in tears as I listened to an album, one I first listened to in 1975, in Charlottetown, PEI, as a freshly minted reporter at the fine old age of 19-going-on-20. I listened to it with Janet Sears, one of my newsroom colleagues, and one of my closest friends at the time. She was a sweet-faced, wryly funny
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