Edward Smith
Writer/poet and Historian in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
I imagine being left brained Old enough to have discarded illusions - but still with some ambition - I like writing, and will do this until I drop dead even if I never make a decent living from it --- expect to go senile at some point - at which time I will only remember television commercial jingles --- my death scene: in a quavery, old man's voice, I will ask my daughters to draw near to hear my last words. pointing a bony finger at them (well, ok, I stole this from the Alastair Sim version of A Christmas Carol): Mufflers, tailpipes - we do shock absorbers too - at Speedy you're a somebody (this is the refrain, which I will repeat as my soul slowly shucks off my mortal coil). Oh, and BTW, if anyone knows where you can get an ear trumpet, I would be interested...