At the end, the personal effects from my desk and a filing cabinet fit into two banker’s boxes, neither bulging at the seams.
The memories, if they weren’t abstract, would have filled a moving van.
After almost 30 years spent during two stops, after several thousand bylined stories and a few million words, I took my leave from the Montreal Gazette mid-afternoon last Friday.
Amid lengthening shadows stretching down Ste. Catherine St., the city’s decades-ago “usual-route” Stanley Cup parade path, I considered my new writing home two blocks to the east and one to the north – the 26th-floor Montreal offices of the National Hockey League.