By Jim Hagarty
Beautiful music is medicine for the soul, to be taken many times per day in copious quantities with no possibilities of overdose and best administered intravenously through small speakers attached to the ears.
In the event symptoms persist, double the dosage.
In an emergency situation, play Vince Gill tunes for one uninterrupted hour.
If there is still no relief, call your doctor, providing your doctor’s surname is either Lennon or McCartney. Best option is a periodic visit with both of them.
And, of course, when all else fails, run immediately to your specialist, Gordon Lightfoot.
Or his colleague, Ann Murray.
Best Wishes and Get Well Soon.
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Author: Jim Hagarty
I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.
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