Having progressed from crawling to walking to being regally conveyed in a carriage to riding a tricycle to running, I began to have to address new and more relevant ways of personal transportation as I grew older. I was able to occasionally borrow, however briefly, a bicycle from an understanding friend. Late in August one year, I was riding on the sidewalk in front of Robertson’s house, when I lost my balance and fell to my right. I threw my right arm out to “break” my fall.
It has indeed been a busy summer for everyone. 2016 has been a peculiar, curious and rather dramatic year. A year of extreme change, upheavals, death, excessive busyness, new connections, sheer stupidity, life transformations and adjustments — nothing has been minor. It’s all been “in our faces”, screaming and shouting at us, begging us to take notice, pleading with us to address whatever is coming at us. I think many will be glad to see the back end of 2016 and look forward with hope to 2017. No, this is not a ‘year-end’ column, just a bit of reflection on the summer that seemingly whizzed by and all that happened in just that short timeframe.
As hard as it might be to imagine holiday songs battling it out, the plain fact is … Christmas songs mean big bucks. Over and over and over again. A Number One Christmas song can mean early retirement for the writer, with a nice pension income supplemented every year in December.
This must be a nightmare of a year for young weather forecasters. They probably get up in the morning, check a stone outside their 
front door to see if it’s wet, snowy or dry, and then fling a dart at a weather board, sobbing “Oh who cares what I say – it’s always wrong anyway. I’m never gonna finish paying off my tuition!”
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 