When I left for college, my parents took on a boarder in my old room to help defray expenses.
The violinist was a master of her instrument.
The fact that he scoffed at their so-called purity of style, declaring that any reputable Latin was standard and that matter was more important than form, brought him into conflict with the sect of Ciceronians.
What is most troublesome to me is that our residents — no matter how much we grayheads or graybeards model the approach to history-taking from parents — learn that the checklist on the computer screen is the thing to look at, and not the living person describing their child and her problems.
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