The only poignant note at my high school reunion was to find out a very dear friend, my first vocal teacher, mentor, choir director and organist died in a “single vehicle”accident several years ago. He’d probably be in 70’s if were living. I suspect he terminated his own life — probably due to a terminal illness diagnosis. He had told me on several occasions he would probably end his life by crashing his car into a concrete abutment. John Herbert Purdy, the man I could call my “father”(My biological father only participated in my life as a visitor once or twice a month for a couple of hours ever since my parents separated and then divorced when I was 13.). My second “vocation”as chorister and singer was greatly encouraged by this man. And, as I have said before, I met my wife in his choir and I know he was instrumental in nudging me towards getting to know this loving woman: “I have these two ballet tickets I can’t use, why don’t you take Julie?”Since he moved away from Toronto and I had moved out to Mississauga we had lost touch: probably on purpose. John liked to move every once in awhile and “start over again.”As a church organist he usually stayed on three years; after that time period church people usually seemed to take him for granted. He hated that. About ten years ago he did manage to come to a concert, I forget if my wife or I were soloists or not at that time. Anyway, I’m sure he knew that we were still together (married 25 years next month!) and still singing.