On the weekends, he would drive to Montreal in his Golden Eagle Trans Am. When he didn’t come to Montreal, he would call me on the phone. If he couldn’t call me, he would write me a letter. Not just any ordinary letter, a love letter. I still have them. In one of his letters he wrote that he envisioned us “In a gold carriage being pulled by white horses into a sky destined for love”. I blushed from that line. It has stayed with me for over (gulp!) 35 years. That was romantic writing.