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I have a heavy heart this morning. In fact, I have felt this way for the past month since I learned of Bruce's death. For 40 years Bruce and I shared so much together as fellow students, professional colleagues, personal friends, collaborators (on at least one professional paper), and rivals. Although he was a few years older, our lives followed a close parallel path.
We graduated from medical school the same year, but from disparate universities. By July 1963, we were together again in the same class at McGill University in Montreal for psychoanalytic training.
For those early years I do not have distinct memories, for we trained at different hospitals with dissimilar interests in psychiatry. However, by February 1971, distinct memories do come to mind, a few of which I shall share with you.
First scene: February 1971—a dark Montreal evening, but an important one for Bruce and myself. It is the evening of our first seminar in psychoanalytic training. I see Bruce parking his car across the street and in my surprise say, “What are you doing here?” His retort was simply, “This is something you had better take up with your analyst.”
By 1978 our lives and interests were coming closer together. Bruce was closing his private office in Montreal, and I remember offering to help him with the move to Burlington. Two years later, Carole and I joined him.
Second scene: 1985—three of Burlington's prominent middle-aged