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coverage went some- thing like this: “If the government doesn’t withdraw this Act—the Med- ical Care Insurance Act—there will be blood running in the streets—and God help us if it doesn’t.” Now this is pretty strong stuff from a clergy- man at a public meeting in tense times. And I think it was too strong for many of the opponents of the Act. And I think it affected the turnout at the KOD rally. I felt we should have sent Father Murray a Friends of Medicare Medal. You know the rest. Rural doctors began to trickle back to their offices and serving patients. The community

strokes. It can happen without you being aware.” When The Nieces spotted us retreating from Moira’s coffin they swept up effusively, hands extended. “Isn’t Stan with you?” they asked, looking around for my father in a half-alarmed way, as if they were ex- pecting bad news to pop out at them from nowhere. “Oh, he’s here,” my mother said, nodding toward a clutch of people near the door. “I must say this is quite a turnout. When you get to be my age you wonder who’ll be left to come to your funeral.” “You were such good neighbours to Moira and Bill,” one of The

board membership. They then called an urgent meeting of the MSA on the subject of this single proposed recruitment. The turnout was surprisingly healthy for an MSA meeting, and during this meeting it came to light that Mr X had reportedly been trying to make changes in a number of other areas as well in the re- structuring of the hospital. The MSA immediately hired legal counsel and voted to support a levy of $1,000 per active staff and $500 per courtesy staff, amassing a legal war chest of $500,000 in about thirty days. The MSA was wise in retaining Ms Z, a