It’s been a good 15 years that I have turned everything in my world on mute — Mrs. Tait will attest, too — once a week, on Thursday nights, to crank up the volume on the television for Rex Murphy.

Listening to words stitched together to create beautiful sentences and just pausing at the percision-perfect second to emphasize a point takes skill — and God-given talent. Then to take those prose and apply it to news stories, some barely hours old, is icing on take cake.

That’s what Murphy does. His work on The National — CBC’s mothership of news coverage — is a weekly highlight. And as a reporter whose ultimate goal at the end of the day is to make the next day’s contribution, somehow, just a tad better, Murphy has served as a tremendous role model and mentor for me.

What if, I often wondered in what seemed like nothing more than a dream, one day I could meet him, shake his hand and thank him. Maybe, he’d even share a story, or two, in that unmistakable Newfoundland tone.

Tuesday was such a time.


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