When I was little, Demeter worked at a clinic for kids with cerebral palsy in South Edmonton, on the opposite side of the North Saskatchewan River. One day, she was on her lunch break, trying to get some errands done, but held up by an endless stream of midday traffic and a light that refused to change.
Out of nowhere, a little man appeared at her side.
"You wanta cross the street, lady? You banga da hell outa dis," he declared, demonstrating energetically on the crosswalk button to my startled mother. "Just banga da hell!"
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