by Paul Levinson
It’s been this way all of my life. Like when I was in high school, and we’d be reading our homework assignments out loud, and some kid would stand up right before me and read pretty much what I had written. Not that he’d cheated or anything. I never showed my work to anyone. And yet he’d written my ideas, even using my words. I had a hard time proving that I wasn’t the cheat. “Great minds think alike,” the more enlightened among my teachers would say. But that was too pat. I knew something else was going on—I just didn’t know what.
It happened on the radio, too. I’d be singing a song, driving somewhere, and I turn on the radio and that very same song was playing. Yeah, I know that they played the Beatles a lot back then—still do on the oldies stations I listen to—but I mean, the Beatles have a pretty big catalog. What was the likelihood that Dr. Robert was on the radio right after I’d been singing it?