The first time I heard Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen, I was down at Saint Mary’s Hospital. All of the seats along the hall, save for two occupied by a sleeping child, were empty. We were standing. Leonard’s raspy crooning rattled the plastic ceiling speakers, yet the words were barely audible. Camille, my sister in law, paced the dim hallway, eyes bloodshot with her dark bangs matted over the lef...
