A couple Of Days In The Life

We spent Easter Sunday under the cold, cold grip of spring or what will eventually be spring. So cold that I didn't take any thrilling pictures but I managed a shot of the Waterloo egg toss champs. They only broke two eggs on their way to the championship and they won their title fair and square despite the added difficulty of playing outdoors with winter-blue hands.



Next day, my number five son drove me into Toronto. I was recognize able as the wimp sniveling and moaning in the car safely travelling along the 401 Highway. The poor guy drove like an, uh, little old lady to keep me mollified.

This man is obviously a saint to endure that drive (we won't discuss the return trip).

Our goal was to remind me that I lived her for years and loved it.My Hal's ashes are buried smack in the middle of Toronto in a spot thousands of people pass by every day, and no one knows he's there, except his family.
We'd visit his private spot, get in some quick shopping at Kensington Market, a famous multi-ethnic area clustered into a very few blocks and top it all off with a ball game.

I was so busy soaking in the sights and sounds that the camera didn't get much of a workout but this sign got my attention--I know, I know, it's fuzzy, but it reads, "nuts Make the World Go round." Okayyy.



A while back during a politically adventurous summer in Toronto, many plaster moose appeared on the streets to be auctioned off for charitable causes. The two standing cheerfully atop the roof of this private home are wearing a Toronto Maple Leaf shirt and a Toronto Blue Jays shirt. You gotta love them.



Eventually we reached the Domed Stadium (it has another name but I choose to forget that) and we watched the Jays whomp Kansas city. We sat in the nosebleed section, us and an amiable crowd of 54,000 around us and we had a blast.



The thing is, I let the distraction of that ungodly drive keep me away from Toronto and it's a mistake. It's a huge, sprawling city with many skin colors and dialects and an unbelievable variey of foods and customs all somehow co-mingling.

I live in a town fifty miles away whose older population can hardly be described as either lively or appreciative of anything that isn't WASP and sometimes I think I'm going to strangle from it all. Too late to move now and besides, my kids are here and I love them.

I'm going to be especially nice to that kind son and maybe he'll take me back for another game and a visit around town.

God forbid that I drive myself into that suicide alley.