Junkies

Welcome back! A pranked work station.

A couple of weeks ago I hosted an impromptu meeting with some of my neighbours at 280 Sherbourne to talk about a mutual problem. 

Our problem was one of our across-the-street neighbours at 251 Sherbourne Street, Toronto Community Housing Corporation's most famously troubled address.  

Our neighbour at 251 (Bruce calls him DJ Wormdick; hereafter DJW) has a sound system that he likes to share. Well, he doesn't share the system, just the noise it makes.

For the past couple of months, DJW has been blasting tunes at all hours and at music-festival-grade volumes. By the time I hosted the meeting, I'd lost about six nights' sleep over the course of some weeks. 

My neighbours at 280 and I had before then been acting independently - calling the police or Toronto 311; one neighbour even crossed the street and confronted DJW. 

That's a funny story. When my neighbour demanded an explanation for the ridiculous commotion, DJW explained "It's a civic holiday."

While our individual efforts were making some difference, the problem was not going away. My neighbours and I agreed concerted action was warranted. 

Part of that concerted action was to participate in a "safety walk" organized on behalf of the neighbourhood by a local councillor and the police. I didn't go, but two others did.

And that's when we realized that noise is the least of the neighbourhood's problems. 

Drawn by proximity to dealers and safe injection sites, junkies congregate just south of my home near the corner of Dundas and Sherbourne and in the laneway behind 251 Sherbourne. 

This neighbourhood has always been troubled by the drug trade, but I have not seen anything quite like this in the ten years we've lived here. 

Numbers defining the opioid crisis are about deaths and emergency room visits. Plus missing doses of prescription fentanyl. And numbers of pharmacists arrested for profiting from human tragedy.  

The number of users is possibly the greatest of all and for the most part unknown.  

At our meeting, a neighbour estimated that fully half of the people he talks to in a day are high on something.

"Really?" I said. "That explains a lot of what's going on at the Ministry."

And At the Office ...

This past Monday, I had a large store of uneaten birthday cake. I took it to the office, knowing full well it would not last the day.

But I also knew, because this is Canada, and even more so because this is Toronto, no one would take the very last piece:

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen