This is Not a Walking Blog

Belt Line landmark: Pedestrian bridge at Heath Street

The Belt Line - a former rail line now a recreational trail - includes Fangorn-like tangles of ancient trees but also Rust-Belt-like piers and abutments of massive, crumbling infrastructure. 

If I've ever walked along that part of the Belt Line before, it was so long ago I have forgotten. I was amazed at every prospect as I followed it to the end of Moore Park from Milkman's Lane. 

One More Paycheque, But No Pension

I jumped the gun last week saying I was off the payroll, as I discovered when I received one last pay stub in the mail on Thursday. I will not, however, receive a pension cheque this month even though my retirement officially commenced September 1.

Bureaucracy being what it is, my former employer noticed at the end of August that it made a mistake with my 1 October retirement date, which should have been 1 September. I'm glad they caught their error before they paid me money they shouldn't have, but this change has thrown a spanner in the works for my pension.

I've called the cheerful, helpful people at the Ontario Pension Board a couple of times to a) confirm that they know the date of my retirement's been changed and b) obtain their assurances that they are going to send me a new "election package", which I had formerly filled out (with the wrong retirement date) in May, five full months ahead of when I would start collecting my pension. They said they would expedite my file, but couldn't say when, exactly, they could send my new paperwork, nor how long it would take after that to start to pay me.

The Necropolis and That Other Pandemic

It was just a matter of time before my shade-searching pandemic walks took me to the Necropolis. Established in 1850, after the Potter's Field at Yonge and Bloor burst its seams, the Necropolis hugs a hillside spilling into the Don Valley. 

Enormous tombstones balance on precarious inclines. Those untroubled by heights or broken steps can explore the most isolated zones and find markers for young men - children really - who died of influenza at the end of the first World War. The Canadian Air Force had started up two years before and never saw battle.

This Pandemic

Children played in the yard of Winchester Street School when Bruce and I walked past on Friday afternoon. We hadn't seen anything like that in months. Tenet doesn't sound worth the risk of sitting in a movie theatre. I'm re-watching The Wire (for the fourth time) because I've watched everything else.  

One More Cousin

I joined in the DNA data sharing craze to find out about my mother's father. A couple of weeks ago, I found out something else. A person I did not know emailed me through Ancestry.ca to ask if I knew how I was connected to her birth mother. I did know. Her birth mother was my father's youngest sister, whom I'd always thought had had no children. The person who emailed me is my long-lost cousin - a daughter given to adoption. After a couple of days of excitement and exchanging information, I've settled back to having little to do with most of my cousins. 

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen