Recognition

Another way to bird watch in Toronto. This is Ross Ward, just recently returned to the spot outside the coffee shop (was once a Starbucks, then the pandemic hit) at the N/E corner of Wellesley and Yonge. At various locations around the city, he carves and sells little wooden birds on the street. 

I failed a couple of impromptu visual acuity tests this past week.

The first was Wednesday morning when I witnessed an altercation between a cyclist and a driver. (I know. That never happens in Toronto.) Watching from my second floor window, I saw the cyclist use his bike as a weapon to attack the driver. Concerned that the dispute was escalating, I ran downstairs. My plan was just to stand on my front step. When people know they're being watched, their behaviour improves.

In the five seconds it took me to get outside, the fracas had calmed a bit, but the cyclist was still riled up and spouted the most astonishing vitriol at the driver. The driver stood by his vehicle, his front driver's side door open, and recorded the rant on his phone. That's when he noticed me and waved. I waved back and said "I saw him attack you with his bike."

That's when the cyclist, who had his back to me, realized I was there. He suddenly lost all interest his rant. 

The disturbance over, I wished them both a good day and went inside. 

I made a note of what I could recall about the physical appearance of the two men (white guys, about the same height, the cyclist about 10 kg heavier than the driver, both in their 40s, the cyclist had sunglasses, the driver regular glasses with a dark rim). As far as I was concerned I'd never seen either of them before in my life.

So you can imagine my surprise when, about an hour and a half later, the driver of the car was in my front hallway. Until four years ago, he was my neighbour. He comes around regularly because his ex-wife and two children still live at this address. 

He was mortified that I'd seen him lose his temper with a cyclist. I was mortified that I had not recognized him at all.  

I failed the second test when a friend showed me photos of me and Bruce from 1981, which provided conclusive proof that the hair on our heads has, over time, been transformed into fatty tissue and redistributed around our middles. 

One photo had four of us on a couch, me, our friend Jamie, Bruce and someone I did not recall at all.

"Who's that?" I asked.

"Me," said my friend.

Thanks for reading!

Karen