An Obvious Metaphor ... Again

Union Station 2020 (Friday, May 15, 4:20 p.m.) 

Union Station 2021 (Friday, May 14, 3:00 p.m.)

Last year, I wrote that Donald Trump was a virus.

This year, maybe I can say that Joe Biden is the vaccine, especially since so many Republicans are refusing to take him.

But, a Trump variant has emerged, so there's no reason to think this is over.

***

Closer to home, while Torontonians may not be able to golf or get a drink on a patio, this May's lock down looks a lot different than last May's.

Last year, the streets and sidewalks were empty. 

Not so much this year.

Corner of Queen West and Bay, Friday May 14, 3:10 p.m.

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen

Bruce doffs his cap to the art installation at 
Union Station, May 14, 2021. 

 

 

No Longer a New Normal ... Again

This time last year, I reported I was social distancing in my dreams. Last night, no word of a lie, I dreamed that the lockdown was over. 

I went to the gym, saw my yoga teacher, hugged her and wept.

Next, Bruce and I attended a wedding. I left him to sit alone at the table while I picked a fight about a soiled tablecloth with one of the serving staff. She tried to shame me in front of everyone. But I knew I was right and no one paid her any attention.

Bruce says I need to lay off the Kool Aid before bed.

Nothing's Going on Now ... How About in 1990?

In November, 1990, I sent a short note to the Jewinskis about law school:

... I just keep on sopping up more and more of the law on the understanding that it will someday do me some good.... [but], the more you look at the law, the more it disappears. It's pretty well arbitrary, all of it, and the only thing more chilling that what Lord Haldane (see fun facts below)* did to the Canadian constitution (when it was just the British North America Act) is that people actually believe we still have to take his decisions seriously. Weird. Why not just say, "Haldane was a maniac operating under insane misconceptions more than 100 years ago. His decisions were bunk and they've messed up the country long enough. Let's make our own arbitrary decisions based on our own misconceptions and when they, too, become injurious to the country, let someone else strike them down and start again."

But that would make the law seem capricious, I've been told, so we pretend that Lord Haldane wasn't saturated with laudanum when he decided that the provincial powers were the only thing that really mattered to Canada. You can see from this how people like [Donald Trump]** get their feet in the door. Everyone is so busy being REASONABLE, that truly crazy people have nothing stopping them. And their whimsy becomes the law. 

Some things haven't changed.

Thanks for reading!

Stay cheerful!

Karen

* As Lord Chancellor, Haldane was a member of the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, at that time the court of last resort for the Empire. He sat on several cases from Canada dealing with the division of powers between the federal and provincial governments under the Canadian Constitution. He... showed a marked tendency to favour the provincial powers at the expense of the federal government.... 

The effects of some of these decisions have subsequently been modified, but they have had the long-term effect of recognizing substantial provincial powers.

Haldane's approach to the division of powers was heavily criticized as unduly favouring the provinces over the federal government and depriving it of the powers needed to deal with modern economic issues. More recently, one major study has characterised him as "the wicked stepfather" of the Canadian Constitution.^[53]

** Clearly I did not say Donald Trump in the letter. I said Hitler and Saddam Hussein, but, in the 21st century, those two sound a little dated when there are far fresher examples to use of over-powerful maniacs.

Your reward for reading the fine print:

Just Before the Second Wave Hits ... Again and Again

This time last year, I photographed a fallen tree in Queen's Park. Under lockdown, parks staff stayed at home, like the rest of us, their chain saws and wood chippers idle. 

I wondered in my blog post then about what seemed to me like a narrowly-focused policy reaction to the pandemic, attacking one problem (the virus) by creating loads of others. Recalling the words about the effects of the lockdown from a post a couple of weeks ago: 

we’re dealing with mental health, we’re dealing with despair, we’re dealing with broken lives, we’re dealing with overdoses, we’re dealing with domestic abuse, we’re dealing with child abuse... 

I also predicted Doug Ford's love affair with public opinion wouldn't last. It didn't.

But a year ago I could not imagine that, a whole year later, new COVID cases would number in the three thousands a day, nor that we would, in almost every other respect, be in exactly the same predicament. 

Leaf buds by the Necropolis, Cabbagetown.

Well, not exactly the same predicament. About forty per cent of Ontario adults are vaccinated, and a tsunami of shots is on its way. By the end of May, all you'll need for a jab in Ontario anymore is an 18th birthday and an appointment. 

A robin in a blooming forsythia bush - it just doesn't get more like Spring.

Another sign that things have changed is, last year, there weren't influential publications talking about a Roaring-20s-like boom once we've ridden the virus out of town on a needle. 

While that sounds like fun, we should remember that the 20s ended with the Great Depression, and that the Great Depression ended with WWII.  

So, while I'd like to imagine that the pandemic will end Doug Ford's political career the same way it ended Trump's, I'm not going to look for any other happy, historical parallels. 

Real life doesn't work like that. At least I hope it doesn't.

Thanks for reading!

Have great week!

Karen

  

Not At Self-Isolation's End ... Again

April 2020 .... I thought my hair was long then.

A year ago, I reported that we were over whatever had afflicted us and ready to venture back out into the world.

We're still ready, but there's still not much to venture out to.

Pointless Observations

The virus, never much fun to talk about, has grown exponentially more grim so, I've decided to talk about the Oscars instead.

Specifically, I've been thinking about old coots and the Oscars. 

In 1989, a then 78-year-old Vincent Price, still one year away from his last major role as a mad scientist in Edward Scissor Hands, looked stooped and aged on the red carpet as he arrived to join a bunch of other old farts in what won instant acclaim as the worst Oscars opening number in history.

In 2021, on the other hand, 79-year-old Harrison Ford, one year away from the release of his fifth Indiana Jones movie, bikes in  Mexico, flies planes (though they crash from time to time) and thumbs his nose at the notion that age slows you down.

The current title holder for oldest coot still making major movies is Clint Eastwood, whose Cry Macho will be released in October, 2021, after his 91st birthday. Most 91-year-olds don't have film premiere galas to attend; some need help dressing and getting to the toilet.

If I have a point to all this, I guess it's that the new Hollywood doesn't seem to be quite as tough on its denizens as the old Hollywood. 

The other point might be that an aging Boomer demographic still holds sway in the movie market. More hearts flutter at the sight of Harrison Ford's leathery, crumbled visage than Timothée Chalamet's dewy face and strangely-shaped head. 

Like I said, these are observations of no consequence, but it beats paying attention to what's really going on.

For example, I took this photo on April 13, 2021

And this photo on April 20, 2021.

Thanks for reading!

Cancel those travel plans!

Karen

My Nazi Granddad, Revisited ... Not Again

April 2020 - when what I chopped for dinner was the most interesting thing I'd seen that week

A year ago this past week, Bruce and I developed some mild symptoms, so we self-isolated for two weeks. To beguile the tedium, I wrote again about the pain my grandfather inflicted on his children because of his beliefs.  

Now that Ontario is riding its third COVID wave, and Doug Ford has announced more ineffective, draconian, harmful measures, we are hiding in our home again.

Even as a lazy metaphor, Groundhog Day isn't great for the current situation, because that story was about redemption. A more appropriate metaphor would be Cormac McCarthy's The Road, which begins with catastrophe and then painfully descends through harsh struggle to death ... because Doug Ford was probably in charge then, too.

As partisan as these remarks may seem, I back them up with the opinions of people who do know what they are talking about. 

Here are some from an article in the Toronto Star, responding to Ford's most recent ham-fisted proposals to control the spread:

Dr. Martha Fulford, infectious disease specialist and associate professor at McMaster University, said ... 

“It feels to me extraordinary that a year into this, we’re incapable of having targeted interventions to try to decrease the risk of COVID and not cause even more harm to the fabric of our society, because of course COVID isn’t the only thing we’re dealing with anymore — we’re dealing with mental health, we’re dealing with despair, we’re dealing with broken lives, we’re dealing with overdoses, we’re dealing with domestic abuse, we’re dealing with child abuse”...

And here are some from the National Post, specifically about the decision to close playgrounds:

“Most of the province has been in some form of lockdown since last fall,” Ford ... observed. “… The reality is there are few options left."

First of all, that makes no sense. Ford hasn’t tried shaving his head, wearing his shoes on the wrong feet or singing 9 to 5 to open every press conference.... Those “options” make roughly as much sense as closing playgrounds. 

The unlikely spectacle of The Toronto Star and The National Post agreeing on something, by the way, is #3 on my list of sure signs that the end times are upon us.

The consensus about Ford's latest wild stab in the dark extends farther than feuding news outlets. As part of his "I'm trying everything but doing nothing" approach, Ford has given police new powers to stop and interrogate people on the sidewalk and in their cars. 

Even the police have said they are not keen on further eroding civil rights to help distract from the fact that Ford has no idea what he is doing. 

Actually, Ford has one idea. He very clearly wants to vaccinate his way out of this. At his press conference yesterday afternoon, he twice held up a chart with modelled vaccination scenarios to make his point. Then, because the vaccination programme is in disarray, he blamed the feds for not delivering.

It's not the fed's fault that Ford has a bad strategy. If vaccine supply is outside of your control, it shouldn't be the central part of your plan. 

Ford's one idea is driven by the ideology of small government, and, just like my granddad, he would rather hurt the people he's supposed to care about than admit he's wrong.

Thanks for reading!

Stay safe!

Karen

Your Tax Dollars At Work - Pandemic Edition

 

Late afternoon, April 13, 2021, half of Sherbourne Street between Dundas and Gerrard was crammed with at least eight firetrucks and other emergency vehicles. The only odd thing, aside from the sheer number of trucks, was that there was no fire.

Previously Non-ironic ... Again

THEN: Avenue Road, north of Bloor, April 10, 2020.

NOW: King Street West, west of Spadina, April 9, 2021.

Along with reprising photos from my blogs a year ago, I feel like I want to check on any observations I made about Doug Ford. 

A year ago, Ford was riding high in public approval polls (69%) because of his response to the pandemic. For the record, I wasn't persuaded Ford was up to the task.

These days, as Ontario settles into its third state of emergency, and record infection levels, Ford scores a 50% approval rate. Even the National Post seems surprised by this. The Post speculates it may have to do with the comparative invisibility of the opposition leaders, so those polled most approved of the only guy whose name they recognized.

Day Drinking in 1988

I considered summarizing what follows, but I think I'll just give it to you straight. This is from pages 15 to 17 of a 19-page hand-written letter I sent to the Jewinskis in late May, 1988. The excerpt has been edited for length.

... we rendezvoused with Kate 'n' Ed at our apartment where we did a bottle of fizzy liquid to death and then retired to our comfy beds. The next day we met up with Kate 'n' Ed's friends and recommenced drinking. These people were highly-paid professionals who dealt with a lot of stress during the week, so they vented a lot of steam on the weekends. They stoked their fires with "Cuba Libres" - a full glass of rum with enough Coke for colour but not too much or bubbles would ruin the drink. [I decided on a different beverage, something ostensibly less full of booze] in order to reach a cruising level of alcohol in my bloodstream. It was still morning. I could see the drinking was going to last all day, so, in the interest of my own survival, I worked to meet and maintain an operational level of inebriation.

From the 26th floor of the Toronto Hilton where the drinking began, we walked along Yonge Street until we found a place to eat and drink. That was brunch. Then we went back to the Hilton for more drinks. Then we went to a place on Adelaide called Catalin's where we ate and drank some more. That was dinner. Then we went to the Spadina Hotel to hear the brother of someone in the group perform in the tradition of Woody Guthrie. Then we caught a cab to the Clinton at Christie and Bloor where Jack de Keyzer and his band played short sets between  George Thorogood videos played at brain-splitting volume. During a wild set of bone-shaking rockabilly, I fell asleep. 

My nap refreshed me and I was feeling my old self by the time the show ended. The group dispersed into cabs with the plan to rendezvous at the Hilton to drink some more. Bruce and Kate 'n' Ed and I grabbed a cab and yakked cheerily as the driver took us to the hotel. Kate asked the driver if we were talking too loud, our volume turned up because of the bar we'd just been in.

The driver seemed not to mind. "Oh, no, man," he practically screamed. "You are the coolest ever yet, man! No one in my cab has ever been so cool!" And so on. He babbled at length to us about many things. He told us that in his country, Jamaica, when "you come man, you know when you are coming, you say TAHEETA!" 

So we all started hollering TAHEETA out the cab windows, which drew concerned stares from the doormen at the Hilton as we pulled up. They didn't look any happier when Ed kicked a white limo that had, Ed said, almost run over his foot.

Then we were on the 26th floor again, drinking rum and Pina Colada juice. Ed had brought his guitar and another fellow had a blues harp. By this point in the evening, my recollections were dim where they were not simply blank, but, Bruce assured me, while Ed and the guy with the harp played sad blues progressions, I performed a long blues rap, loosely based on the confessions of St. Augustine. 

Thanks for reading!

Stay safe!

Karen

Kenneth R. Clarke's 91st Birthday Workout

STEP ONE: Get some cake and set it on fire

STEP TWO: Douse the fire.

STEP THREE: Eat your cake!

Seven Sundays ... Again

It's the first birthday of this photo of Ken's 90th birthday last year

The lazy metaphor for what we're going through is "Groundhog Day" - an allusion to the unaccountably perennially popular movie that makes a lark out of Bill Murray stalking Andie MacDowell. I assume I don't need to explain in detail how the protagonist relives the same day, thousands of times, before he stops being such an asshole. 

Instead of using clichés to mark our pandemic Moebius strip timeline, I will rerun photos from last year's blogs until we vaccinate our way out of this.

***

A couple of weeks ago, I attended the funeral of a person who had lived all of his 90 years in the same place. During the visitation and at the graveside service, I heard many folks say how they had gone to school with him, worked with him, volunteered as firemen with him, had known his two wives and his children and his extended family ... people who had spent their lives in the very same place.

I don't know what that is like. I have not lived in one place. My father's armed forces career took us from Vancouver Island where I was born, to Winnipeg (for four years), to Edmonton (for seven years) and finally to Trenton, Ontario (until I left home). 

I spent my childhood among other armed forces kids I'd just met and would soon say farewell to. I became skilled at making new friends and resigned to eventually losing them. 

That was life.

As an adult, I no longer had to live with my parents, so, of course, that was when they took to staying in one place. They never moved from their house on McQuade Drive in Trenton.

I, on the other hand, moved to Waterloo for my undergrad degree, to Victoria BC for my masters degree and then to Toronto so I could find a job. 

Old habits die hard.

During my transient years from high school to grad school, there was one friend I have managed to keep to this day. Mrs. Katherine Storey (she spells her name Kathe and I call her Kate) became my friend in Grade 11. We have never been far from one another's heart's ambit since, even though sometimes years go by between the times we clap eyes on one another.

There was a period, when Kate and her husband Ed were both working at the Oak Ridges facility in Penetanguishene, before they had their daughter and before I went to law school, when we visited regularly. 

On one eventful weekend, they came to Toronto to stay with us and connect with a band of fun-loving, hard-drinking friends from the 'Tang who were also in TO for the weekend.

I wrote to the Jewinskis all about it.

More about that next week.

Thanks for reading!

Look out for that 3rd wave!

Karen

Ken's birthday this year. We're indoors with him
and Ken's talking to his other son and his wife on Zoom.