I don’t remember my very first day at George P. Mackie Public School, just off Kingston Road in Scarborough. But my parents would probably have remembered. Soon after I entered Grade 1, my teacher, Ms. Watkins, sent a note home for my parents.
“Why is Ted squinting?” she asked in the note. “I moved him to the front of the class, but I don’t think that’s enough.” (more…)
It seemed an unspoken rule by the time I got there. Every step was deliberate, unobtrusive and (I hoped) non-destructive in this place of nature. I made my way through sage and other prairie grasses, closer to a mound where a couple of prairie dogs were playing. I didn’t want to scare them down their hole; I just wanted to get close enough to take a clear photograph. Then, I looked down and suddenly there it was.
A prairie dog emerged from a hole in the ground right at my feet. And he, or she, chirped at me, as much surprised to see me lording overtop, as I was to see an animal nearly under foot.
I aimed and fired my camera and got the picture. (more…)
I wouldn’t have known that she was my neighbour. But it turns out that in more ways than one, she and I have been connected. First, we have both supported the arts and those who create them. Next, we are both the children of immigrants. But for me the surprising aspect of our neighbour connection is that Aileen Hill and I both have Scarborough roots.
“I was born here,” she told me, “then, moved with my family to the Caribbean, but have now come back to Scarborough.”
(more…)
It sort of creeps up on you. You’re conscious of existence in the first few years. Important moments stand out. Some prove to be highlights. Others not. But, because it’s such a formative time, all the events in one’s first 10 years are instructive. I know. I was once 10 years old. And one thing I remember about becoming 10 was a first step toward adulthood.
“OK, Ted,” my mom and dad told me that July. “Here’s your first pet dog. She’s completely dependent on you. And you’re completely responsible for her well-being.” (more…)