The Power of Words

Last week-end I returned home from holidays along the eastern coast of the States; Boston and Bar Harbour.  It was a wonderful time, and because I love driving I thoroughly enjoyed it; the freedom of having a vehicle, of having no “preset” or “booked” accommodations or agenda.  I arrived in Boston the first night and drove until I saw a hotel (I’d been driving since 7 in the morning and it was now 7 in the evening).  I stopped, a room was available (costly but didn’t care) and so I booked it for the night only.

Driving towards and through Boston was much the same as driving towards or through Toronto; another concrete jungle.  I chose not to stick around Boston and got on a coastal highway and started driving north, knowing Bar Harbour was north.  It was marvellous and the remainder of my trip was like that; relaxing, refreshing and totally unwinding.

I returned home to Toronto, my Toronto, last week-end.  It’s not unusual to hear sirens, and in fact if anyone asked me, “What’s the sound of Toronto?” I’d have to say sirens.  I was on my balcony reading.  I live on the penthouse level of my apartment complex and have a breathtaking view of Lake Ontario. I am also directly across the street from a subway station. Looking to see what the sirens were all about I was greeted with a swarm of police cars coming from all directions and pooling at the subway station; police officers jumping out of not quite stopped vehicles, running in all directions, including towards my complex.

Being a photo freak I grabbed my camera and took a lot of action shots.  In the early news that evening I learned there had been a double shooting; two young black men, one of which was in critical condition.

I thought, “Welcome home to your city, your Toronto!”

I don’t think Toronto is any different to other large cities and I’m sure if I lived in another city I would hear the same bad news about it as I do almost nightly here in Toronto.

When I was in Bar Harbour there was a young man going through the garbage bins there amongst the rich and famous; the luxurious yachts, fancy cars and folks who were visiting their summer cottage.  I had an opportunity to speak with several people who told me they were there for the summer; some on the other side of the island, others right in Bar Harbour.

I wasn’t surprised to see someone going through garbage and as I stood by waiting to take a photograph at a time when it would not be blatantly obvious and obtrusive to the young man, I watched the faces of people who walked by him.  At times he had to reach so far down into the garbage can to get what he wanted, only the lower half of his body could be seen hanging from the edge of the can, legs flailing in the air.

The place was crowded and people literally had to brush by him to get around.  In some cases it was if they didn’t even see him.  A couple of folks would point and whisper something to the person they were walking with, but as a whole, they just passed on by, insensitive to the man or what his story or plight might be.

As for me, well I too ignored him.  I didn’t cross over to the other side of the street where he stood erect licking on the ice cream cone he’d retrieved from the garbage bin.  I just stood and looked across at him and as I did so his face and eyes were “pointed” in my direction, but I honestly don’t think he saw me; his eyes seemed vacant and emotionless and he appeared oblivious to the milling crowds of tourists all around him.

What’s this got to do with “my Toronto?”  Well, in comparison the population of Bar Harbour (including high tourist season) is likely 1/100th or even less than the population of Toronto.  My Toronto sees people coming to live with hopes to make a living.  My Toronto sees people disappointed and disheartened.  My Toronto has one hell of a large population of people (young and old alike) just like this young man I saw in Bar Harbour.

I guess the saving grace of my trip to Bar Harbour was that at least I didn’t see anyone getting shot; that’s not to say it wouldn’t happen.  No place in America is immune to crime, drugs, alcohol and the desperation of those trying to just get by.

My Toronto, a city of over five million people, and we have homeless people, just inthe downtown core alone,so numerous they could carpet the streets.

Welcome home.