Category: Uncategorized

August 15: I’ve had the great good fortune to have been able to hang out at various cottages since my first Birthday. Although I don’t remember it, I’m told that was the year when I almost drowned. My Mum put me in an inner-tube to float in the lake and turned around for an instant to retrieve something from the dock. When she turned back, I was on the bottom of the lake looking around quite happily. I’ve spend a lot of time peacefully submerged in various lakes in the intervening years.

I spent last week submerged in Stoney Lake at my Sister’s cottage. It’s comforting to see that some of the traditions around cottaging persist over time. The traffic was really horrible – nose to tail in some places. And the honking and jockeying for position along the way was un-nerving.

When we finally arrived, we discovered that the neighbours were creating a huge din that went on at all hours of the day. Calling across the water to the kids as they dove into the lake was a constant racket. Shrieking across the water to announce lunch, dinner and the inevitable snacks was a soundtrack to our days.

Indeed, food is really important to the cottaging experience. I’ve found that the warmer weather and more relaxed pace means that meals are smaller and usually more frequent. Getting the right fuel is important to a happy and active day and eating together is a great way to renew friendships.

 

And finally there’s the opportunity to see friends that you may not have seen for some time. Different schedules or a relocation may mean that they rarely come to the cottage, so it’s good to renew their acquaintance.

 

Cottaging is a frame of mind. Time alone affords peace, tranquility and perspective on whatever else may be happening in your life. It’s also a vehicle for renewing and strengthening bonds with friends and family, and of sharing views and plans and aspirations in a quiet moment. I’ve not had a cottage of my own for some time, so I am indeed fortunate to have had the opportunity of some time away among friends – especially during the hottest week of the Summer (so far).

August 4: Daffodils are a harbinger of Spring. For that reason, they are one of my favourite flowers. When a neighbour cleared dozens of bulbs from his garden I happily absconded with them and planted bunches around my garden. Every Spring I was greeted with waving yellow faces smiling at the warmer weather and sunnier days.

Spring emerges from Winter with blossoms, new greenery, and returning birds. Everything fresh and new, it’s a colourful season full of the promise of good things yet to come. It’s a time to be enjoyed and celebrated after the colder dark period that is our Winter.

Summer emerges slowly; incremental change brings the trees and gardens into full bloom.  Days grow long and fat and comfortable as sunlight extends into the evening. This is a time to be savoured and every year I promise myself that I will wring every moment from this wonderful season. Yet June 21 arrives as the longest day of the year and I begin to feel like the best days are behind us. Summer always sneaks up on me, perhaps because there’s no “landmark” harbinger to alert me to it’s arrival.

I was reminded that we are indeed in the midst of another Summer by the call of the Cicadas. Not one of nature’s more attractive insects, Cicadas lie dormant in the soil for up to 17 years. They feed on tree sap from the root system before emerging and climbing into the tree in search of a mate. It is their raspy, metallic mating call that is the sound track to so many events during the hot and sticky days of mid-Summer.

The Cicadas remind me that Summer is fleeting and now in the dog-days of August, I am in a frenzy of trying to make up for lost time. There are cottages to visit, motorcycle trips to be planned, and patios to be visited. Just in case I needed a reminder that time is passing, several leaves on the Maple in the courtyard have already begun to change colour – a harbinger if ever there was one….

July 19: About a month ago, I wrote about the changing character of some streets in Leaside as owners and developers demolish older homes and replace them with modern interpretations of “today’s home”. As I said then, I have a fundamental disagreement with simply demolishing a perfectly serviceable home and effectively throwing it in the garbage. It seems to me that a creative designer / architect could renovate the existing house to have the conveniences of a new house. And that’s a win / win / win: better for the environment; better (perhaps arguably), for the character of the neighbourhood and I think, less expensive than a demo/re-build.

So here’s a typical Leaside home. Solid brick. Likely 3 bedrooms, 2 baths and a finished basement – the sort of place many of us would love to call home. There are literally dozens of houses much like this one, so for a developer, there’s a pro forma way of going about the process of making money.  I suspect they can make close to a half-million bucks on each project. Based on some recent transactions, I suspect the math is something like: Buy the house $1.5M; cost of construction $0.5M; sale $2.3M+. I realized this particular house was not long for this world when I noticed that the hydro was unhooked.

Sure enough, in short order, the hoarding appeared and interior demolitions began. To their credit, the owner allowed Habitat For Humanity to go through the house and remove anything useful.

 

And then the inevitable power shovel appeared and sat for a few days. If, as I suspect, houses have secret voices that only some of us can hear, this one would be saying “No wait. There’s something wrong here. It’s not time yet…”

 

But, apparently for this fine old home, it was time and it disappeared in a matter of hours. When I stopped to take this picture, a man who identified himself as the owner appeared and asked if there was a problem. I assured him that there was not, but he called five times and left messages – which I ignored. I finally spoke to him to end the harassment. What he learned I don’t know, but he seemed extremely paranoid about something – perhaps the apparent lack of building permits and protection around the City tree for starters ?

So work is underway on this particular project. I suspect we will be presented with another clichéd version of the traditional home they just demolished. Call me an anthropomorphizing sentimental old goof if you will, but I’m sad to see these fine old homes disappearing. Guilty as charged.

June 27: The time has come to consider ending it all. I don’t mean this in the throw-a-rope-over-a-beam way, but I feel that I do need to consider abandoning motorcycling.

I rode for 2 years starting when I was 16. I then sold that bike to pay for school tuition and didn’t ride again until I was 28, so I’ve ridden for 40 years and have the scars to prove it. I’ve ridden everything from a Yamaha 100 Twin Jet up to a Yamaha FJ1100 upon which I rode the Peterson Road north of Wilberforce at a steady 140 km/h. My current bike is a Honda VFR 800 with 104,000 kilometers on it. I’ve ridden it to Maine at least 4 times; to the Cabot Trail once; to New York, Pennsylvania and Ohio more times than I can count. I’ve ridden in Europe three times including last year. My trip there with Melinda on a BMW 750 K to celebrate my 50th birthday still ranks as one of the best holidays I’ve had. All of this is to say that I don’t feel I have anything left to prove.

Yet there is a lot to lose and the cost / benefit equation seems to be shifting to less positive territory. Motorcycling is by nature a dangerous pastime. That’s part of what makes it exciting. While some of the danger can be mitigated by the right equipment and experience, I ride less often than in the past, so I feel that my skill set is subtly declining. Aging eyes and slowing reflexes don’t help.

I know from experience that it now takes far longer to recover from injuries. Minor injuries can become hugely inconvenient, but a more significant injury might be debilitating. As a friend said: “I’m not worried about dying on a bike. I’m worried about not dying; being seriously hurt and becoming a long term problem for my family.” I couldn’t stand being in a place where I was forcing others to provide me with care.

My riding friends are intent on riding until they drop – presumably from non-motorcycle related causes. One suggests that riding a bike “too fast” is a way to stave off Alzheimer’s. Having a passion for something gives us a reason to live, and motorcycling is nothing if not a passion. Motorcycling is part of who I am; part of my character. While the motorcyclist in me might feel a smug satisfaction to dying at age 83 in a flaming bike wreck in the south of France, we can’t necessarily pick the time and circumstances of our passing to suit the narrative we construct for our lives.

And so I have a conundrum: does the potential cost – monetary or mortal – outweigh the psychological and adrenalin – producing benefits to riding ? I’m no longer sure. That said, there was something about the bike trip last year that has me thinking long and hard about doing it again next year. So in the best case scenario (best or worst depends on your perspective), I would have to say that the jury is still out. And the rope remains in the basement…..

 

June 10:  I believe that Toronto was once known for it’s spirit of innovation in “urban thinking”. Jane Jacobs lived here for a reason. The City was not afraid to experiment and try something new and different. There are many examples: the 45 foot by-law height limit and subsequent Central Area Plan brought in during the Crombie mayoralty come to mind. The St. Lawrence neighbourhood development. The “Kings” regeneration project has been hugely successful and brought thousands of new jobs and residents to King-Parliament and King – Spadina. But somehow that willingness to think outside the box has also yielded some very mixed results.

For example, our approach to bicycle lanes seems to me to be constantly changing. The City’s streetscape is often a hodgepodge of different attempts to find a home for street trees, newspaper boxes, benches and light poles. Depending on where you might be within the City, their location can change for no apparent reason other than the fact that the design thinking changed. To me that means that the City looks shabby and poorly organized, and the overall quality of the urban experience is diminished.

So it was with some interest that I read an interview with Jorn Weisbrodt, the Artistic Director of Luminato in today’s Globe and Mail. While he was speaking primarily about artists and the arts, I believe his thinking is more broadly applicable. He said, in part:

“When I came here, someone said to me that Toronto is already world-class, the world just doesn’t know it yet. And when I heard that, I thought it sounded really bizarre. I don’t think that is actually possible. If you are world-class, it means that the world talks about you. Certain criteria go with that. Toronto may be on the cusp of breaking through to be a world-class city, but that’s something the people of Toronto and the politicians need to want. They need to take steps to make it happen.

…Berlin became (a) haven for artists not just because it was Berlin but because the government was very smart after the wall came down. They let people take over empty spaces in East Berlin. They deregulated a lot. They let nightclubs take over these amazing spaces. I don’t think Toronto necessarily understands the mechanisms so well.

…The Hearn Generating Station is a huge gift to the City because of the possibilities that the space has and what it could be. It could be unique in the world. Toronto does too much 10 years too late, and things that other cities have been doing. These comparisons that people make, that Toronto is the Little Apple, or that the University of Toronto is Harvard of the North. Stop comparing yourself to others. That’s what people in puberty do. Grow up – be your own person and seize the opportunities where you can actually be (what you are comparing yourself to). Artists will always gravitate to somewhere where there is originality, where there is courage and where there is the possibility of greatness.”

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/theatre-and-performance/jorn-weisbrodt-looks-back-on-his-legacy-at-the-luminato-festival/article30375308/

June 4:

Anthropomorphise: to attribute human characteristics to gods, animals and inanimate objects.

People have been doing it for years so I know that I am not alone. Pets are given names and welcomed into the family. Those names often reflect character traits we determine by assigning human values to their behaviours. Most of my cars and motorcycles have had distinct personalities. I’ve had my Honda VFR motorcycle for 15 years and I talk to it like a respected old friend. The Benzes were quiet and dignified, the Alfas energetic and outgoing.  When special effort was needed, I urged them on as if they could really hear, and when they broke down I cursed them. We all do it.

After recently writing about Leaside, I’ve been thinking more about the character of houses. Many of the houses are almost 100 years old, and like senior citizens, they portray a calm and respectable dignity. There’s a consistency to their size and appearance that makes them comfortable with each other. When I worked with architects, I often heard them allude to a “conversation” between buildings, and although they didn’t mean it literally, I think it nicely captures the  interplay between houses that we feel in our neighbourhoods.

Like groups of people, neighbourhoods have different personalities. Long Branch is an older area; many of the houses were cottages outside the city. There’s a real mix of scale and building materials that makes it funky and vibrant. The conversation there is like a cocktail party with a mix of guests. Cabbagetown, where I lived for 2 years,  is much older and has a completely different scale and texture. Brick Victorians and row housing makes it feel tighter and more enclosed. These guys have seen it all and they can tell you a really interesting story if you are prepared to listen.

Lately in Leaside there has been a rash of demolitions and rebuilding.  Having a power shovel appear on your front lawn must be the house-equivalent of terminal cancer in humans; you know that you are about to die, you just don’t know when. I often hear those houses saying: “No wait. There must be some mistake….”

I do not understand the attraction of a larger house – at least, larger than a standard Leaside 3 bedroom, 2 bath house. And I struggle with the concept of demolishing a perfectly serviceable home and essentially throwing it in the garbage, only to replace it with something new. New homes are often designed to mimic older homes. This is in part due to zoning that regulates the height and setbacks, and it might also be a genuine desire on the part of the new kid to “fit in”. The trouble is that most of the newer homes try to affect permanence and solidity with faux stone and stucco; it doesn’t work. I might be more comfortable with the loss of a still-useful and comfortable home if the replacement was a well-thought-out and distinctly designed asset to the neighbourhood, but most of them use the same design and same layout and same building materials and so they come off as lame repetitive imitations.

At night, when it’s dark and quiet, I imagine the houses chatting about the day just passed. If a neighbourhood is a conversation among homes, what voice do the newcomers bring ? What do these homes say about the values and beliefs of their owners ? What will they be saying in 100 years ?

May 22: OK Kiddies, pay attention. Today we have a history lesson and it will be on the exam.

Leaside is a relatively unique neighbourhood in the City.  The land for its’ development (1,025 acres) was assembled by the Canadian Northern Railway in 1912. The railway retained Frederick Gage Todd, a student of  Frederick Law Olmstead (who designed Central Park in New York, among other places), who then drafted a plan for residential neighbourhoods, commercial districts and industrial areas, all in support of a new railway yard and station in Leaside.

The plan was influenced by the design principles of the “Garden City” movement that emerged in Britain at the turn of the last century. The Garden City movement was promoted by Ebenezer Howard and others as a utopian model for the development of new towns.

British cities of that time were dangerous and horrible places to live. Living conditions were abysmal; there were virtually no social services; disease was rampant, the air and ground were polluted. Like all megalomaniac City Planners, the Garden City proponents believed that a well-designed living environment would lead to a healthier and happier populace. Their prototypical cities were designed with separate residential neighbourhoods mixing a range of housing forms. Broad curvilinear boulevards ran through the neighbourhoods and connected to the industrial areas. Homes and jobs were in balance and there were designated areas for shopping and city purposes. All of this was placed at a distance from the main city, and surrounded by permanent open space – hence “garden city”. This approach is foundational to much of the city planning thought of the 50’s and 60’s which sought to separate uses and create an “ideal” place to live. Don Mills is a classic example of that era.

Development of Leaside didn’t start until the 1920’s, and not all of the plan was realized. The key neighbourhoods and the industrial areas were put in place. As planned, Leaside was home to a major rail terminal and maintenance operation. The former locomotive shop has now been converted to a grocery store, and sadly, the station itself is long-gone but the railway remains a presence in the community. Other early industries included the Durant Motor Company, Canada Wire and Cable, and Sangamo Meters (who had a steam locomotive beside their factory as an emergency generator). Leaside was also a key provider of ammunition during the first World War, and is believed to be the landing point for the first air mail shipment in Canada.

Almost all of the houses in Leaside were erected between 1928 and 1953. My home – the Garden Court apartments – were built in 1930. Three farmhouses that belonged to the original settlers (John Lea Jr., James Lea, and Thomas Elgie) remain in place. Several blocks of houses were built by the industries so that their employees could live close to the factory. Virtually the entire neighbourhood, including several apartment blocks, is two or three stories in height and presents a very modest and consistent appearance.

Many in the neighbourhood are correctly concerned about major redevelopment proposals along Eglinton Avenue, and a growing number of the older and small homes are being demolished to make way for “monster homes” that really don’t fit the character of the neighbourhood. So Leaside continues to evolve. We can only wonder what it will be like in the next 50 years.

Map by J. Naulls. For more information see: http://leasidematters.ca/

May 22: The Garden Court apartments where I live, complete the City Planner’s wet-dream that is Leaside. The apartments were designed by Forsey Page and Harland Steele, the founding partners of Page and Steele Architects. Both Page and Steele died during the 70’s, but the firm continues to practice today. During the 1950’s, the firm employed Peter Dickinson who was responsible for designing many well-known Toronto landmarks including the O’Keefe (now Hummingbird) Centre, and the Benvenuto Apartments. The firm’s current portfolio contains many, more ambitious high-rise projects including the 60-storey 33 Bay Street and the 50-storey West One in the Railway Lands. Times have certainly changed.

Sharp eyes will have noticed that the Garden Court was an anomalous block on the plan for Leaside. It was a large, square parcel that did not integrate with the road pattern or land use plans laid out in 1913 by Frederick Gage Todd. Where other planned apartment sites along Bayview Avenue and Mallory Crescent extend about a half-block back from the street, Garden Court is substantially larger (at about 6 acres) and clearly a different animal. I have not uncovered the reason for this situation; perhaps it was a separate lot that was not part of the larger Lea / Elgie assembly.

Whatever the reason, the apartments were mostly constructed in 1930 – 31. They are all walk-up 2 and 3 storey buildings (some 4 storeys if you count the few basement apartments). The site plan continues the thinking of the Garden City movement. There is a mix of apartments and townhouses fronting the streets. There is a broad walkway perpendicular to Bayview Avenue connecting through the site to Berney Crescent. In the centre of the site is a courtyard enclosed by the buildings and formal landscaping and tree planting. Residents have direct access to “nature” and some of the ground floor units – like mine – have access to the courtyards from both the front and the back.

What this all means is that we seem to have a nice mix of newcomers and long-term residents. There’s a mix of ages, and possibly incomes, although the units are being renovated as they become vacant so the rent level is obviously rising. The courtyard system means that I frequently run into other residents, and we share news and common interests like gardening in the planters (one woman has done all the planting in our courtyard). The fact that we sit right on Bayview makes this the most convenient place I have ever lived – truly that “urban experience” I was looking for when I left the house. I feel fortunate to be here.

http://gardencourtapartments.info/

May 14: Today there are zillions of lime-green Maple florets in the street. In some places they are like a fuzzy green carpet. Soon they will be replaced with zillions of Maple keys as Spring continues to expand into Summer. But right now, I’m reminded of a day decades ago when those little greenies lay thick on the ground.

I was 17. It was the day when I took delivery of my very first motorcycle – my very first vehicle of any kind. I think it cost about $600 and I had worked part time for several years gathering the money to buy it.

It was a bit of a surprise that my parents had agreed to let me have a motorcycle, even though I’m sure that safety was a huge concern for them. People – particularly young people – had discovered small and cute motorcycles (“You meet the nicest people on a Honda” was an advertising campaign of the day.) and they were riding them with very little experience. Drivers did not encounter many “real” motorcycles at that time, and they were not particularly careful around these small newcomers. Safety standards, and helmet laws, were lax or nonexistent so many, many people were getting hurt or killed.

I visited the Yamaha dealer on a routine basis throughout the Winter to make sure that the bike was still there. And finally, as Spring approached, my Dad and I went down to the shop on Birch Avenue and bought it. Although it’s hard to believe now, I think that my 100 cc Twin Jet was the largest displacement bike among my group of friends, although I know I was soon pushed off the throne by other much larger bikes – 150 and 180 cc monsters.

Finally, on a day after school, I went down to the shop and picked up the bike. The first ride was back to Inglewood Drive where everyone was hanging around. I was so proud and happy as I rode up the street to join them on the corner, under the Maple tree, surrounded by a  carpet of green. I remember it as a very happy time. I had a privileged life: I had no real responsibilities beyond cutting the grass at home, and enough money for gas. Although I worked part time over the Summer, I had enough time off to head to the cottage for a couple of weeks, I had a woman who could be called my girlfriend with a straight face, and many friends in the neighbourhood.

We were on the cusp of transitioning from children to adults, and with apologies for overworking the metaphor, the transition of the Maple trees into bloom reminds me very much of those happy and carefree days.

May 9: The Saucer Magnolia are in bloom. Spring is here. Commence wearing shorts, Barbequing, and drinking rose wine.