How is it possibly April? Auntie once told me that elderly people believed that if they lived through the month of March they would live for another year. Her Uncle William Lewis (my great-great Uncle) lived out his remaining days with them on the Lewis family's Cable Head farm and lived to be 103 years of age. In his 101st year, he apparently went to bed the first of March and stayed there until the month was over – only to get up and proclaim that he would live another year.
Another March has passed and I too feel like I will survive another year. We met a massive deadline at work this past Wednesday - thus no blog posts in March on Neater’s part. A lot of late evenings at work left little for the imagination in the free evening hours. Weekends were spent playing catch up with everything else. Meeting deadlines, however, is always rewarding. It’s also a bonus if at the end of the grind, you are proud of the work you’ve done and how you did it. I am happy to report that I am.
Four years ago, I was at this time preparing for a summer Internship in South Africa. Needless to say, it was both exciting and stressful with all the preparation work. Somehow I also managed to write a book – Contemporary Canada – in the week between school ending and my departure for Africa. Not quite sure how I pulled that one off. Four years later, I am working full time and have recently survived another series of moves. It has been eight months since I moved to the north end of the city to accommodate a move by my place of work. This move had lessened my daily commute in half, but it also has resulted in me rarely going south of the dew line. When I do go downtown I find myself filled with nostalgia: whether it is walking in my old familiar haunts around U of T, window shopping along Bloor or strolling in the vicinity of Bay/College. It is always a treat. Even if it is raining.
A few weeks ago, I returned to my alma mata, the Faculty of Information [Studies] at the University of Toronto to interview students applying for that same Internship I participated in a few years ago. The latest candidate has been chosen and will she will soon be on her way to South Africa. I am excited for her knowing what awaits and am happy to still have a small part of play in the entire process. For the past two years, I have enjoyed reading the student's applications and talking with them because they inspire me.
Making the most of my trip south, upon completion of the interviews, I was also excited to return to my beloved east end for a Greek meal with friends on the Danforth. Enroute to the Danforth, I quickly realized I had also forgotten how congested the Bloor/Danforth subway line can be. Getting on at Spadina, I stood because of a lack of seats. Standing beside an old man, I was immediately uncomfortable to discover the old dog blatantly staring at my chest – so I moved.
Finding a seat after the car emptied out at St. George, I then found myself preoccupied with another old man who stood near me. This fella looked a little like pictures of old Scottish stock with his long unkempt white hair and beard, not at all unlike photos of Great-Uncle William. The one difference between this man and Great-Uncle William was that he was wearing pristine white square toed shoes, which oddly did not have a mark on them.
This man had a huge raindrop sitting on the end of his nose. As it had been pouring all day, it wasn’t startling to see a raindrop of gigantic proportions – what was unusual was the length of time it sat there. Relief set in when it finally evaporated in that yes, it had in fact been a raindrop and not something else. So as to not stare I looked away, and my eyes fell upon a woman nearby who was holding a shopping bag on her lap. Sticking out of the bag was one of those black velvet coloring packages to be colored with markers (those of you who grew up in the 1970s might remember) that had “BUTTER” spelled out in large letters. I am not sure why, but it made me laugh. The laughter quickly faded when a young punk kid came and stood beside, who had his iPod so loud it was instantly annoying. I quickly re-joined my fellow commuters in adopting the blank “I take public transit because I have to” stare.
It is April.
There are beautiful orange tulips in a new vase on my kitchen table.
A new fiscal year has started at work.
It is unseasonably warm outside.
I always thought of myself as a person who enjoys winter – but am beginning to realize I may need to re-think that.
Happy Easter everyone.
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