Unwritten rules have it that dog owners introduce their dogs but rarely themselves. “That’s Steve and Frankie,” the guy at the beach says. “How’s Simta?” Luna’s owner asks, seldom asking how I’m doing. In the time of COVID-19, however, there’s a lot less talking. Conversation brings closeness, which for dogs signifies play. There’s no play … Continue reading The things we do for love
blogs
My weekend quarantine
It’s been months since I’ve found time for the weekend Globe and Mail. But Saturday morning, after a week of so much going on, I felt good snuggling up on the couch and just reading. Turns out the March 28, 2020, edition is unlike anything we’ve seen. Well, in a time unlike anything we’ve experienced. … Continue reading My weekend quarantine
3/ Don’t look back
I happen to sit down next to a jetlagged, soft-spoken doctor from Australia. “Don’t look back,” he says. He’s giving me advice to manage a brain injury, but it sounds more like a line from Orpheus and Eurydice. With 35 years in the field, he knows of what he speaks. Rehab taught me the same … Continue reading 3/ Don’t look back
All that remains
I drove past my old elementary school the other day. To see what it looks like now that it’s gone. To bid a final adieu.It turned out that demolition was still in progress.The eastern end of the Metro Toronto School for the Deaf was all but obliterated. A façade of first-floor windows, functioning as a … Continue reading All that remains
What love’s got to do with it
Let me describe her before she’s gone. Because I have a feeling she’ll go. That, or I’ll learn to live with her in a way that I barely notice her presence anymore. Call it my new normal. For brief moments, I already feel like she’s gone. After a nap. After a good night’s sleep. It’s … Continue reading What love’s got to do with it
The accident
The first day I didn’t ride in to work was Bike to Work Day. That’s when thousands of cyclists from the east, west and north of Toronto converge at Bloor and Yonge, ride together in a long, happy mass down Yonge Street and end up at City Hall for a free pancake breakfast. Instead, I … Continue reading The accident
Postcard from my brain
Mara didn’t really pay me much attention before the accident. Then, at 4:30 AM, a week after she returned home from hospital, she scribbled in her notebook I want my brain back. Vindication! Never mind the Although, also, secret, I think it’s all too much. Her words were gold. I was not, as she correctly ascertained, completely there. … Continue reading Postcard from my brain
Postcards from my brain 