Puppies

The snow had cleared enough by Sunday that I was able to drive to a barely-shovelled parking lot near a subway station. Then subway service was being impeded by a huge crowds trying to get downtown to show support for the Iranian community. Despite these challenges, I carried on. I had puppies to visit!

My granddaughter Sophie had excitedly told me about a new sport – PuppyYoga! I had taken yoga classes when we lived in King City. I had heard about Hot Stone massage where hot stones were placed on your back to untie the knots. I had also read about Goat Yoga where baby goats climbed on your back to work out the kinks. But Puppy Yoga was a new one for me.

Sophie had gone with her mother in the fall. She enthused about lying on mats on the floor and trying to do yoga moves, as cute little golden retrievers climbed all over, snuggling into shoulders and tummies. So for Christmas I gave her an invitation to join me in an hour of Puppy Yoga. I found a “studio” near a subway stop where we could meet for our class, and a shawarma restaurant where we could have lunch afterwards. We were all set.

Our subway ride took us both longer than we had planned, due to the excessive crowds. We met at Yonge and Davisville and started walking. The sidewalks on our route were not in good shape: some cleared only a few inches wide, and some only stamped down into slippery grooves by earlier pedestrians. After half an hour we found the studio and all the other participants waiting for us.

We arranged ourselves on our mats and the yoga instructor began with some simple stretches. As she moved into more formal yoga poses, the puppies arrived: brown and white British Pugs, some big, some tiny, began wandering around on our mats and under our feet. Yoga was quickly forgotten as everyone sat or lay on the floor and began patting and snuggling amidst “oohs” and “aahs.”

The yoga instructor kindly told us that it was OK to take some moments with the puppies in between Warrior and Goddess poses. She understood that the wrinkly little sweeties were our first priority. She encouraged us to take photos as often as we wanted. A couple of families had come to celebrate a birthday. They got special opportunities for group photos, surrounded by puppies.

Sophie was in love. She coaxed the little guys closer by jingling puppy toys in their direction. Soon she had one sleeping on her shoulder. Then a staff member realized that Sophie was wearing a hoodie and this spot would make a perfect picture. I began thinking that maybe we could sneak one home in this perfect pouch.

Our hour was up all too soon and we said a reluctant good bye to the puppies. Sophie and I headed towards the shawarma restaurant. But our challenges were not over – this restaurant was take-out only, with no seating. We tried a Mexican spot nearby – also without seating. So we had to settle for Tim Horton’s. But our minds weren’t on the food anyway – we were still thinking about how those cute little puppies had made our day.

Sue

Snow Man

On Sunday, as the winds howled, and the snow fell for hours, I was stuck inside. l got thinking about a possible topic for today’s post. I almost felt duty-bound to write about the latest shocking murders in Minneapolis. Or maybe I should tell you how “our boys,” the Blue Jays, are taking us to the cleaners with sky-high ticket prices because of last year’s success. Or perhaps I’d give a little jab at any Canadian who dares to criticize Mark Carney’s brilliant speech in Davos.

Then yesterday I changed my mind and grabbed my camera instead. We all awoke to bright sunshine radiating off sparkling piles of snow and I thought “Wow. This is beautiful! How lucky we are to have the change of seasons.” (Of course we also have indoor heating, and warming shelters, lots of salt, ploughs working around the clock to keep us going, and Snow Days. But I digress).

By 9:00 am. our neighbours were all out shovelling – two mothers and a son clearing sidewalks in front of their house, an older man across the street making a space for his car to back out, three teen-agers going house to house looking for shovelling work, and the kids next door heading to the hill with their sleds. Everyone seemed filled with energy.

After his second coffee, Peter put on his warm coat, boots and gloves, and even his hat which has been the butt of many jokes. He went out the back door to get his shovel. But where was his shovel? It’s usually standing right beside the back door, within easy reach when needed. But it wasn’t there. Had Canadian Tire run out of shovels and forced someone to steal ours? But there were no tracks. Could a Russian drone have picked it up? Or… could it be buried in a snowbank?

Peter got the kitchen broom from the cupboard and began his search. He brushed off the top step. He brushed his way to the nearby window well, where he spied a bit of red plastic. He inched forward on his knees and reached down. And up came his shovel. After shovelling a pathway to the walk on the side of the house, he gathered up the compost from inside and went cross-country to the big compost bin outside.

By then Peter was exhausted. He came inside for lunch and a quick nap. But he couldn’t sleep. The driveway was calling him. So he went into the garage and found the snow-blower which his son Daniel had given him several winters ago. It was practically unused. After searching a while for a suitable extension cord, Peter plugged it in and got started. The little snowblower looked a bit anxious about the daunting piles of snow ahead of it, but it chugged forward and back throwing snow to the sides of the driveway. I could almost hear it saying “I think I can, I think I can.”

And together they did. In less than an hour the driveway was cleared, ready for the cars to take us out. The pathway to the front door was cleared, ready for the mailman to bring us more flyers. And Peter had finished his day as the Abominable Snowman.

Yesterday was an exhilarating break from our usual day to day routines and worries, as we gave in to nature’s power; and beauty.

Sue

Old Folks and Newish Buildings

Last week, on one of the many snowy days, Peter and I had to escape. Peter was tired of shoveling and I was tired of cooking. We needed to focus on something besides our TV screen.

A few weeks ago we had seen an article in the Toronto Star which detailed some unique architecture, combining old and new, in downtown Toronto. Why not go and see that? Driving to the GO train or our nearby subway station were not options because our street was not ploughed. So, in a burst of energy, Peter said “Let’s Walk!”

Fortunately he only meant we would walk to the end of our street where we would get a bus to the subway. We bundled up and began our little hike. It was tough going through the snow and up the hill. We were the only people foolish enough to be outside. Just before we reached the bus stop, the bus went by. Was this a sign to turn back?

But we carried on: walking to the next stop and waiting for the next bus to come along. We climbed on thankfully and finished our journey on the subway east and then south. Finally we were downtown at our first building: 2 Queen St West.

This building is a pleasing mixture of old and new. The old part on the bottom was a men’s clothing store in 1895, then a bank, a record store, and a Woolworth’s. Then, in the mid 1990’s, 2 well-known Toronto architecture firms partnered to design the glass pedestrian bridge over Queen St, and connecting this building to the Toronto Eaton Centre. The glass addition to 2 Queen St. West was an obvious choice. The top is designed as restaurant space but is so far uninhabited.

As we waited to make our way south through the slushy Queen-Yonge intersection, we had time to look up. And there was the Bank Of Montreal, built in 1905. The inside lobby is transformed into a trendy restaurant with a walkway to the Toronto underground path. The rest is commercial space. Across the street, we saw the Fairweather Building, constructed in 1897. While the commercial part is now operated by Moore’s clothing store, the beaux arts facade is built into the modern Scotiabank Plaza.

The other buildings on our route were much farther south, on Queen’s Quay. As we wandered along, we admitted that our feet were getting cold from slogging through snow and our stomachs were rumbling too. In a moment of brilliance, we decided to head west on Front St. and visit the most famous Toronto heritage building – Union Station, built between 1914 and 1927.

This heritage treasure, Peter’s first view of Toronto when he came from Italy in 1958, is now surrounded by the CN Tower and glass skyscrapers. One of the other modern aspects of the place is a massive food court in the basement, offering multicultural foods galore. We filled up our stomachs and warmed our feet. Then we stepped onto the subway and went towards home.

The walk from the bus to our house was downhill all the way, as we dreamed of settling on the couch with tea and cookies. Our outside winter adventure had been long enough. The buildings on Queen’s Quay will have to wait till spring.

Stay warm, dear readers.

Sue

Friendly Restaurants

Last Friday I met 2 friends at a restaurant in a plaza on Lawrence Ave. This place fulfilled our lunch requirements: it was easily accessible, and it had some interesting food items on the menu. The choices are vegetarian; no meat is served. But there are lots of fish options and interesting salads. And their specialty, bagels, are a good choice any time. Finally: it’s almost next door to Winners!

The 3 of us, and often another friend, have been meeting over food for almost 40 years. It all began at work. We were teachers at a high school and every Friday we would celebrate the end of our week with a drink and munchies at Diana Sweets. We called it Period 5. It was a place and time to shed our school issues. We heaved sighs of relief as we contemplated a couple of days to rebuild our strength and shore up our lesson plans. We began to relax as we drank vodka and orange juice and nibbled on quesadillas, and potato skins.

After we all retired, we stayed in touch. Diana Sweets closed down so we had to find other places to meet. Our days were free and we could meet any time; for example, lunch! One place that attracted us was Red Lobster. We discovered that their seafood chowder was delicious and the rolls were all buttery and warm. We could even ask for extras to take home. And the restaurant, located close to a highway, had a huge parking lot.

Another place that caught our eye was downtown on the subway; The Queen and Beaver Pub. It had a great menu with delicious salads. Because we were so healthy on the first course, we decided to try their sticky toffee pudding for dessert. WOW. It was out of this world. Which led us in another direction – a search for the best sticky toffee pudding in the city. We scoured the internet and found sticky toffee pudding at the Pickle Barrel. We tried 2 different locations but their STP was no match for the one we had at the Queen and Beaver. So we gave up and focused on something else: shopping.

Since we were retired, why not combine lunch and shopping? One of our favourite places to shop was Second Nature, a high-end consignment store on Mt. Pleasant Ave. We found some unique clothes there, even a wedding dress! But it took a lot of energy to browse all 3 floors. We needed to fit lunch into our plan. Lo and behold, there was a fish and chips store nearby.

Penrose Fish and Chips was an iconic spot; a family business started in the 1940’s. The entire family worked there, frying up the fish and rolling it in newspapers. Their menu was short – fish and chips and coleslaw. And maybe a coffee. Sadly, this historic spot closed down in 2014. We tried a replacement on Laird Drive. The fish was quite good but the parking was terrible and there was no transit or shopping. So we moved on.

One place that served well as a replacement was Swiss Chalet. The quarter chicken dinner with fries and coleslaw could always be counted on. The meals were reasonably priced and the restaurant had clean washrooms. It was our back-up when other ideas failed. In fact we went there so often that, when one of us was about to celebrate a milestone birthday, she jokingly mentioned Swiss Chalet. She was pretty surprised to see 12 of her closest friends gathered there on the appointed day.

Recently one of our group moved into a retirement apartment at Christie Gardens, so naturally we had to try out the restaurant. It’s large with bright windows looking onto a patio and garden. The meals are displayed on a table at the entrance, so you can actually see what you are going to order. The seats are comfy and the wait staff very friendly and patient. Three courses are offered: soup or salad, a main course and then a dessert trolley with many choices, although sticky toffee pudding hasn’t appeared so far. And there’s a small gift shop too.

This past weekend I finished reading the latest book for my book club. The story covers life in a Veterans’ hospital built in Toronto during the first World War. The story briefly touched on the food served to the vets – cheap, with little variety and cooked in huge batches. The ending shocked me: the hospital was torn down in the 1960’s and replaced with Christie Gardens! Too bad the vets didn’t get to eat there.

Sue

Christmas Visit

After a busy, fun-filled Christmas holiday, our houseguests, Beniamino and Anna, are returning to their home in Italy tonight.

As you can see from the photo, they came prepared for the weather. Besides down-filled coats, they had gloves, scarves, hats, ear muffs and boots. They ventured out almost every day. Only Boxing Day, with the heavy snowfall, deterred them. After a lot of frantic pacing, they gave up and accepted our offer to take them on the subway downtown to Sankofa Square. They held onto each other as we navigated the ice and slush, stopping at Little Canada, and enjoying the lights at the Eaton Centre and the 2 City Halls. Then we came home to relax with coffee and stories of Peter’s childhood village in Italy.

Beniamino soon got the hang of winter driving and the next day they were off again visiting relatives and friends. Their daughter and grandchildren, who were staying elsewhere with an aunt, joined them when their travels took them as far away as Canada’s Wonderland, and Niagara Falls. The grandkids got a huge kick out of Blue Mountain where they tried tubing, cross-country skiing and rope-climbing in the snow drifts.

During their stay, Beniamino and Anna made shopping trips for souvenirs to take home. They collected traditional things like snow globes of the CN tower, and maple leaf tee-shirts. Their favorite food souvenirs were maple syrup, peanut butter and Tim Horton’s coffee pods. They stocked up on paper plates and other stationary. They made a trip to Lee Valley for tube squeezers and other gadgets. Their bedroom got fuller and fuller.

We shared meals, mostly breakfasts, together. We learned that they prefer fruit and sweets like biscotti and cannoli, but one day they got brave and tried the breakfast that Peter and I eat every morning. That night they returned with strawberries and ladyfingers. Apparently our steel-cut oats were not a hit. Planning dinners was more complicated. Often they would call around 5 pm to say they wouldn’t be returning till late. Our fridge bulged with leftovers.

One day they found themselves here for lunch. They had anticipated this and bought a BBQ chicken and some asparagus which Anna planned to cook. It was a pasta recipe she had recently learned from her daughter who lives in Mexico. But she needed some tomatoes to make into a sauce. Peter gallantly offered his home-made “tomato sauce” which he neglected to mention also contains beef. While the chicken was warming up, Anna prepared her recipe of asparagus, garlic and olive oil. She stirred it lovingly as it simmering on the stove. Then Peter triumphantly dumped in his homemade concoction. Anna glared. It was the war of the sauces!

Peter and Beniamino had many spirited conversations, with Anna adding comments here and there. I could usually follow the topics but I rarely offered more than “si”, or “perfetto”, or “fredo” (which was a very useful word because it WAS cold every day!) But we did have one language default with greater consequences. On New Year’s Eve Beniamino and Anna were leaving for the entire day, beginning at 10 am. They were going to several events with various groups, and Peter got the definite impression that they were staying overnight at the last place.

As we got ready for bed aroud 11:00 pm, we turned off the lights and turned on the house alarm. Around 1:30 am our guests returned and unknowingly set off the alarm. Buzzers sounded and a commanding voice shouted “Identify yourself! The police are coming!” When I woke up and ran to the entrance, Anna and Beniamino were standing near the door, frozen in place, a look of terror on their faces.

Other than that incident, we liked having our holiday guests. We enjoyed their company. We shared lots of Italian baking and family stories. I re-learned a few lessons and some vocabulary from my Italian classes. Peter talked with long-lost cousins, and revisited a lot of childhood memories from his Italian village.

But, sadly, the Christmas season is over. Time to rest up, eat all those leftovers, and move on.

Sue

Toronto For Italians

A few weeks ago Peter’s nephew Beniamino and his wife Anna announced that were coming to Toronto for 2 weeks at Christmas. It seemed a strange time to leave Italy and travel to Toronto and our cold and snowy weather. But we will be excited to see them.

Beniamino and Anna have entertained us countless times when we have gone to Italy. They have housed and fed us, driven us cross country, taken us to historic towns, classic concerts, and beautiful coastlines. They have even welcomed our friends and family into their lives. We owed them so much. How could we give them a similar experience?

First of all we told local family and relatives about the visit and everyone was excited to contribute to this holiday adventure. Then I decided to use my blog experiences to choose the best places in Toronto for Beniamino and Anna to enjoy. We started with the Eaton Centre. What visitor doesn’t want to buy a few souvenirs to take home?

From there we could walk over to the “old ” and “new” city halls, built in 1899 and 1965. But then I remembered our visit to Rome to see the oldest structure there, the Pantheon, built in 27 BC. Maybe we could show them our New architecture instead. We could walk south to King Street and look up at the glass and steel skyscrapers sparkling in the sun and almost touching the sky.

The AGO, Frank Gehry’s masterpiece, might be of interest. The Galleria Italiana, a long corridor made of glass and Douglas fir that cures along the front of the building and connects several galleries, shows off nicely. And maybe we could take them to a concert at Roy Thomson hall, another great modern building where the acoustics would highlight the sounds of “Bravissimo, a night at the Italian Opera. But how would it compare to a concert we had seen outdoors on a starry summer night in the courtyard of Cassamare, an old Italian convent built in the 1200’s?

What was the best way to show off Canada in the winter? Someone suggested a trip to Blue Mountain with cross country skiing and maybe a sleigh ride in the woods. Or we could do a day trip to Niagara Falls to see the lights. But what would Beniamino and Anna wear? Would they own tuques and mitts? Did Italians even know about thermal underwear?

Then I started thinking about food. For sure we would take them to Eataly for shopping and a meal. One day we would have to visit San Remo, an Italian bakery with huge line-ups and mouth-watering veal sandwiches. Or there was Queen’s Pasta on Bloor St for an elegant dinner. At home I cold cook minestrone soup and make polenta casserole.

Then someone casually mentioned that maybe these Italian visitors would like to sample some other choices in the most multicultural city in the world. Perhaps some Thai food? Or maybe a trip to Greektown. Or would they like to try a steak house? Or possibly some spicy Indian food.

Then other cracks began to appear in my carefully planned agenda. Would they have room in their suitcases for the shopping part? Do they like opera? Had I left enough time for them to visit other cousins and family members they know here? Had I allotted any time to just relax with an espresso?

In the end I made lists – places to visit, things to eat, people to see. Then I put the lists away. When Beniamino and Anna arrive we will give them big hugs and make espresso. And let the days go wherever they take us.

Sue

PS Happy Holidays dear readers. I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t write next Tuesday. I may be busy rewriting my lists.

Searching For Christmas Light

On Saturday Peter and I struggled into our thermal underwear and headed out to see the Christmas lights downtown. We envisioned ourselves as ambassadors for you, dear readers.

The subway was partly shut down due to track work, so it took us a little planning to figure out a route without too much outside walking. We rode to the College stop and then walked down to the Eaton Centre. Our first mission was to find some name-brand sports shirts, possible Christmas gifts for a couple of grandkids. A security guard pointed out the way to Sportchek which is hidden on the lowest level of the mall. We found the shirts we wanted – at prices that were heart-stopping! Even my new pacemaker was in shock.

Next we checked out the Christmas lights. The tree was in its usual spot, changing colours and rising to the top of the mall. Families gathered around the fountain at the bottom and stared upwards. It was quite a sight. But otherwise, the lights were mostly commercial advertising. Except for this large butt…

We carried on through the Eaton Centre to the corner of Queen and Yonge where animated Christmas windows have been on display for years. This year, after the closing of The Bay, the window project was taken on by Cadillac Fairview and the spaces were leased out to various brand names such as Apple. The windows were described in an article in the Toronto Star a few days ago, and they looked amazing in the newspaper photo. But, as we wandered around with lots of other families, all we saw was this sign:

But when?

Undeterred, we sought out the Cavalcade of Lights at Nathan Phillips Square. We had visited this show a couple of years ago and it was magical. This year, the skaters were there in droves, but the lights had nothing to show for themselves.

Except this lit-up sign advertising the FIFA world cup:

FIFA is indeed exciting but it’s not until June. Must we close our eyes to Christmas and all the other holidays until then? Disappointed, we joined the crowds on the subway and went home.

But this morning we found some light to share, just outside our front door:

Sue

Health Span, not Life Span

Ever since Peter had his 80th birthday and I had my hospital vacation, we seem to have encountered conversations about our age everywhere we go. The topic is not about getting older; it’s about staying healthy. And that’s such a useful topic, because who wants to live to 95 if we’re stuck in a wheelchair, drooling and mumbling?

What we want is quality of life, not quantity! ln order to do this, alterations may be necessary. Some of us may need new knees or hips. Some require hearing aids or stronger glasses. Perhaps we need a couple of tooth implants or a night guard. Maybe a new organ is required, like a kidney. Or a more technical device like my new pacemaker.

Once we are put back together and plugged in, we can move on to staying healthy by keeping up with our drug supply and intake. A container will help us sort this out.

Then we need to stay in shape by exercising everything at a gym. At least twice a week. And don’t forget those arthritic fingers or sagging core. Then find some nice loose-fitting pants, a sweater to hide turkey neck, and some concealer for those wrinkly faces. We are all set to party. Oh wait – first we need a nap!

For entertainment we need to choose something earlier in the day, preferably accessible by public transit. We hope for a loud speaker system and comfy chairs. If there is food, it should be easy to chew and not too spicey. And lots of washrooms nearby.

Peter and I attended an activity last week that fit the bill perfectly. On Tuesday we took a day trip on a bus with a washroom, to St. Jacobs. We went with friends we have known for over 40 years. Along the way we enjoyed a delicious and chewable roast beef dinner with melt-in-your mouth cheesecake for dessert. We remembered to take our medications. Then we saw a show in a theatre in an old schoolhouse, the kind we might have attended ourselves. The singers replicated the Four Plaids of 1950s fame and belted out lots of music that we knew! We sang along in our off-key voices.

On the way back in the bus, the snoring was loud and comforting. And we got home well before our bedtime. It was a perfect event. With days like this, we could happily live to 95.

Sue

Hospitality Suite

Last week I was feeling kind of tired so I decided I needed a vacation. I managed to secure a negative ECG and booked into the Toronto General Hospital.

My first accommodation was in the emergency department, aka pretty basic. The cubicles were all full so I was given a room in the Hall. I got a lot of attention there, some of it uninvited. The patient across from me in the hall was a little needy and called out for the nurse all night. When nobody came immediately, she climbed out of bed and roamed the halls calling “Nurse, Nurse!”

At 4:30 am the floor cleaning machine came along, over and over again, washing and polishing the floors. After that was finished, I was moved into a cubicle, which is really part of the hall but with a curtain around it. The noise level was the same but I had a little privacy for when my hospital “gown” came undone. The nurses visited often for blood pressure checks, ECG’s, IV installation, and medications. It was pretty hard to sleep even with all my equipment.

At breakfast time I was handed a paper bag with a cup of orange juice, and a box of Shreddies with a carton of milk. And No Coffee! I was starting to think I had booked the wrong travel agency. Until… a staff member with a wheelchair picked me up and told me I was going from the “madhouse to the penthouse!” And he was right.

I was whisked up to the 5th floor, cardiology, and into a private room. It was large and sunny with a big window, a dresser, a bedside table AND my own bathroom! Now this was living. Well almost living, except for my heart acting up. I continued having test of all sorts and visits from cardiologists who would talk to me separately and then have a conference with each other outside my door. It’s hard not to eavesdrop when that happens but, since they were speaking in medical language, I had no clue what they were saying!

Gradually the doctors and tests all arrived at the same conclusion – I needed a pacemaker. Basically I needed to be jump-started with an inside battery. Now that I was nearing the end – to my treatment that is – I was moved again, this time to a semi-private room. I still had a window, and a bathroom that I didn’t have to share because the other patient in the room was bed-ridden. And there was a lovely lounge area nearby overlooking University Avenue. By this time the food was much more edible, and served on a tray with real dishes and cutlery. I still wasn’t seeing any margaritas, but the Greek salad was quite tasty.

After my pacemaker was installed, I stayed one more night and then went home just in time for a new patient to settle in and watch the Santa Clause parade. My experience was a different kind of vacation. The staff were all friendly and helpful. The service was efficient. But what I’ll remember most? Whether in the hall or the penthouse or anywhere in between – I had family and friends texting, phoning and visiting. That part was the best!

Sue

Here’s my grand daughter Agnes’s contribution: Christmas decor

Where Is Annie?

Last weekend Peter and I went looking for a cemetery. “Now why would we do that?” you ask. Was I so desperate for material?

The truth is that a friend and I belong to a book club where the author speaks to us in person, and we always feel obligated to read the book. Plus they serve cookies and tea before the meeting. The title for November caught my attention: The Knowing; A History of Canada Through the Indigenous Lens. What was a “knowing” anyway?

The author, Tanya Talaga, explains early in the book about what a “knowing” is. In a nutshell it’s a body of thoughts or facts that everyone knows to be true, but is not documented or published. I guess, for example, that all adults know that they themselves play the role of Santa at Christmas. But they would never disclose this secret because it would break the hearts of many little children.

In the Indigenous culture there is no Santa. But the people have known for years that their children were stolen from them and often died as a result of their lives in residential schools. It was a well-hidden “knowing” until 215 when remains were found on the grounds of the Kamloops residential school. The Canadian government kept it a secret because of their involvement, and the indigenous people didn’t discuss it openly because that would confirm their sad reality.

But ground-penetrating radar equipment uncovered the truth. Stories emerged of staff abusing children, sending them fishing in unsafe canoes and allowing them to drown, giving them polluted water to bathe in and even drink. School officials filled the schools to overflowing so they could collect the $4 annuity the children received. Medical care was non-existent and a lot of the students died of tuberculosis in the damp cold buildings.

As Talaga learned about this terrible truth, she wondered about her own family and began to trace her ancestors back to the 1800’s. One person eluded her: Annie, her great grandmother. Talaga discovered that Annie married twice and had 7 children, five of them “lost.” But after Annie reached the age of 60, she seemed to disappear. Was she one of the bodies buried somewhere in an unmarked grave?

Talaga’s research was meticulous and widespread. She travelled from James Bay where Annie was born in 1871 all the way to Saskatchewan where Annie lived with her second husband. Talaga visited libraries and document centres, and she searched out contacts. She read and re-read the Indian Act of 1887 and many other treaties and agreements. She even found data that had been collected by official inspectors and then discarded. All her work led her to Annie and her life until she was about 60. Then she seemed to disappear. Where had she gone?

Through a contact, Talaga had a lucky break. She was able to follow Annie’s trail to the Lakeshore Lunatic Asylum in Etobicoke, where older Indigenous people without family support were placed. (The building was later re-named the Lakeshore Psychiatric Hospital). Many residents died there from disease and old age and the hospital needed a place to put their bodies. They took over some vacant land, about 3 kilometers away from prying eyes. The patients themselves cleared the land and dug the graves. Annie was buried there in 1937.

Ninety years later I found out about Annie’s grave in our neighbourhood, and coerced Peter into making a visit to find Annie again. We know the former hospital. It has been bought by Humber College and sits on the Lakeshore campus, serving as an assembly hall. Several movies have been filmed there including Richard Burton in Equus, and the Police Academy series.

The cemetery, which is located at the corner of Evans and Horner Aves, has been resurrected by volunteers and local councillors. More than 1500 graves are now numbered so that visitors can find loved ones. On Remembrance Day it is fitting to mention that 24 of them are WWI veterans and those graves have names and Canadian flags. It’s a quiet place where Annie and others have found peace at last.

The Indigenous “knowing” is now ours too – just a few kilometers from our doorstep.

Sue