Liberty in Toronto

Generally when we think of liberty, our minds turn to places like Auschwitz, Gaza or Siberia, with freedom at stake in the daily lives of the residents. Surely there was no place with that kind of history in Toronto?

But then I read a novel called Liberty Street and my curiosity was heightened. The book was about the Mercer Women’s Reformatory built in 1880, and about the mistreatment and abuse of the inmates during those early years. The address was on King St West, in the middle of current day Liberty Village, a trendy neighbourhood of glass and steel condos, and lots of night life. I knew I had to see this place for myself. So Peter and I took a Toronto Heritage tour last weekend to find out.

Our first stop on the tour was at 1151 King St West, Allan Lamport Stadium. This stadium was erected on the Reformatory Site between 1974 and 1976 after the reformatory had been demolished. The only visible signs of the reformatory are a plaque and an outline in steel on the back of a park bench.

The tour director told us that the idea behind the reformatory was that women committed “moral” crimes and could be reformed inside a prison of this type. The speaker didn’t spend too much time talking about the abuse that went on, only giving us a few ugly examples of the mistreatment, including inadequate, dried-out, stale food, and the reformatory doctor who was found to be practising sterilization and eugenics on her patients. It was so bad that inmates went to great lengths, even setting fires in their cells, as they tried to escape.

A second stop on our tour was at Toronto Carpet Factory, known for its inclusion of women in the workforce. This factory was one of the largest employers in the entire city of Toronto. But there was a dark side – the women were forced to work long hours and were paid well below the salaries of the men for doing the same work. Often there was abuse going on between the bosses and the female employees who needed those jobs so badly that they did not report such incidents.

Farther along King St, where it intersects with Strachan Ave, is the site of the former Toronto Central Prison for Men, built in 1873. In this prison the premise was that men’s crimes were more violent and they could only be reformed with physical punishment. The only building of the prison complex still standing is the chapel, a place of peace and calm, in startling contrast to the prison where the punishments were horrific.

Connecting the back doors of these two prisons was a street, running parallel to King Street. This was where the prisoners were released after their years’ long sentences. This street became known as Liberty Street. You can walk along Liberty Street today, stop for a latte or enjoy an aperol spritz while listening to jazz, or even buy a swanky condo and build a technology business from scratch. You can almost forget the ugly past of this neighbourhood.

Or you can take the GO train back to your comfortable neighbourhood where trees flourish, life is pleasant, and the past is much less disturbing.

Sue

One way in which former criminals could return to the city was via streetcar. A replica has been preserved:

Death By Chocolate

Many people consider chocolate the food of the gods. Some would even say they’d die for it, figuratively that is. Peter and I would not go that far, but on the weekend we took our lives in our hands, and a subway, to an alleyway that looked a little suspicions from the street.

We inched cautiously forward, and discovered some interesting boutiques; a flower shop, a craft brewery and finally Soul Chocolate. We stepped inside, entranced by the aroma. And the choices!

The chocolate teacher, Adrian, invited us into the classroom and began his story of the history of chocolate, with a real Cacao bean:

Then he showerer hundreds of cacao seeds on our “desk” and explained the make-up of each bean. He had us sort through them and choose the best ones for making chocolate. It was a time-consuming process.

He made us tea from the shells and a chocolate drink, from the beans and some added chili powder, that were both delicious. To show how truly versatile these beans are, he covered his face in the cacao butter that comes from squeezing them. This was a lesson in cosmetics as well:

Then he had us get to work, grinding the beans by hand, which required a lot of strength and determination. Soon we gave up and he showed us the machine that is used commercially for this process. After the beans were ground down, the result was a smooth liquid that had to be cooled on a stone surface. This stage too is labour-intensive:

Then came the fun part; choosing our extra ingredients: coconut, cherries, banana, orange, nuts, salt, and putting them in the little compartments that would then be smothered by the cooled liquid chocolate

For the final exam of the course we did a tasting test, identifying 6 chocolate samples for their quantity of cacao, sugars and other flavours. Despite our newly acquired expertise we had some difficulty. We were not experts yet.

After class was dismissed and we said good by to Adrian, we knew we would have to spend a lot of time doing our homework: sampling our homemade chocolates and trying new varieties.

If you are looking for an adventure, and are not afraid of the addiction that might result, then go to Soul Chocolate and eat your heart out.

Sue

The Battle of the Fryers

When I was staying with my grand daughter Agnes for 10 days, while her parents were on a European holiday, I discovered a new way to cook. It’s clean, efficient, and the results are delicious.

I was hesitant at first. After all, I have been cooking in traditional ways for over 50 year and, while I may not have won any awards for my creations, nobody has been poisoned either. Full disclosure, there was one time, back when my kids were little and by accident I left a couple of burgers staying warm on the BBQ overnight. The next day they smelled OK and I was afraid that my first husband, who was very frugal, would catch me in the act of throwing them out, so I heated them up and served them for dinner. James knew what to do – he threw up all over his bed and felt fine by the morning. Jennifer, on the other hand, was not so quick to react and she had an upset stomach and diarrhea for several days.

Other than almost killing my children, I have done pretty well in the cooking department. I thought “why mess with a good thing?” But Agnes was anxious to have the chicken wings her mother had left for us, and she said they had to be cooked in their new air fryer. I carefully read the operating instructions and recipes that came with the fryer. I got the salad ready and then held my breath as I cooked the wings. They tasted pretty good considering my inexperience! Agnes and I ate lots and then I cleaned up, which was very easy.

A couple of days later, I cooked some pork chops in the fryer. They were thin and I overcooked them a bit, as in 5 minutes instead of 3, but they had a nice glaze and some good veggies and once again the meal was successful and the cleaning up was a breeze. Meanwhile at home, Peter was avoiding our BBQ due to outdoor heat, and therefore running out of food. I decided that this appliance would fit nicely into my cooking routine.

When I got home, I told Peter my plan and he went right to his Ipad and started looking for air fryer sales. He found a second-hand one for only $40 and decided that we should buy it. It was small and round and a brand with a poor reputation. Meanwhile I did some research of my own and found out that the recommended brand was Ninja and one new model had 2 baskets so that 2 different items could be cooked at different temperatures at the same time. This meant that, for example, you could cook meat in one basket and vegetables in the other, all for very short times and with little cleaning up. The battle of the fryers began. Peter was insisting that $40 was a real bargain, and I was insisting that $40 was not a bargain if it wasn’t what we needed. We went to bed on different sides of the basket, I mean the debate.

The next day an opportunity presented itself. Peter went to play bridge with some friends. What was I to do? Of course I went shopping. I drove to the first likely store which happened to be Canadian Tire. I strode purposefully to the customer service desk and asked the clerk where I could find air fryers. She said, and I am not making this up, “You mean the Ninja model with 2 baskets that’s on sale for $80 off?” I made a fool of myself screaming “Yes that’s it!!”

The poor clerk recovered from her shock and led me to the aisle, measured the machine to make sure it would fit on our counter, and carried it to the cashier where I paid. Then she picked it up and carried it to my car. I would have hugged her but she was rushing back to the store.

At home Lucy, the cleaning lady, helped me carry the new appliance into the kitchen where I unpacked it and began planning dinner. I cooked chicken breasts in one basket and tiny potatoes with broccoli in the other basket, all in less than 20 minutes. Peter arrived home from bridge and sat down to dinner. He declared the meal “delicious.” He didn’t even question how I had cooked everything. The battle of the fryers was over.

Sue

The Winner:

We Are Canadian!

Last Saturday night, when most people were out socializing and then sleeping, Donald Trump was posting. He posted on his social media feed at 11:18 pm, at 12:33 am. 3:16 am, 4:54 am, 5:27 am, and 6:07 am. The posts were rants, and boasts and lies, all documented by journalists.

As we watch the US implode before our eyes, worsening every day, it seems wise to ignore this and to consider the future of Canada instead. Losing our closest neighbour has been a heartbreak that we can see and hear and read about through the advancement of technology. The world changes by the minute as our cell phones buzz and beep with new information from across the globe. Unmanned drones fly overhead, while state-of-the-art submarines and new fighter jets are on Canada’s next year’s budget. But do we need to know all of this?

How can we as older individuals possibly plan for, or even think about, the chaotic future we are seeing? I guess we could reminisce about the past; all all the times we went to Buffalo to shop, and then sneak back across the border wearing 2 dresses or shirts, and brand new shoes that we had scuffed up a bit. Or we could look at our photos of winter trips to Florida along with our families, sitting on beaches while the grandchildren made sandcastles. Another option is to read fiction where writers speculate on the future; stories like the Handmaid’s Tale or Stephen King or Ian McEwan’s new book, What We Can Know. Then we could start building bunkers in our back yards, stock up on prescription drugs, buy extra pairs of glasses, and spend time inside away from crowds and street festivals. And wait for the end.

But there are other choices for us. Here are a few that I can suggest: First, spend quality time with those we love. Buy those Cirque du Soleil tickets that cost a fortune and take our grandchildren to see it. Meet a vegan friend at a vegan restaurant and order a new dish like shashimi or miso something and ask the waiter for chopsticks to eat with. Invite another couple to go for a walk through the trails of High Park, even the ones with hills. Take a bus through major traffic disruption on the QEW to visit childhood friends, even though the trip is longer than the visit.

Second, show your pride in Canada for everyone to see. Fly a flag somewhere on your property. Sing at the top of your lungs when Oh Canada is played at a sports event, even if you’re in your own living room. Buy Canadian food: Alberta beef, Nova Scotia lobster, PEI potatoes. If you must visit COSTCO, buy Canadian products there. Go to Simon’s or another Canadian store and purchase some red tops to enhance your wardrobe. Cheer on the Blue jays even if they are on a losing streak.

Third: stay healthy. Eat Canadian fresh produce like strawberries, cherries and asparagus. yummy. Take a walk along Martin Goodman trail, near the shore of Lake Ontario. Participate in an exercise class, available at most local community centres. Or visit cottage country in Muskoka and Haliburton where trees flourish, lake sparkle and the night stars are bright.

And most important: connect with as little world “news” as possible. Only make an exception for Mark Carney because, when he speaks, he speaks from the heart and with integrity and knowledge. As for Donald Trump, his chaotic world will continue to spin, whether we watch or not.

Sue

Hair Care

As I get older, I find that my hair requires more and more support. Every 5 weeks I go to see Sofia for a cut, colour, and blowdry/styling. And on every second visit she adds “highlights” which make the colour look more realistic, ie not just one shade. It’s an illusion thing. I like Sofia because she is talented, efficient, and close by. She knows about all my friends and family. She listens to my worries and is good with her advice. But her work is expensive. You bald guys out there sure save a lot of money!

I have been going to see Sofia regularly for the last 6 years. But for the last couple of weeks, life has intervened. On the day of my appointment 3 weeks ago I woke up with a stomach bug and Sofia was happy to cancel. We agreed I would re-book as soon as I was feeling better.

I felt better the next day, but I had a “vacation” planned. I was going to spend 10 days with my grand daughter Agnes, while her parents were away on their own vacation. I would be staying right downtown, quite far away from Sofia’s salon. Maybe this might be the perfect opportunity to find a different hairstylist, one who did not cost an arm and a leg.

First, I asked Agnes’s parents for the name of their local hairstylist. This would solve my immediate problem at least. But I forgot to write down the name or the address of their stylist. While sitting in their living room ruminating, I saw a piece of paper stuck in the seam of the sofa and, voila! It was a receipt for a recent haircut, complete with address and phone number. Surely this was serendipitous! But I hesitated. It was a lot for a new customer to ask: cut, colour, highlights, styling. And I didn’t even had a photo of my usually perfect hair to show them. Maybe I’d better wait…

Instead I called someone named Barb who had been recommended by friends. She was close to my house, skilled and cheaper. But I had been told that she was very very busy. Hmmm… I could probably last another week if she could fit me in then. I called. I told Barb how much my friends LOVED her work. I even said “Please?” a few times. I was getting close to begging. Finally I got Barb to agree that she would see how things went, and would give me a call if she had time.

Meanwhile I was getting shaggier and greyer every day. So I called Sofia and she said she would come into the salon early to help me this past Saturday, at 10:00 am. I “borrowed” some of Agnes’s mom’s expensive shampoo and conditioner which helped keep me presentable for another week. But at 9:00 am on Saturday, Sofia texted me to say that their air conditioning in the salon was broken, the temperature inside was 37C, and they were not opening for the day. Aggghhh

By this time I was ready to shave my head and buy a wig. I guess Sofia could hear the desperation in my voice, so we worked together with our calendars and found an opening next Friday. In the meantime I have a few social events coming up. But my time with Agnes is now finished so I have no easy access to the expensive shampoo and conditioner. After more ruminating, I ordered it online to get me through another week.

At the end of it all, I have Sofia who still costs me an arm and a leg. And I now have shampoo and conditioner which also cost an arm and a leg. I’m not sure I have made any hair care progress at all!

Sue

PS Photo definitely not available.

ROM: Through the Eyes Of My Grandchildren

Last week I spent a day with a couple of my grandchildren, Agnes 14 and Ben 10, at the ROM. They had both been there before, but they wanted to go again – together. They wanted to show each other their favourite exhibits.

The plan was to wander through each floor, stopping when a favourite spot came along. The first exhibit that caught their attention was in China. Right away the kids noticed the swastika on an Emperor’s robe. I had thought the swastika was a marketing tool of Hitler’s, but it turns out that the symbol has been around in Chinese culture for at least 5000 years, symbolizing good fortune and prosperity. Along with all his horrifying atrocities, Hitler had been plagiarizing as well.

Next we visited the biodiversity section where we saw the bat cave, numerous crawling things, exotic fish, food webs, a piece of rock from the moon, and of course dinosaurs. The dinosaur exhibit was of particular interest to me because it has been moved from its original dark space near the entrance to a bright and airy new section on the second floor. Dinosaurs of all sizes can now be examined up close.

After all that, it was time for a break. The kids had never been to the restaurant; they had always come with other groups and their lunch, and sat in a different area. The restaurant is not gourmet but it serves pizza with good pepperoni (according to Ben) and a delicious salad with greens and fruit (according to me!). We were happy eating, as we made our plans for the next part of our visit.

We had saved the third floor for last. This area contains Ancient Egypt which is a crowd favourite, mostly because of the mummies. But Ben and Agnes had seen them all before and walked by with only one comment: “gross.” We found 2 versions of Cleopatra – one carved in stone, and the other one a replica of Cleopatra putting on her make-up. That interested Agnes immensely.

The Japanese exhibit is also on the third floor now. At first Ben said he wasn’t interested, until I reminded him that he and his family had visited Japan only a year ago. Then he spotted the samurai swords and rushed over. He and Agnes studied the swords and the kimonos. Then they were attracted to the gift-wrapping table, Japanese style. This, like many other exhibits, was hands-on.

And that is what impressed me most about the updated ROM. Most of the exhibits have some sort of interactive display which engages young visitors fully.

Pushing buttons:

spinning wheels:

activating lights:

listening to mini-lectures:

tapping on images:

Our final stop was for more food at a small cafe on the main floor. Agnes chose a dessert square, Ben found a Kermit Gingerbread Man who quickly became legless, and I got a very sugary Nanaimo bar. We left the ROM with tummies full of calories and minds full of interesting things we had learned from our ancestors. Not one of us had even thought of using our cell phones.

Sue

Driving Lessons

One day last week when I was outside watching the cars go by, I turned my attention to a small black car stopped near our curb. A young girl got out of the passenger seat and skipped merrily over to the driver’s side. The driver opened the door and slowly stood up. He spoke to her briefly and then headed towards the other side of the car. How sweet! I thought. A dad is teaching his daughter how to drive!

I thought back to the time when I was about 14. My dad used to make me sit in the passenger seat while he drove, talking non-stop about defensive driving: looking out for the other guy as well as yourself. I learned about 2-way stops that other drivers assumed were 4-way, lane changers who didn’t signal, and kids dashing out from between parked cars. I assumed that my dad would be my driving instructor.

One day when I was 16, it happened. I drove my dad and his car for the first time – right into a peach orchard! I thought it was cool sitting there in a car underneath all those juicy peaches. But Dad was apoplectic. From then on, Mom took over my driving practice, guided by lessons from a driving school.

When my own 2 children started asking about driving lessons I thought about my dad. I turned to Young Drivers Of Canada. Their basic philosophy is defensive driving. You start by walking around your car checking for flat tires, doors ajar, and dirty windshields. Only then do you get into the car and fasten your seat belt. I can easily say that both of my adult kids are very safe drivers.

How was this young girl going to do?

The man opened the trunk and took out a cloth. He wiped the roof of the car, and then affixed a sign: Young Drivers of Canada. YEA! This instructor seemed serious. As soon as he got into the car, he began speaking and gesturing with his hands. I could tell by his gestures that he was pointing out features of the dashboard. First the windshield wipers went on and off. Then the turn indicators flashed, and the warning lights flashed. Finally and most important – the brake lights shone.

I wondered how the instructor was remembering everything. So I got out the binoculars and peeked. He had a clip board in his lap and was ticking off items as he went along. Smart guy. There is a lot of curriculum in teaching a new driver how to handle a huge lethal weapon. There are the mechanics of it all, including backing up, turning safely, and dealing with other vehicles. There are pedestrians looking at their phones instead of the road. There are little kids racing with one another on motorized scooters. Then there are the moral obligations of thinking on behalf of other drivers who are not paying attention, as my dad had taught me so well.

I watched the black car while the instructor finished his lesson. Then I waited for the girl to begin her new life. Suddenly – she stepped on the pedal and roared off. Good luck young driver. And slow down!

Sue

Window Washers

For several spring seasons our aged bodies have been staring up in despair at our dirty windows. Peter felt it was his job as a homeowner to get some exercise by climbing ladders and stretching overhead to scrub and rinse. Last year he got a special device to hold the ladder against the roof, and we found a Windex spray bottle that attaches to the hose. It was my job to steady the ladder and hold my cellphone ready to call 911. The result was better, but still a lot of work.

This year the job seemed to be even worse. We needed the gutters, which had gone from sparkling white to an ugly grey, cleaned too. But our families rebelled, telling Peter it was time to give it up. Let somebody else do it. They said we could find window washers on Google, or from recommendations of neighbours. Or sometimes young kids might come to the door and offer their services. As long as they had references or proof of some sort of a company, and their own tools, it would be OK.

Very soon after one of these conversations, there was a knock at our door. Two guys in their mid-20’s with a folding ladder, a name of a company on their shirts, a scrub brush with a telescoping handle, and a backpack full of cleaning supplies stood in front of us. Like angels. They had just finished a house nearby, they had gutter experience, they could start the next morning and the price was right. Timing is everything.

In case of possible fraud or future house invasions, I took a picture as they left. I am obviously not a trained crime fighter because you can’t really see their faces or their name tags.

But at our age, almost any visitors are welcome. We got up early to have breakfast before the fun began. The guys arrived on time and went to work. One started washing widows, even taking out screens and hosing them down. The other one was the gutter expert. We stayed inside out of their way. Sometimes we got a shock as we went into a bedroom and saw hairy legs through a newly cleaned window. Other times we went outside to pick dandelions and watch the determined scrubbing. It felt like real joy as we followed them making their way around our house.

In about 5 hours they were done. The fun was over. We offered to pay but they asked us to do a walk around the house first – checking their work. We found one small corner that they had missed. They quickly unfolded the ladder and went to work. Then Peter got out his wallet. It was money so well spent.

Finally he went back to his chair, delighted that the job had been done and he hadn’t had to do it. And I hadn’t had to call 911.

Sue

Playing Games

Yesterday the kids next door found a new way to amuse themselves during the summer.

Watching them brought back memories of how we used to amuse ourselves during the 1950’s when the weather was oh so hot. In the city, we roller skated for hours around and around the block. We played hopscotch on the quiet streets. We went to the park and chased each other around blowing bubbles. We got our dads to set up the sprinkler on the hose so we could run through it. And we did a lot of laughing.

These days kids’ toys are much more sophisticated. First they sit around inside with their devices and watch Youtube or play video games. Some of the older ones create videos and games themselves. Then they go on to make millions of dollars by the time they’re 19.

But most of the kids eventually get sent outside by their caregivers. After some complaining, they get on their brand new bikes decked out with bells and streamers and baskets, and they ride around the neighbourhood, dodging oncoming traffic. After they have given several drivers heart attacks they go home and switch to their new scooters – with tiny motors! Ah that’s more like it – no peddling, just steering and veering.

One neighbourhood boy of about 8 made up a new game of coasting on his motorized scooter down the driveway directly onto the street. The game was to see if he could avoid being hit by a car. After all, he was wearing a helmet; he waw invincible! I watched in horror as this game commenced. Then the boy had a close call. A car screeched to a halt and the scooter wobbled to a stop. The driver tore off, shaking his fist in the air! I went over to the boy and told him in a stern voice that he must stop playing this stupid game before he got killed. I even said something corny like “We don’t want our lovely neighbourhood to be spoiled by the vision of a child lying dead on the road.”

Suddenly the father appeared out of the garage and gave me a “mind your own business” kind of look. Then he sauntered over to the boy, patted him on the back, and said “Maybe you should find something else to do, alright son?”

OK so in hindsight that was not my best teachable moment. I could have talked to the boy with more empathy. I could have sent some road safety videos to his device. I could have borrowed a traffic guard uniform and taken up duty at the end of his driveway. I could have bought myself a motorized scooter and followed him around the neighbourhood, calling him a naughty boy.

But I digress. What I really wanted to tell you about was the kids next door, Hudson and Jade. These kids and their parents have somehow found the perfect outside activity. Another, richer, family had discarded a trampoline and left it on the driveway for the garbage collectors. Apparently it was in great shape – they just had other plans for the space in their back yard. Hudson and Jade’s parents dragged it across the street and into their back yard. They bought a new safety net to cover it and voila the kids were in business.

Those kids are on that trampoline all the time. They jump in shorts, in jeans, in snowsuits, and in Hallowe’en costumes. They jump with each other, with friends, and even occasionally with their dad. They have made up all sorts of tricks including: bouncing alternately on legs and then knees, doing random twists, executing somersaults, and figuring out synchronized moves together. They even make up appropriate noises to go with each trick. “look out! yowie! blasting off! somersault special!”

But last weekend on a hot day, they figured out the best one so far. They got out the sprinkler and aimed it at the centre of the trampoline. Voila – a bouncing splash pad!

Oh to be young again…

Sue

Pete and Pele

I have to admit that I am not a big fan of soccer. But Peter has a different point of view entirely. Growing up in Italy, he and his buddies played soccer constantly. The rules were easy to follow, and it was cheap: they could play it on any patch of grass and they didn’t need fancy clothes or expensive equipment.

When Peter’s older brother invited him to a soccer match at Varsity Stadium in the 1960’s he was delighted. When he found out that a world-class star, Pele, would be there, Pete was over the moon. And so were the fans. The stadium was packed, but the fans inside were outnumbered by the wannabe fans on the outside. As the interlopers began climbing the concrete walls, the police noticed. They considered their options. Then they stepped back and let the fans, paying and non-paying, cheer on their team. It was the right call.

Peter’s daughter, Andrea, is also a soccer fan and during the winter she put her heart and soul into finding tickets online for the FIFA World Cup. She managed to come up with at least one pair, for a “friendly” game against Tunisia on March 29th and she offered to take her dad with her. They agreed to meet at the GO station near BMO field. They bundled up because their seats near the field were uncovered and outside. As soon as they met at the GO station, the heavens opened up and, by the time they had run to the stadium, they were almost drenched. Once there, they had to wait because their seats were flooded out. After standing for an hour waiting in damp clothes, they gave up and went home.

But this did not dampen their soccer spirit, not one bit. Nor has weather, or anything else for that matter, affected the spirit of Toronto fans in general. FIFA signs are everywhere. Public transit and roadways are being upgraded. Restaurants and hotels are preparing for huge increases in business. Media coverage is being expanded; even the grass growers for the venues are advertising on TV. Kids of all ages are buying soccer merch.

Peter and I got into the spirit by going on a Toronto heritage walk on Saturday, where the tour leader told us about the history of soccer in Toronto. It was not surprising to learn that soccer was imported to Canada by Scottish immigrants in the mid 1800’s. The first recorded game was played in 1876 at the Toronto Cricket Club. In 1906 the Ontario Soccer League was formed. In 1912 a Canada-wide league was created. And in 1914 Canada joined FIFA. The first World Cup was hosted by Uruguay in 1930. That’s 94 years ago and yet this year marks the first time the World Cup has been partly hosted by Canada. No wonder there’s so much enthusiasm!

The first official venue for soccer in Toronto was Exhibition Stadium, built in 1948 to compliment the facilities at the CNE. It was used as a soccer field and concert venue for many years. The Blue Jays began their Toronto history there as well. But by 1999 the Jays had moved to the Skydome, and Exhibition Stadium was plagued by problems. The weather coming off lake Ontario, even snow in late fall, affected players and fans alike. And the pigeons gathered to consume fans’ leftover snacks and leave their poop behind. The stadium, nicknamed “the mistake by the lake,” was demolished in 1999.

After a lot of fundraising and politicking, enough money was raised to build the new, soccer-specific, BMO Field, on the site. But as readers know, that’s not the end of the story. For the FIFA World Cup, extensive renovations have been needed. Temporary seating, adding seats for 18,000, has brought the fan capacity up to 40,000. New LED scoreboards and video boards have also been added. And there is even heating, just in case.

You can be sure that fans without tickets will try hard to foil the police when the Toronto FC plays the first game on June 12 against Bosnia & Herzegovina. As for Peter, he will be home watching from the comfort of his living room chair. And Pele? He will be watching from another world.

Sue