As Seniors living in the city, we feel the days slipping by fast. One day it’s Tuesday and I am writing to you, and then it’s Tuesday again! What happened to those days in between? Time seems to fly by.

Which is why waiting in line is such an aggravation. It seems there are lines everywhere we need to go: the drug store, the blood clinic, the LCBO. Sometimes waiting in line can be worth it, especially when the end product is fun. In the winter those of us who are able, wait happily in line for the ski lift that will take us to the top of the hill, and the glorious run down to the chalet. In the summer we wait patiently with our grand kids for a ride on a roller coaster or an ice cream cone.

But there are lots of times when waiting in line is just a waste of our precious time. We line up to buy last-minute concert tickets and then get to the box office, only to be told that the concert is sold out. We are on a subway train which breaks down, so we line up for a shuttle bus and therefore miss an enjoyable lunch with friends. We get in line at the airport baggage carousel to pick up our suitcases after a long flight, and then…our luggage is not there!

I see these kinds of stressful line-ups at the food bank where I work. The unfortunate folks who have to visit are embarrassed at their need for this service. They come dressed in the warmest clothes they have, often missing hats or gloves and wearing shoes instead of boots. Then, because of lingering Covid germs, the line is spread out, leaving some outside shivering as they wait for their turn.

And I haven’t even begun to talk about waiting in line on the phone, twiddling our fingers as we hear over and over and over: “Your call is important to us. Someone will be with you soon.” HA!

The other day I decided to protest. I was second in line at the bank, where there was only one teller and he was dealing with a woman who had a file folder almost 3 cm’s thick. It must have been some major business transaction because she was slowly going through each page of this folder, one by one.

In line ahead of me was an elderly gentleman. We began to pass the time in conversation. He said he had been waiting almost 15 minutes already, but he didn’t mind because he was retired, lived alone, and enjoyed getting out and meeting people. Then he told me his age – 95. I was shocked. Why should a 95-year-old man have to stand up that long just to get some money that was probably already his?

I hurried over to a side wall and grabbed an empty chair. I hauled it, and then another one, into the line. I motioned for him to sit down and I took the chair behind him. When the next customer arrived, I advised him, in a loud voice, to get a chair too because the wait was really long.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a second teller appeared and unlocked her computer screen. She welcomed the elderly man with a smile. I felt somewhat vindicated.

Next time you have to go somewhere that has a line-up, maybe take along a folding chair and a book. Even as Seniors we can still make a statement.

Sue

Well maybe this is a slight exaggeration…

I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but it’s close to 20 years since Peter and I retired. And we’ve been celebrating New Year’s Eve with the same people for almost that long too. Are our celebrations the same? Obviously not! Our bodies are almost 20 years older – modifications have to be made.

During the early years, we had just started curling together and the Weston Golf Club put on a bang-up party every December 31st. To start the new year off, we all got down in the hack and heaved those weighty rocks along the ice for several ends. Then we rushed upstairs to the showers and threw on fancy clothes: suits and ties for the men, party dresses and stiletto heels for the womem. Next we sat down to a meal of fat-trimmed steaks and loaded baked potatoes, and gorged on chocolate fountains or Baked Alaska for dessert. We hopped around the dance floor, waving our arms in time to the Village People’s YMCA, or Gloria Gaynor singing I Will Survive! After a midnight buffet snack of sandwiches and more desserts, we drank champagne and danced some more. We made it home in time for bed around 2:00 am.

When Weston cancelled their NYE party, we switched to an Italian church hall in the country for a few years. The man focus was the 7-course meal beginning with an anitpasto table, and carrying on with pasta, meat, a tripe course which most of us skipped, fish, salad and dessert. We danced to polka music and a few slow songs by Andrea Bocelli. At midnight we drank champagne and blew noise-makers, and made it home by around 1:00 am.

Then Peter and I moved to the city. You’d think that our NYE celebrations would be more upscale and end later. But we were all getting a little older, so we settled for the Famous People Players event. The men exchanged their suits for sweaters, and the women gave up heels for trendy flats. We spent part of the evening sitting and watching a group of young performers make magic with intricate movements and black lighting. We ate a big enough meal and then danced with our champagne glasses until the toast at midnight.

Following those years, we were interrupted by COVID. For our celebration of 2020-2021, we had a small gathering in our garage, with everyone wearing coats, hats, and mitts along with our masks. We had a toast to the new year, safely distancing from one another and freezing half to death. The next year we tried to host a house party with a meal ordered from a restaurant. But some couples opted out due to possible Covid symptoms, and the rest of us slowed down considerably about 11:00 pm. It was a struggle to stay awake until midnight.

Last year, in recogniation of our ah… age, we chose a different kind of party. We met at the home of one couple around 5:00 pm, armed with appertizers and wine. The dress code was “smart casual’ which meant that the men wore whatever they grabbed out of their closets, and the women wore glittery sweaters, and replaced their outdoor boots with slippers, at the door. We snacked on veggies, shrimp and sushi, and talked till about 9:30 pm, when we switched to champagne and cookies. We celebrated the new year at 10:00.

The party was so successful that, this year, we decided to do it again! We seem to have figured out a celebration that works for our age. For the next 20 years at least.

Happy New Year, dear readers. And let’s all make it our New Year’s resolution to continue finding ways to do the things we love - with some adjustments.

Sue

I have post-nasal drip. I’ve had it for ages, especially in the cold weather. It’s not that interesting, I know, but I do have a point to make.

Last week I had a busy schedule – lunch with friends, a book club meeting, coffee with other friends, and a physio appointment for my achy neck. I took my kleenex and went to every one of them.

By late Thursday my post-nasal drip was joined by a mild headache and a low fever. I suddenly had a terrible thought. What if it was Something Else? I scrambled through the bathroom cupboards for our supply of rectangular green boxes. You know the boxes I mean, right? The ones with the tubes, and the solution, and the LONG stick?

It took me a while to remember all the steps and set up the experimental station. I took my time, knowing what was ahead. Finally I was ready for The Stick. I hate The Stick – it tickles until it hurts. But you want to get a good sample – there’s no way you want to do it again until absolutely necessary.

As you may have already guessed, the little red line emerged and went straight to the top, joined by another line at the bottom. I was positive. Not good news. Not for me or for all those people I had unknowingly socialized with all week. Then Peter, who had had a runny nose for a couple of days, decided to take the test too. Also Positive. I tidied up my experimental station and began to make phone calls – apologizing to the people we might have already infected and, explaining to the people with upcoming events that we couldn’t attend.

Fortunately Peter and I have had 7 vaccines, including the updated Pfizer BioNTech which we got just 6 weeks ago. So we have had only mild symptoms: a slight cough and the post-nasal drip which was not. We’ve had a chance to catch up on Christmas chores like writing cards and decorating the tree. We’ve also used our germs as an excuse for extra nap time! Peter tested negative yesterday, and I will do the test this morning, when I get up the courage to face The Stick.

This Christmas is a HUGE improvement from the Christmas of 2020. Remember how we were afraid to send out greeting cards in case COVID germs stuck to the envelopes when we licked them? Or our trips to the grocery store for Christmas dinner; wearing a mask and gloves, going at 8:00 am to avoid crowds, and scrubbing our potatoes and carrots with hot soapy water when we got home? Or our visits with family: dropping by for 10 minutes, standing in a freezing-cold garage, social distancing with air-kisses?

Thanks to science and the millions of people who have taken the time to get vaccinated, this Christmas is Much better. We know the drill by heart: washing hands, wearing masks in crowded public places, and getting out the little green box when post-nasal drip appears. Any extras? Socking-stuffers with a purpose!

Sue

One of the visual images that resonates with Toronto visitors and residents is…the CN Tower! But there’s also the Royal York Hotel, a close runner-up. Peter and I visited this grand old lady last weekend to see how she was dressed for the holiday season.

The Roayl York, built in 1929 by the CPR company, was the tallest building (with 28 floors and 1,000 rooms) in the British Empire at the time. It offered radios, bathtubs, and a telephone switchboard to overnight guests. The opening in 1929 was rather bad timing for a luxurious hotel. But it survived the depression and 2 extensive renovations.

In 1949 the hotel lobby was used as a field hospital for victims of a fire on board a cruise ship in the Toronto Harbour. In the 1950’s the big bands attracted hundreds of wealthy patrons to the Imperial Room for dinner and dancing. I remember my parents going there once, an unusually extravagant expense for them. They talked about that night of dancing with the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra for years. Peter remembers going there too – in the 1970’s – to see Tony Bennett, his favourite Italian-American singer.

Many guests, much more famous than our families, have stayed there overnight: Ronald Regan, Justin Bieber, Jennifer Aniston, Leonardo DiCaprio to name a few. The hotel was the venue for the G20 Toronto Summit, hosted by Stephen Harper in 2010. The Queen had a Royal Suite there, which will now be occupied by King Charles, should he decide to visit.

Today the Royal York is just as luxurious as ever. Attached to the underground PATH and to Union Station, it is easily accessible for guests. When we visited on the weekend, a train had just arrived at Union, and the line-up of visitors waiting to check in circled half the lobby and the huge Christmas tree.

if you decide to visit, don’t miss the specially-decorated Christmas bar, The Thirsty Elf. The bar opened a couple of years ago in December, a tiny nook in the basement. Now it has pride of place on the main mezzanine, near the display of photographs depicting the hotel’s history. It’s a place to relax and marvel at all the Christmas kitch you have ever imagined.

Anf now I have to get back to decorating my living room. The Royal York has set the decorating bar pretty high.

Sue

When I looked at our calendar for the next couple of weeks, there wasn’t anything interesting to write to you about, except a couple of fitness classes, grocery shopping, cleaning silverware, and downhill from there. Then I saw it – an appointment with the dentist! Surely you would want to read about that; right?

Why doesn’t anybody like going to the dentist? Could it be that it is painful and expensive? I remember that, even as a little kid, I dreaded visiting the elderly and gruff Dr. Sim. His office was right next door to our house and I was able to watch him “practising” on his patients. The window was usually closed so I couldln’t hear them screaming in pain – but I imagined it. There was never any excuse for not going, either. Not even a hailstorm or bad brakes on the car prevented my mother from walking next door with me to see Dr. Sim.

Nowadays kids havve it easier. There are special children’s dentists who have toys in the waiting room and funny cartoon shows blaring from the ceiling above the dentist chair. And I have heard, but maybe it is a rumour, that candy is given out with the free tooth brush at the end of the visit.

As we get older, our teeth get worse. I understand that it might be caused by less saliva in the mouth to wash away bacteria, or less bone density to hold the teeth in place. I remember that my mom had a “partial plate” a spidery-looking thing that was always disappearing. As my dad got older he ended up with full dentures, top and bottom. His days of eating corn on the cob, his favourite food, were over.

In the 21st century we have more options, and the dentists are only too happy to describe them. After a filling breaks down, we can have the tooth built back up and a crown to cover it, for only several hundred dollars. Or we can have a bridge to hook a weak tooth to the one beside it. Or how about a root canal which takes only about 4 visits? The creme de la creme of options is an implant with tiny gold posts drilled into bone. The cost for this? Well maybe you’d rather have a new car.

i visit my dentist’s office 3 times a year for cleaning by the hygienst, Bella. She is very pleasant, and begins our one-sided conversation:

Bella: So Sue did you go away anywhere this summer?

Me; hoo wah la na gah goh

Net week is my annual visit with the actual dentist. First she takes x-rays. She stuffs as much equipment into my mouth as she can, and then runs out of the room to take a picture while I gag. Then she pokes aroudn with a sharp pick. And finally she pulls my tongue way out, twists it around, and looks underneath. What on earth is she expecting to find under there?

The dentist huddles with the hygienist, staring at the x-rays and whispering. Finslly she announces, “OK. You’re good to go until next year.”

I head to Tim Horton’s for a maple-glazed, cream-filled, doughnut.

Sue

In Ontario we have all been suffering under the leadership of Doug Ford. It started out almost as a joke. Remember the new licence plates he ordered, where the paint wore off after just a few weeks? Or the “buck a beer” campaign? We all laughed at this big goof, never imagining that he could figure out how to do us real harm.

But now the tide has turned and we have enough documented evidence to be worried. During the pandemic, Ford killed thousands of older people by not overseeing the running of for-profit nursing homes which, as it turns out, were owned by his rich buddies or campaign donors. Then he tried to usurp public lands, notably the greenbelt, for housing developments, once again owned by buddies and donors. Recently we were overwhelmed by his decision to tear down the Ontario Science Centre and rebuild just a tiny part of it somewhere inside his posh new spa at Ontario Place.

Cries of “Ford Has To Go!” rang out. Peter and I heard the call. We are on a mission – to find a replacement for Doug Ford.

First we assessed the political landscape and joined the liberal party. A few dollars for membership is a small price to pay to have a say in Ontario’s future. Yes, the liberal party has made mistakes in the past, McGinty’s gas plants for example. And, during the last election Steven Del Duca did not inspire nearly enough confidence in voters.

When Mississauga mayor Bonnie Crombie announced her decision to run, we went to her opening day meet-and-greet. It was a pub, with wine and snacks. We met her partner who was supportive from behind, a great place for a partner in this endeavour. We greeted her son, Jonathan, whom we already knew from his involvement in previous elections. We were introduced to another campaign worker, a man I knew because he has donated hundreds of children’s books to our local food bank. We met Bonnie’s mom, likely in her late 80’s – in a pub at 9:00 pm. Pretty good support all around.

At the next public event, Crombie and 4 other candidates met for a short presentation. It was more business-like. Only coffee and cookies were served. Each of the 5 candidate spoke for about 5-10 minutes and I must tell you that all of them seemed worthy, They all have university degrees and speak well. Each has political experience, either as an MP or an MPP. But we didn’t hear much about their platforms that night.

At our third event we listened to an actual debate. No food was served that night – it was all business, One candidate had dropped out in order to throw his support behind Crombie, but the other 4 all talked for a couple of hours, answering questions submitted by the panel. In short, they mostly agreed on the big issues: affordable housing, health care, and cost of living. Once again, we felt that any of them could run our province effectively. But the big question still remained: Which one of them could defeat Doug Ford? Stay tuned for the next blog post.

Only kidding… Peter and I have to make up our minds by next Sunday, voting day for liberal party members. We were disappointed when 2 of the candidates joined together to try to defeat Crombie. It has a feel of anti-feminism we just can’t get past. Crombie has done well as Mayor of Mississauga, and as MP before that. She has the political experience and the smarts. Most of all, she is feisty. We can really imagine her standing on stage with Ford, and fighting back. She will not let him push her around.

So, dear readers, on Sunday we will be voting for Bonnie Crombie on behalf of you, the residents of Ontario. You deserve someone better than you have, as Premier.

Sue