As Canada Day approached, I asked Peter, my blog assistant, if he would go with me to see a fireworks display somewhere in Toronto, so that I could give you a full report, dear readers. “Been there, done that.” was his answer. And then I got to thinking – so have I.

It all began on May 24 when I was in kindergarten. The neighbours on my street gathered together in a small park, 3 families including 9 kids. The fathers brought the fireworks and folding chairs, the moms brought the blankets and snacks for the kids, and there might have been a thermos or two with drinks for the adults. And Leo, the neighbourhood prankster, brought those tiny red firecrackers that he spent the night lighting and throwing behind unsuspecting victims, and being yelled at by his wife. The evening ended when the little red schoolhouse burned to the ground.

When my own kids were small, the fireworks display was still part of the May 24 weekend, the official beginning of summer. Families in our neighbourhood congregated in the school yard with our chairs and thermoses, and the local Boy Scout troop collected money in a hat and put on a show for about 50 of us, the kids cheering and waving their sparklers, and the adults enjoying their drinks.

As the kids grew into teen-agers, fireworks lost their allure, especially if the parents were supervising. But one year, when my son James was in his early twenties, we filled up my car with other young adults and headed to Ashbridge’s Bay for the fireworks exhibition there. The show was stunning – sparkling flashes of light and colour all around and above us. After the cheering died down, we made our way to our car and tried to go home. It took us a couple of hours to make a 20-minute journey; the next year nobody mentioned going again.

But for younger families now, fireworks have come back into fashion. Several occasions – New Year’s Eve, May 24 and Canada Day – all merit the expense of Black Cats, Lady Fingers, and M-80’s. Our grandchildren have acquired the love of the displays. Every summer during our family cottage week, one evening is devoted to eating s’mores, and singing camp songs. The evening ends with bangs – exploding rockets, a sky full of wonder. Peter and I stay awake as long as we can.

In our current neighbourhood, a display is mounted every year by one of the residents, at a 5-street intersection with a small grassy area in the middle. Neighbours gather to enjoy the summer evening and watch a half-hour show. This year, at around 10:00 pm, as the fireworks began to pop and hiss, Peter and I began getting ready for bed. Then I began to feel guilty. I could still write about fireworks, but I needed at least ONE picture. So I snuck outside to our back yard, wearing my nightie under over of darkness, and took this shot.

Nobody saw me except the mosquitos: I got 7 bites. My readers are worth it.

Sue

For the past 25 days, our city has been decked out with signage. On every street corner and many lawns one could find campaign art – in eye-catching colours of purple, yellow, navy, and neutrals like taupe and ivory – created and displayed for yet another election., very similar to the one held 245 days ago.

For almost 3 months 102 candidates have been walking and talking about the skills that would enable them to run a city of over 3 million people and a budget of $19 billion. They have used up a lot of shoe leather visiting subway stations, festivals, parades, architectural sites, and public parks. They have stretched their vocal chords arguing about how much better they are suited for the job than any of the other 101. The debates, more like boxing matches, have often focused on the negatives, what the other candidates don’t have our can’t do. Sometimes its been hard to keep it all straight.

We have heard promises: to increase bike lanes, or cut them; to build rental units, or affordable houses; to increase taxes or reduce unnecessary frills in the budget. There were endorsements too. Former Mayor John Tory came out with one just a few days ago. Councillors encouraged us to vote for their buddies. Doug Ford was on the phone a lot. He called me several times, asking for support for his choice. Before the election I hardly knew Doug and now he acts like my best friend!

After lining up at the polling stations, voters were presented with a ballot, printed on both sides – one hundred and two names in alphabetical order – a lot to read! And then another challenge: to figure out the right bubble to to fill in. That’s correct – the RIGHT bubble, not the left. For some candidates in the middle column there were 2 bubbles, one on either side of the name, which added to the confusion. By this time the voter was feeling faint from lack of food.

But all of this hype, all of this confusion, and all of the money spent to host an unwanted election – was it worth the effort? For a succinct answer, just take a moment and look at the international news coming out of China, or Syria, or especially, Russia, or any of the many countries where elections are a sham, where one candidate is an oligarch and HIS opponents are headed for jail, where promises are not even expected.

Yesterday we voted of our own free will and then we watched as our votes were being counted in front of our eyes. Whether or not we liked the outcome, that petite female Asian immigrant, who survived child poverty, learned to speak English, and now stood before us in a cheery yellow dress, was chosen by us. And she will have her chance to keep her promise: to make Toronto a safer, more affordable, more caring place to live. All the best, Olivia.

Sue

Since Summer arrives tomorrow, June 21, here are a few scenes to celebrate the upcoming season in Toronto:

When thinking about Summer, one of the first things that comes to mind is swimming. This past spring the shed at our local splash pad got an upgrade:

Although they are not performing well right now, the “boys of summer” go hand in hand with the season:

Other outdoor sports include roller blading at Humber Bay Park, leaving the CN Tower far behind.

Birds liven summer days. For a closer view, visit Bloor Street:

Roadwork is an integral part of life in Summer:

For people who like to drive on the roads anyway, there is always an antique car:

This Summer politics are everywhere, even at the Taste Of Little Italy:

And the lives of Indigenous people are in the news daily.

(This mosaic was recently installed at Seneca College):

Really though, what says Summer more than ice cream?

(Tom’s Place, on the Queensway is one of the busiest in Toronto.)

Unless it’s construction?

Welcome to Summer. Enjoy the season.

Sue

As Peter and I boarded the 35 Jane St. bus last weekend, we were a little anxious. Would we be able to survive our volunteer 6-hour shifts at the Canadian Open Golf Tournament? Would the tournament entice enough guests when the roster of players was missing some of the top US players? And would bus 35 get us to our destination safely and in time?

As we found seats on the bus the very first day, we couldn’t help but notice that we were amongst people from all over the world. Their clothing often revealed their origins: Muslim-garbed women wearing hijabs and long flowing gowns, Asian ladies in flip flops and straw hats, Italian construction workers dressed in paint-splashed jeans and steel-toed boots, Latin lovers wearing tight shiny pants and studded leather jackets, older folks wearing whatever mismatched items they grabbed from the closet. It was a daily costume parade.

It was a daily display of salon activity too: hair in braids with sequins, or an intricate up-sweep with streaks of purple and gold, nails the length of claws in shades of red, pink and orange, men with Mohawks, or bald on top with dreadlocks hanging down. We couldn’t tear our eyes away from the show.

The bus was crowded with the riders’ accessories: tool boxes, shopping carts, canes, Walmart bags, pizza boxes, suitcases, purses full of make-up, walkers, baby strollers. This caused traffic jams at the stops. Invariably the double stroller would be in the middle of the bus and its owner had to navigate through the crowds to the exit. Or the senior with the walker would have trouble getting up the steps at the entrance.

Nevertheless, on every trip we took people were respectful, friendly, even kind. Not once did I lack for a seat. Gestures like this were evident everywhere: giving up seats to those in need, rescuing a lost baby shoe and returning it to a thankful mother, offering a granola bar to a fidgety little boy, helping a senior carry a box of plants off the bus. The drivers were respectful too; opening doors a second time for latecomers, forgiving fare shortages, helping lost people with directions. Each trip was a lesson on multiculturism at work.

Our shifts at the tournament were good. Peter was a Marshall again and enjoyed his rotations around the 6th hole – a lengthy par 4 of 539 yards. I was an Ambassador, kind of like a Walmart greeter, welcoming guests, giving directions to the free tequila booth, and later saying good bye. Everyone was cheery and grateful, even on the rainy days.

By Sunday we were exhausted and watched the last round of golf from the comfort of our living room sofa. The final shot – a putt that even Tiger Woods would have envied – was spectacular. For the first time in about 70 years a Canadian player, Nick Taylor from BC, has won our National Championship.

We kept thinking back to our multicultural riders on Bus 35. They now have one more reason to be proud of their new Canadian home.

Sue

Nick Taylor and his trophy

Here it is early June and already Peter needs a new hobby. For almost 2 months he has tended and nurtured the little seedling babies and toddlers in his vegetable garden. But now they are growing into restless teens, anxious to get on with life in their own way. They are demanding too: for water, fertilizer, weeding. Sometimes they even ignore his directives and grow through the fence, or up the wrong pole, or into the next row with another vegetable family.

Peter needs something else to distract him. Two summers ago he tried lawn bowling. He had won 2 free memberships to a nearby club at a silent auction, and he wanted to see what the game was like. He desperately tried to get me to go with him. Every Tuesday evening he would ask me: ” What are you going to do all by yourself while I am gone?” Silently I answered: “I am going to take control of the TV remote!”

I almost lost the lawn bowling battle when Peter took me as a guest to the closing BBQ in late August. He had won the club championship and was the guest of honour. I met all the other members who were quite friendly and encouraged me to join the following summer. I smiled politely but managed to avoid answering as I kept my mouth full of their free burgers.

Last summer we were busy travelling – to cottages and Newfoundland. I figured I was saved from lawn bowling. But this spring Peter brought up the idea of using his second free membership to join lawn bowling again. He wasn’t very enthusiastic; he said he didn’t find the game challenging enough. Then. when he searched for the free membership coupon, he couldn’t find it! Well that was that. Until…

At a recent Blue Jays game the giveaway was a Pickleball paddle. Peter is always interested in anything free and he asked me about the game. I told him what I knew: “It’s tennis for oldies. And you don’t have to wear white.” It seemed like a perfect match. We went to the Jays game early, but not early enough. The paddles had all been given away. Peter spent the next half hour searching under seats and in washrooms for a paddle that had been left behind. But there were none. “People must really like this game!” he thought.

I did a little research for him and found out that the game was created by an American family in 1965. The kids were bored with badminton so their mom challenged them to make up a new game. Using the badminton net, some practice golf balls, and a few leftover paddles from table tennis, they figured out a game. Their mom, so the story goes, called it Pickleball after a rowing term where the leftover rowers crew a boat called the pickle boat.

Then our curling club announced that they had turned the ice rink into a court for the summer – a Pickleball court! Peter signed up for the introductory session – lessons followed by a few practice games. He put on some old shorts and a tee-shirt and set out. A couple of hours later, he came home beaming. Pickleball was a hit. He signed up for a league right away,

Now I’m not saying this game is a forever thing. Peter hasn’t read any Pickleball magazines, or bought any new equipment, and he doesn’t even know if there is Pickleball on TV. But I am hopeful. It would be a change from gardening for him, and a chance to get my hands on the TV remote again for me.

Sue

The perfect Fathers’ Day gift….

Last weekend in the city of Toronto the doors of many buildings were open for public viewing. You can bet that Peter and I were interested in going to that event! It was hard to choose from almost 150 places when we had only one brief afternoon for exploring. So we pared down our list to one area – Liberty Village. It was accessible by public transit and had several sites open.

We headed to the village on the GO train – only one stop, with no Blue Jays fans to steal all the seats. As we walked up Atlantic Ave, the first open door we saw was Quest Chocolate Lab. That seemed like a perfect place to start. We followed the crowd around the space, passing up a chance to paint on a chocolate slab – what a waste of good chocolate that was! We carried on, thinking there must be free samples somewhere. But, after standing through a lengthy lecture on the culinary art of chocolate, we gave up and moved on in search of something better to sample.

Next we walked west on King St, thinking this must lead to the core of Liberty Village. We passed a huge soccer/rugby/football stadium named after Allan Lamport, one of Toronto’s early mayors, who fought against laws prohibiting activities like Doors Open from happening on a Sunday. Thanks Allan! Then we ran out of village so we turned around in search of the CARP/Zoomer Media building. Would there be free samples here?

Lamport Stadium

CARP/Zoomer is the epitome of all things senior: travel, movies, finance, sports, wellness, entertainment. A joyful old-person lifestyle is promoted through a radio station, tv programming, and a popular magazine. Outside the building we passed some classic cars, a glitzy sign, and a booth handing out mysterious tickets. Once inside, we were led on a quick tour along halls filled with posters of entertainers that everybody our age would recognize.

Then we were led into a studio where we became the audience for a live recording of an interview with one of Toronto’s mayoral candidates. We would be on TV! But who was the candidate? Not Allan Lamport for sure. We looked around and saw…Mark Saunders. As readers know, this is not a political blog, so I will just say that I was hoping for somebody else. As Mark gave his rehearsed political message, our eyes drifted to the little girl standing beside him, eating an ice cream cone. Where had she gotten that?

When we left the building, we discovered the secret of the mysterious tickets – free ice cream! Those cones were even better than free chocolate. And there were benches where we could sit to eat them.

Fed and rested, we were ready for more exploration on Liberty St. This small plot of land, cut off from the rest of the city by the lake on one side and a railroad on the other, was the home, in the 1850’s, to inmates of 2 prisons – one for women and the other for men. In between the buildings was a street where the prisoners could walk at liberty. Ahaa! When the prisons were demolished in the 1880’s, the area was designated as industrial, and factories producing machinery, electrical appliances, farm equipment, and weaponry during 2 world wars, sprang up. The name, Liberty Village, hung around.

In the 1990’s the factories began to close and the area slowly became gentrified. Factories were repurposed as condos, in good shape with new windows and fresh paint. Restaurants, boutiques and hair salons began to appear. Trees showed up in planters and narrow annual gardens ran along curbsides. A small but inviting park, with a unique sculpture representing the industrial past, found a spot for itself at the village centre.

Liberty Park: Note the repurposed factories in the background.

Then it was time to ride the GO train home. Even though we had only travelled one stop, Liberty Village felt like we had visited another era. And the ice cream cones were out of this world.

Sue

Peter and I have had some wonderful adventures in and around the city of Toronto, and we have been happy to share them with you. But sometimes things don’t go quite as planned.

A couple of weeks ago Peter saw an ad for a concert featuring Herb Alpert of Tijuana Brass fame. Come on, admit it, you remember them from 50 years ago too. Their music was everywhere; on the radio, in movies, and on best-selling albums you could buy at Sam the Record Man. Anyway, Peter was intrigued and Herb was performing at Exhibition Place, only a one-stop ride on the GO train for us. So we found a date that worked, on a Saturday evening, and I went online to order tickets.

Tickets were scarce at this late date but I found a couple and signed up through Stubhub, a ticket site I was not familiar with. The tickets were confirmed. The next day we got a notice that our date had been changed from Saturday to Sunday. Perhaps the Saturday concert had sold out while my order was still in cyberspace. Or perhaps my very basic computer skills had failed me. But it didn’t really matter – we were free on Sunday too.

Two days before the show we received our virtual tickets. I checked the information: Sunday at 8:00 pm…in Hamilton? – oops! After my panic attack ended, I realized that actually we could still take the GO train – just more stops. The trip would be 75 minutes including a short bus ride, instead of the original 10. Peter suggested we go an hour early and have dinner in Hamilton before the concert. It would be an adventure!

But on Sunday the train was late arriving at our stop: it was packed with Blue Jay fans returning from the Rogers Centre. We arrived at the Hamilton stop 10 minutes late -thereby missing the bus connection. The short bus ride would not be starting for another hour! So the extra hour we had planned for dinner was spent at a deserted bus station with no restaurants, not even a Timmy’s, anywhere in sight. For our dinner we drank a bottle of water and ate some nuts Peter found in his pocket.

We did eventually make it to the concert just in time, and Herb Alpert, at age 88, played his heart out on his trumpet. We knew most of the songs: A Taste Of Honey, Spanish Flea, The Lonely Bull, and songs from the movies: Zorba the Greek and Casino Royale. He did some numbers with his wife, Lani Hall, including This Guy’s In Love With You. Hall, quite youthful at only 77, went on to sing several well-known tunes in her silky smooth voice. Many of us in the audience joyfully sang along.

The concert went on past 9:30, past Herb and Lani’s bedtimes, and ours too. We rushed out to search for a different GO station, where the final train for the night would be leaving for Toronto at 10:25. We didn’t want to miss this train: the idea of no dinner And no bed was wayyyy out of our comfort zone.

A couple of security guards near the concert hall directed us down James St. and they said we’d better hurry because the station was a LONG way. Utilizing our best hiking skills, we set out at full tilt. As we passed another couple, we wanted to confirm our route. “Is this the way to the West Harbour Go station?”

The couple were like fairy godparents. They told us that yes we were heading in the right direction, that their car was parked in the next block, and that they would drive us to the station. As they navigated their way on a route we would never have found by ourselves, they told us that they had been to the Herb Alpert Concert too. We shared our appreciation for those older musicians who still played and sang with such passion.

As we arrived at the station in time for our train, we also shared our appreciation for the lovely people in Hamilton who had saved us from a night on the street with no food. Even Herb Alpert wasn’t worth that price!

Sue

One of Herb Alpert’s best-selling albums.

In our great city of Toronto, one rarely sees our 2.8 million people all together at one time. But it got pretty close last Friday night.

A few weeks ago the family of one of our “children,” the musical family, invited us to a dance performance at Harbourfront. We had never seen flamenco dancing up close, and our impressions were superficial: lots of Spanish guitar playing and stomping around in flouncy skirts. Pretty basic I admit, but I also needed a new blog topic, and we are happy to go anywhere with our family, so we said yes.

After a quick supper, we headed for the GO train station and found the parking lot almost full. Then we noticed other people wearing Blue Jays shirts and hats. Ahaa…a Jays game was being played very close to our performance destination. The GO train was packed and the young crowd were hooting and hollering, flirting and fist-bumping. The game, against the Atlanta Braves and former Jay Kevin Pillar, had generated a lot of excitement. And a lot of drinking. At Union Station the crowd surged through the doors and headed in the direction we were going – towards Bremner Blvd.

Then we began to hear roars, louder and louder, and then Maple Leaf sweaters on the march. Of course! It was Game Five of the playoffs against Florida, a do-or-die event for the hockey teams, with the Stanley Cup on the line. Most of Bremner Blvd. had been closed, except for a narrow path crossing York St for pedestrians like us going south. The police were out in full force; in cars, on foot, and on horseback. The crowds were squished in, on both sides of York St, in fenced areas with Jumbotrons blaring from above. Maple Leaf Square had become Maple Leaf Coliseum.

South of Lakeshore Road the screams died down as we left both the Jays and the Leafs fans behind. The noise of cars and buses almost soothed our ears. But along Queen’s Quay the foot traffic picked up again and everybody seemed to be going one way – our way. We followed along into the Queen’s Quay terminal building and up the elevator to the concert hall – packed with adoring flamenco fans. The first number, titled “Galeria,” featured 5 talented dancers accompanied by the melodious guitar strings of 2 expert musicians. As the final notes of the piece sounded, the audience went wild, clapping loudly and belting out: “whoohoo!” and “Yayyy!” The well-known Spanish Dance Company was a real crowd pleaser. We sat back to enjoy and learn.

The performance ended with several rounds of applause, a standing ovation, and a new appreciation of this art form for Peter and me. Then we headed back to the GO train – with some concern. It was just after 10:00 pm. What if both the Jays game and the Leafs game ended simultaneously? We would be swamped, trampled on, stampeded! We picked up our pace. We determined that the Jays game had just finished. But the Leafs were into overtime. We silently pleaded: “Please don’t anybody score till we get on the train!”

We raced towards the GO station with other flamenco fans and and Jays supporters, and we all managed to find seats. As the doors of the train closed, Maple Leaf shirts began rushing up the stairs. Too late – Yes! We didn’t stop to think until later how the poor Leaf fans would be feeling: first the Florida team had kept them out of the playoffs, and now the GO system had kept them out of the train.

Such is life in a big city: how lucky we are to have so many world-class activities to entertain us, but unfortunate when they all happen at the same time.

Sue

Really? You are asking yourself if you want to read on, aren’t you? Go ahead. Have some fun!

Every Monday morning, armed with my re-usable bags, my loonie for the cart, and my list, I go to No Frills and load up on the necessities for the week: bread, onions, kleenex, milk, chicken legs and chocolate bars. It takes me only half an hour to navigate the aisles and check out because I know the route by heart. This store definitely has no frills; no fancy displays, no free dessert samples, nothing to distract me from my routine task.

But on Fridays, (or thereabouts), I go to the Other grocery store, the one With the frills – our nearby Sobey’s. Sobey’s has always been a fun place to visit; offering all the little extras that I might need when guests come for a meal or Peter and I want to up our Saturday night cooking game. Recently the store went through a renovation and now it’s… well let’s just say that I am thinking of moving in.

I have to admit that the renovation was no fun, not for staff or shoppers. It was a weekly hide-and-seek game for consumers. Where is the coffee hiding this week? What secret spot did the carrots find now? It must have been a nightmare for the staff but they seemed to manage. One time a clerk even joked with me. “Those pesky eggs, always sneaking off on us!”

But now? Now the store is glorious. I asked the manager to join me on a tour, but he was busy, so you can join me instead…

Walk in through the front door and choose from a variety of carriers: regular shopping carts with drink holders, smaller versions for a single shopper, baskets for a few items only. Or choose a “Smart Cart” if you dare. Then follow the delicious coffee smells to the Starbuck’s and order a latte grande. You are on you way to shopping joy.

First attack the produce section; grown in Canada and freshly-picked. Ready-made salads wait beside the hot table. Go ahead and buy dinner. You deserve it. At the bakery, choose a 1/2 pie – perfect for people who feel some guilt about their sugar intake. Check out the meat section, complete with a dry-aged beef refrigerator. Next door the fish market sells all kinds of freshwater and sea creatures. Pick up something you don’t recognize and surprise your grandchildren next time they visit.

Then scout out the boutiques. A wine boutique features Canadian wines from west coast to east. The only thing missing here is the table with the free samples. Drop in at the wellness centre where a wellness expert, Rachel, will help you choose a new hair colour. Visit the celebration area, selling greeting cards, balloons, and floral options, or seeds if you want to try growing your own. Finally feast your eyes on the candy display: tempting shelves of Hershey’s chocolates, licorice sticks, S’Mores kits, marshmallows and Sour Patch candies; the perfect way to get a sugar rush at the end of your shopping spree.

Then head for the cashiers who are always cheerful and ready to help pack the bags. Unless…you have bravely opted for a Smart Cart. I usually avoid these at the entrance, but last week I approached a woman boldly navigating one through the canned goods aisle. She said the carts were “super easy to use” as she demonstrated: use the device attached to your cart to scan the item, and pay with your credit card as you leave the store. If you ah…forget to pay, the cart lights up in fluorescent orange and the manager comes running.

Next week I’m going to try a Smart Cart. It might be fun. Maybe I could even meet the manager!

Sue

Peter and I have adopted that off-hand anonymous comment as our philosophy of aging, for the past several years. And we see many others who live by it too.

We saw proof of it when we spent a month in Florida this past winter. Take 80-year-old Phyllis, for example. Every single morning at 8:00 am, rain or shine, warm or chilly, there was Phyllis at the pool with her little speaker gizmo, running the women’s aquafit class for an hour. She arrived, dressed in one fashionable bathing suit after another, some of them quite sexy. She would join us in the hot tub at the end of the class, and tell us about her favourite restaurants, tourist sites, and shopping outlets.

There were others in the class too who kept going, despite hardships. Joanne, for instance, was battling Parkinson’s disease and walked with a cane. After she finished the aquafit class, she went to ballet classes or boxing. Or Peggy, who was coping with severe bouts of arthritis, came whenever she could manage, and we all cheered as she stepped carefully into the pool.

Boxing for seniors

At the golf course we visited, the volunteer staff were well past 70 years old, and mostly from Ontario. They drove south each year, with their aches and ailments, and they were often on duty for 10-hour days, directing cart traffic, marshalling on the course, and dealing with people trying to butt in line. The grey-haired clerks at our local Walmart, stooped and limping, greeted us at the door or rang up our orders, and handed us the heavy bags with a smile.

These signs of resilience are evident here in Toronto too. It’s just not so obvious in bad weather when we tend to stay inside, avoiding rain and dampness. But we see it in the media: on TV, online, and in flyers. Merchandisers are hunting us down and clearly making a profit from our desire to keep going. They try to sell us every gadget and gimmick they can conjure up. In a recent pamphlet I found: compression knee massagers, pelvic floor muscle strengtheners, a help-me-up handle, and a stool stool. (OK, I’ll tell you -it sits in front of the toilet so you can raise your knees and “go” more freely… Sorry but you Did ask).

Friends have told me about other finds. Apparently there is a golf club made especially for people with Parkinson’s disease that has a spring-loaded device on the end of the driver and fairway clubs, so golfers can manage the long shots. When they reach the greens, they are able to chip and putt on their own. For cooks with arthritis in their hands, there is the “jar key” that helps open those pesky jars of sauce and pickles, so the cook can finish the recipe and impress the guests.

Jar keys

As for cars: the new ones have all sorts of driving assists so we can keep going on the roads too, despite arthritic necks and weak hip joints. My car beeps whenever I inadvertently drift just a tiny bit into the next lane, or if I get even a tiny bit too close to the car in front. My favourite assists are the ones that help me back up – the camera and the beeper. Now I don’t have to search desperately for a drive-out-forward parking spot. I can actually back up, with a little technological help, all by myself!

So dear readers, Keep Going. And if you have any devices or activities you have found useful, share them on our site.

Sue