The couch that had sat forlornly on our street for a couple of weeks...it’s owner having left it for others to deal with... slowly accumulated more furniture. Another arm chair. A bicycle. Even another couch. We wondered how high it would grow till it became an issue that merited attention. Apparently a few concerned citizens notified the city. But it wasn’t their concern that got action. Our street was on a parade route for a recent festival – so the city finally came by to take care of the eyesore. If not for that factor – I wonder how long the junk would have rested there? And how many more people would’ve decided to tack on their discarded gems? Another visual manifestation of the apathy below the surface...

We used to live in a part of the country where snow filled the landscape for anywhere from four to six months. Sometimes more. As they say in Quebec- “Eight months winter – four months poor sledding.” Now we live where the snow is rare. And while we are very happy with that, there is just one thing I miss about it...it’s that first quiet snowfall. Flakes large and soft, slowly drifting down through the night. Quieting the world for a brief moment in time...

Our local 24/7 shop has a clerk that is invariably pleasant. She recently suffered an injury to her foot that makes being on it for ten hour shifts – rather painful. But like many people she can’t afford the time off to let it heal properly. From brief conversations I have gleaned that she has two small children as well. The doctor says that they can’t do much about her foot but that it would be good if she could lose a bit of weight. So she’s thinking of joining the Y and she’s happy to find that they have a pool that she can bring her kids to. What impresses me is that while things may be hectic, painful, and difficult for her circumstances – she is always pleasant to her customers and she is obviously an involved and caring mother. Noticing the general trend in the service industry for clerks to be abrupt and even rude at times – she stands out. You’ve probably run across someone like her in your travels too. Let’s hope they’re appreciated...

We’ve all heard the phrase – “May you live in interesting times..” and as we have come to understand – it was not meant as a blessing. Well, we indeed do live in interesting times. Everyday the world seems to be twirling a bit more out of control and we are bombarded with negative information that is spun to inspire the greatest reaction of fear possible. There is no doubt that our times call for clear heads. We need to do our best thinking, focusing on what is important and applying our energies to what is positive and upbuilding. And tho’ things at times may appear a bit ‘too’ interesting it is good to bear in mind that we are not the first generation to experience outrageous circumstances. Where it will all lead is still unknown but I rather like the fact that it sounds so understated and British (dare I say) to describe them as ‘interesting’. Let’s not lose our senses folks – the best is yet to come...

Black Friday – the day when stores can hope to recoup their slagging sales for the year. When sales on long awaited items are so tantalizing, people will rise in the middle of the night and wait long hours for doors to open. This year an employee for Walmart was trampled to death by crowds that mobbed in unrestrained in frantic search for ...who knows? Unheard of sales? Once in a lifetime opportunities? Life and death material needs? It’s sickening ... and very black indeed...

Nearly two weeks ago someone dumped an old sofa on our street near our apartment building. Somehow in the middle of the night someone else carted it over to another building that is currently empty. It now sits forlornly in the rain and the mist and the wind pointedly working as a reminder that we are often at the mercy of people who don’t take responsibility for the most ordinary of tasks – disposing of their own garbage. Now as it sits there – looking sadder every day – the question arises as to who is responsible now to see that it gets taken away. It costs to have a company pick it up and it’s a street of apartment blocks that refuse to acknowledge ownership. It’s become a metaphor of our times where everyone seems to be dropping the ball and cuttin’ out fast. The Couch on our Street....the saga continues...