An Afternoon

Here's how I spent yesterday.

In the late morning, I headed out to the gym. A trumpet playing King Of The Road (Trailer for sale or rent, rooms to let fifty cents, no phone, no pool, no pets, I ain't got no cigarettes...) greeted me as I walked out onto St. Clair. An elderly black man with smidges of white hair, wearing a plaid vest, was playing his trumpet in front of the liquor store.

I stood and listened for a while. He was good, though he played slowly. I had two $5 bills on me so put one in his trumpet case. He gave me the deepest bow I have ever received from anyone, while still playing his trumpet!

At the gym, as I was changing into my workout clothes, a woman said, "Oh, you sound tired." It's true, I have been sighing loudly recently. It's fatigue from going to the gym four times a week, trying to buff up for summer. But that little comment from her started a conversation.

Now, I think the woman is a little flaky. Despite that, we sat in the change room and talked for an hour. Or she talked mostly.

I found out she's a recent breast cancer survivor, her treatment continues, she's written two movies that have yet to be sold, she works as background in movies, she worked in sales in Cuba for two years a few years back, she's the eldest of four with two younger brothers, one of her brothers works as an executive chef in Russia, one runs a private high school in Toronto, she has one sister who is a homemaker with two teen daughters, and she's single with no kids.

We talked about India and my love of Bollywood movies. Her favourite movies are Moulin Rouge and My Life As A Dog.

She lives on a street next to the gym. She's working out to shape up so she can take part in a 2-day, 60K walk for breast cancer in November. I offered to sponsor her and she welled up in tears. Then she said, "It's so good to have a conversation and to have someone actually listen." I think she may have been lonely.

Walking home from the gym, I saw a fat wooden butler figure placed outside a shop that runs up a side street. The shop window said "Lunch Dinner" and nothing more. This is a new shop. I went in to investigate.

A woman saw me through the window and waved me in. Her shop opened the day before. The place was small, so it was for take out food, though not quite set up yet. The first thing this woman told me was, "I am the best biscotti maker in the city." And to prove it, she gave me two delicious pieces of biscotti to try.

This woman used to teach salsa dancing at my gym. Now she's focusing on food and catering. The little shop has promise. The woman is vibrant. I can't wait to buy food from her.

Leaving this shop, I walked a few doors over to The Cupcakery. The store window has a pink tutu on display. The shop sells only cupcakes. I bought one. By now, I've put back all the calories lost at the gym.

There is a new tapas restaurant on the street, though the white table clothes are all wrong. Maybe that's why I have yet to see anyone eating inside the last three times I've passed it.

There is a new video store. They specialize in foreign and independent films. No more Blockbuster for me. I rented Jasmine Women and Sancho The Bailiff. Both beautiful and full of grief. I have to go back today to rent Harold and Kumar to balance all that despair.

It's a pretty interesting hood I live in.