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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 1991-12-23, Page 5THE CITIZEN, MONDAY. DECEMBER 23,1991. PAGE 5. 62 Arthur Black A hidden . oasis in the big city In Toronto, the unexpected doesn’t happen. The city is safe and reliable, and utterly predictable. Stephen Brook Mostly, Mister Brook is right. Toronto is one of the most relentlessly sensible cities on the planet. Toronto streets, laid out by a 19th century British military man, march resolutely north and south and east and west, just like a blueprint. The city's concrete buildings spring ramrod erect at rigid right angles to an ocean of pavement; its torrents of treated sewage rush quietly, unseen, through subterranean viaducts straight into Lake Ontario. The people scurry obediently to their appointed tasks on subways, street cars and buses, their eyes buried in Globe and Mails and Toronto Suns. For the most part, Toronto is the urban planner's dream, the accountant's Nirvana. A metropolitan Holiday Inn: no surprises. But there is one feature of Toronto that both surprises and delights. The most peaceful, unindustrialized, least Yuppified swatch of real estate within the city limits. It's called the Toronto Islands. Holidays a time for fantasy It's been a while, but I can still remember, what was for me, one of the nicest things about being a kid. Not only were you allowed to have fantasies, it was expected. Fantasies, fables and myths were nurtured in us through fairy tales and charismatic characters like the Easter Bunny and St. Nick. However, like the mother in the movie. Miracle on 34th Street, there are some who argue that it's not right to let your children grow up believing in things that are not true. An uncle of mine, a perfectly wonderful man otherwise, felt it necessary many years ago to tell my children there was no Santa, chastising me for lying to them.I was very angry with him becuase in defense of myself, I have never lied; I prefer to think of it as evasion. Secondly, as the mother does by the end of the movie, I believe that drcams and make believe are almost as important to a child's development as their parents' love. However, at our house, this year, it has become clear that for my two youngest children this special time of their childhood is coming to an end. As any parent who has ever had their heart warmed by the expression on a child's face as they behold Santa, this is not a time that is easy to let go of. Reluctantly, I have come to terms with the fact that I can't milk the fantasy out much longer. However, the difficulty is that I must now decide what exactly the reality is, for you see, I believe in Santa, or at least the concept. At Christmas, even in these difficult times, there is an affinity and a generosity among humankind that is not duplicated at any other The Toronto Islands are not much more than a glorified sandbar, really. A few hundred acres of trees and lagoons and cottages splayed across Toronto harbour no more than a longish canoe ride from the downtown core. The islands are linked to the city by a fleet of squat ferries that scuttle like lady bugs from mainland to island docks and back several times a day. The ferries transport hikers, bikers and picnickers. You cannot take your car or truck or any other motorized vehicular horror to the Toronto Islands. They carry one other commodity, those island ferries - they carry island residents. Some 650 Torontonians occupy 250 island homes on about 33 acres of the Toronto Islands. The homes are not two-storey, Whistler-style condos or sandblasted red brick town houses. They are, for the most part, tiny cottages on tiny lots. Some of the cottages are rustic; some are downright ramshackle. The people who live on the islands are not what you’d call up-scale, carriage-trade types. They have no arenas, no malls, no movie theatres or taverns. They must lug their groceries by hand or on their back from the ferry docks. They are at the mercy of the last ferry which chugs back to the city before midnight. I think they are the luckiest people in Toronto. Others think so too. For years there's been a dog-in-the-manger movement to kick the The Short of It By Bonnie Gropp time of the year. Of course, there are always a few burnt out bulbs that spoil the tree, but for the most part the idea of the Christmas spirit is not overated. Maybe, I'm naive. Maybe it's my tinted glasses, but I believe the desire to be kinder, and more generous to our peers is apparent everywhere during the season. Take for example, the recent success of the Huron County Chrismtas Bureau, which, despite the economic crisis, received enough donations to make 1,000 needy children happier this season. Personally, if there's a time when I'm able to look at life less cynically, less selfishly it's now. I'll admit it. As the youngest in the family it has been rumoured that I have been a tad spoiled. But, when the presents are opened at Christmas I derive a far greater pleasure from the giving than the getting. For that reason Santa will forever visit our Letters to the Editor THE EDITOR, For various reasons, there are people in Brussels and area who are going to be spending Christmas alone, or without their family. Single persons, people new to this area, people who don't have family close by, persons who have recently lost a loved one, people who can't afford a Christmas dinner, in short, anyone who would enjoy getting together with others on Christmas Day - they are ALL invited to join together and take part in a Christmas dinner at Brussels Mcnnonile Fellowship. There is no cost, however anyone wishing to bring salads, cookies or fruit would be welcome to do so, but this is not compulsory. “squatters” as the anti-islanders call them, off the Islands. The anti-islanders want to bulldoze the cottages and turn the communities into parkland. Which in Toronto, means sod, geometrically correct geranium planters and municipally- approved, strategically situated hot dog stands. But it's not going to happen. Not for a century, anyway. Last month, the provincial government announced it would lease the land the homes stand on for prices ranging from $36,000 to $46,000. Sounds pricey, but the leases run for 99 years. I've never lived on the Toronto Islands but I did spend one warm summer night there, in the home of a friend. In the morning, we got up and had breakfast in her postage-stamp front yard. I remember the sun filtering down through the willows, delicious blueberries drenched in cream, the chatter of birds, the sonorous hoot of the ferry whistle ... and once in a while, in the intervals of silence, the angry buzz of the city just across the harbour. It sounded like a huge, hornet's nest that had just been kicked. I had to work in the city that day and I remember boarding the ferry for the ten- minute ride, humming and smiling to myself. Most of the other passengers were un-Torontonianally relaxed too, and they met my eyes and smiled easily. Nice to think that right in the concrete bosom of Toronto a tiny morsel of magic will live on for at least the next 99 years. place, because I can't imagine a Christmas without him. There are many who feel the true meaning of Christmas has been lost in the commercialism that one associates with Santa. Perhaps. But, I try in our house to perpetuate the idea of two very different segments of the holiday season. There is the celebration of the Christ child's birth and the childlike fun of Santa. As long as the one is in our heart, it's not wrong to enjoy the other. The dreams and fantasies that come so easily to us as children are not necessarily something we need to let go of as adults. In a world sometimes gone askew, Christmas dreams, along with our beliefs can, for most of us, put what's good in life back into perspective. There has been no better time to believe in miracles. There will be carol singing, table games and anyone is welcome to bring along musical instruments, and of course, the wonderful Christmas story. And so, we hope, no one will need to be lonely this Christmas Day. We welcome you to join us, and if you are aware of anyone who may not see this paper please invite them along for Christmas Day at 4 p.m. at Brussels Mennonite Fellowship. If you need a ride, let us know. And if you can’t get out, we will bring a meal to you. If you can join us please contact Kathy Proctor at 357-3557 or myself at 887-6098, so enough food will be prepared. YVONNE DETTWEILER BRUSSELS Letter from the Editor | By Keith Roulston Moments to remember It's the time of the year when our photographers spend a lot of time at Christmas concerts, standing around trying not to get in the road of the seemingly hundreds of parents who now own video cameras and want to capture their children's precious moments on tape. For us, unlike the proud parents, going to these concerts is a job...but while you're standing there you can't help remember concerts from your own past. I'll bet nearly everyone in the audience has a vivid memory of at least once concert from his or her past...in Christmas concerts may be some of the most permanent memories many have of their elementary school years. I remember two concerts from my own youth. The concert in those days was a big deal. The old, two-story school building in our town didn't have an auditorium so our Christmas concert was held downtown in the upstairs of the town hall and that, I think, adds to the specialty of the memories. Upstairs there were the velvet curtains. Downstairs, where we dressed, were the old jail cells where perpetrators would be kept in the days when there used to be a village constable. We'd practice for weeks in our classroom, then parade downtown to the town hall for a couple of practices before the big night came. There was a tremendous sense of importance about it all, being on that stage, blinded by the bright lights and knowing there were people out there but not really being able to see them. You were nervous, and scared... but proud to be there. My grade 1 concert was probably my favourite. We had a rhythm band and I got to play the drum, to me the best instrument in the band, even though it meant standing right beside the kids with the cymbals who kept banging them in my ear. I couldn't have been prouder in my little uniform, beating my drum...and that was even before the new song about the little drummer boy came out. My memories of my grade 2 concert are not as pleasant, but they are more vivid. The play was something about a toy shop...I don't remember much about the rest of the play because I didn't see it I played a jack-in-the- box and spent most of the play stuffed inside a huge cardboard box from one of the local stores. Under the lights it got hot and stuffy and, though I never liked performing in public, I could hardly wait for my moment to burst out of the box and say my lines. It was a relief to breath fresh air again. All this may have sparked my interest in theatre but it confirmed I never wanted to be a performer. My stage career was cut short after that because we only ever had two Christmas concerts. Educational experts came up with the idea after my second year in school, that there were more important things to do with our time than practice for school concerts. It ended, for a time, a long tradition. A year or so ago I was adapting some of Harry J. Boyle's writings for the stage and I realized how important the Christmas concert was in the school year of the old one-room school house. Teachers were judged on two things, he wrote: their ability to keep discipline in the classroom and their ability to put on a good Christmas concert. Perhaps there was too much importance paid to the Christmas concert at one time, but those who later thought it was a waste of students' time were wrong too. Who knows how many lives were changed from the feelings of importance and pride that came from getting a special part in the class play? Who knows how many people would never otherwise have been forced to stand up in front of people might now be able to present their ideas to others in public because, much as they may still dislike it, they know that if they did it at age seven, they can do it at 27 or 37 or 47? The Christmas concert, in fact, may be one of the most long-lasting experiences in the age of a child.