Although it was a long time ago, the memories I have are still vivid – walking as a boy at my father's side on cool summer mornings, before the sun was up, at the Ontario Food Terminal in Toronto, visiting the farmers' stalls one after another, looking for the most succulent black cherries, the juiciest red haven peaches from the Niagara peninsula, the reddest radishes, and the crispest romaine lettuce from the Holland Marsh. The air was charged with the sounds of farmers eager to sell their truckloads of produce,…
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“Where to?” “Anderson Cancer Center,” I said. The driver sneaked a look at me in the rearview mirror before he…
Cars, trucks, and heavy transports bustle down the busy thoroughfare known as Preston Street. A vital link between the city…
I remember as if it were yesterday, when I would stop in to see Mom and Dad after work. They…
SAPLING Sunday mornings, Mom attends mass at St. Ambrose Church while Dad takes me to High Park where I play…
“Since the house is on fire, let us warm ourselves.” (Italian proverb) Monday, 9 a.m. Not writing. Dim, dreary…
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