Once upon a time when you saw an accomplished person, did you comment, make assumption about her/his ‘know how’ in establishing her/his position? Upon acquiring information, did you take into account context, resources that qualified the information of your remarks without knowing of her/his access to such resources?


Your path to such enlightenment did not end with the product of her/his ‘know how’ being a product of their of access to resource(s) process. You became aware that her/his support mechanism(s) was a part of an ongoing and evolving system. A system that’s variable as each person’s individuality/uniqueness down to their very DNA, even to the Quantum Level.


It’s ironically moronic, if not arrogant, to hear tell of ‘self-made’ successes on this inter-connected/inter-dependent Planet giving aspirations to fantasies of many. Consider the microcosms of this macrocosm you inhabit; and ask yourself, how fantastic is your time/space occupation in this macrocosm. Does your mind allow you to perceive your contributions amidst your desires for more? 



My Dad




Ploughing through Life I have been fortunate to witness similarities ongoing in things designed to incite harmony; simultaneously, I noticed others seeing dis-similarities designed to incite discord and discontinuity.


Do you have such comprehensions? Any anxiety affecting your sensibilities going forward as a result?  


The question is rhetorical at this point, meant only to have you mindfully discern the continuity/discontinuity and synchronicity from your known perspective in concert with such goings on.  





“O D D S       B O D K I N S !”                                 



When did you first differentiate ‘pain from ‘hurt’, or have you yet to do so? What do these two words mean to you? 


Would their meanings differ if you had them on a regular basis; say, as dietary experiences throughout your early childhood? Would you became accustomed to them, as you would to your very own ‘security’ blanket, although not yet aligned in your contextual vocabulary? 


Would they simply be sensations experienced defying associative identification having no especial/cognitive meaning? Would they be incongruous expressions easily recognized, yet undifferentiated according to your overall Life context?


Unaware, maybe you react to these designations as if they originated from you? Have you realized this was the path which you’ve been treading, and have you found this to be your own unique path regardless of being onerous at times? 


Of course, this might just be my biased projection observing your accumulated behaviour patterns? 




7a. More Lifted-Balcony Slabs





What do you know of your prior mindset before receiving timely inoculations for current biases you deem of your own making?


Upon passing what I observe to be such a session between an adult and child, it became more apparent how little is known, and/or believed affective during these timely infusions. I saw the elder carefully readying the child to leave a space, only to overhear cautionary mutterings. Among other ‘truths’, for dealing with her/his functioning in her/his daily processes and interactions at-large, came unfiltered inculcations.


The sensation affecting me from the close-proximity of these two, the posture and tone of the adult pronounced this observation and contextualized current affairs more clearly to my awareness. Alarming to say the least. I can only hope there is hope in the future through others’ behaviours in spite of the witnessed cautionary tales spun during parental what is believed to be ‘loving’ exchanges. 



52a. In the Way



Time passed, and thoughts of ‘running away from home faded, with the advent of a few employment misadventures. I was an older looking teen, naive and ignorant of the city’s ways, but who had an enterprising mother able to secure access to after-school/evening, weekend and summer employment opportunities. One such employer was also enterprising. He was adept at negotiating and turning empty gas-station lots into parking lot-ventures, and with me one of their lot-attendant. He chose to place me at a most interesting location in the latter part of my high school years. 


I would arrive there at the gas station’s closing time.  The owner gave me the ‘washroom key’, which was to be my office. It was also my warm-up station during the upcoming winter months, ‘signage’ and chair storage, for me to strategically place in the lot. This lot was on a street perpendicular to street running north-south just outside today’s Yorkville-Hazelton Lanes development. 


On this job I was introduced to the kindness of strangers, experience driving a manual-transmission Corvette Stingray, and Yorkville of the 60s albeit only being on the periphery observing goings on.


During this period of Life orientation, observing goings on, I met two foot-patrol officers. I was still in my police-familiar phase, and was able to engage with them in easy conversation. They appeared interested in my observations, which I expressed with cantor, as I did my job parking cars. 


Easily overlooked by passers-by, I was able to offer insights of going on each time they dropped by. It occurred to me, during one of their routine visits, that these patrol officers conversation were becoming detailed questioning which an intuitive discomfort and I became reluctant to answer further. 


I was unaware what it meant to be a ‘confidential informant’, but I felt it unwise to engage further in conversation with these patrol officers. Synchronistically, they may have felt it too. They may have realized I did not fit their stereotypical insights. Their inquiries and visits ceased. Thereafter, I noticed them patrolling on the opposite side of the street and my unease faded, by and bye.


It is my belief, Life/Providence has ways of closing the circle on each of Its processes without counsel and effort. Years later, while I was working on a different summer job, a synchronicity occurred partial to the aforementioned parking lot attendant job process coming full circle, which I had forgotten during my pubescent fervour. 


This job’s early-morning process involved the distribution of each day’s delivery routes. Thereafter, we would make our way to our designated locations, and did our rounds delivering mail to those named on each envelope. One day, I recognized a name on one of the letters as I made my way into an allocated neighbourhood. I walked up the path to the door, knocked and waited. The door opened and I offered the mail to the named individual. 


As the door opened, if in slow motion, I smiled a familiar smile into the recipient’s surprised face. I was greeting one of the foot-patrol officers who had conversed with me, on my previous summer job as a parking lot attendant. It was a most surreal experience. Few words were exchanged, just cordial small talk. I turned on his door-step, with my mail-bag hanging on my hip, and simply walked back down his walkway, neither of us casting eyes on each other ever again.


Life in all Its vicissitudes!




2a. Getting Oriented c. 64





In the dark, be they demons or passing idle thoughts; meditating, awaiting sleep, realizations emerge.


I’ve lived a long while in this Time/Space Continuum and, like many other senior citizens, I am aware of developments experienced along the way occupying the Life spectrum from benefits to deficits. What does keep reappearing are aspects of ageing out, and not necessarily as I aged in! 


The world has changed with a disturbing equilibrium, if you observe the bigger picture. Some of us more fortunate than others to be on the elevated end of the plane. How this came to be is a matter for discourse, which I doubt will be accurate. Nature left to Its own devices Flows without regard wasting nothing, one way or another. The challenge is for us to elevate-the-process, going beyond the natural order and not in the manner we have been demonstrating.


We – have – the mental capacity, some possessing the will; although, not many of us are courageous enough, without FEAR to set the activities in motion, processes  by which all may benefit according to their proclivities.


What saddens me are the memories of those exiting out before me, and without having Life experiences with them. They occupy the categories of family – friends – acquaintances/associates -and- strangers. My earliest being a 14yr-old sister of my sister’s friend. Three years later, I had to forego a postponed tennis meet-up, when a friend departed en-route from visiting his girlfriend. Numerous students didn’t return after Summer Holidays during my middle years as an educator; and surprisingly, there were accidental and chosen departures by other students. Not to omit other friends and strangers who migrated through the avenues of illness, age and accidents. 


Throughout, were levied unexpected sorrows of relatives: grandparents – aunts – cousins – uncles who ventured to other dimensions via accidents, age, illnesses and accidents while I devoted myself to making a living being sole provider of me as I age up. True, we cannot be everywhere for everyone all the time. There need be no guilt and self-deprecation. It is unnecessary to beat oneself up over doing the essential things that kept one alive, and accept that nothing is lost to Time.


Sadness, of what might have been, infuses the feelings guiding me into the sleep-zone. These many deaths increasingly remind me about the importance of ‘being here now’. A notion receiving countless amounts of lip-service throughout the 20th Century into our Contemporary era, awaiting conscious awareness in action by each and everyone of us, thereby giving me hope for humankind while I age up ‘n out. Sweet sleep awaiting…



Melancholia 1

P ~ S ~ I … 2.


Police   Services   Interactions   …   2.        

         ~Newcomer’s  Orientation~


The year, 1962; I emigrated from the Caribbean into a mixed-culture and, being of mixed-heritage, I did not give this pre-dominantly Caucasian society a second thought. 


I was in the early stage of orientation, when my mother asked me to meet with her not realizing my directional ignorance. On the transit, streetcar, I engaged in conversation with a stranger and was unaware I had missed my stop. Undaunted, I remained on the streetcar enjoying the view of the city passing before my eyes. I was beginning the process of making it my home. 


Unaware of my location, and thinking I had further to walk, the streetcar arrived at end of the line, and continued walking in the direction it was headed. It hadn’t gotten cold, but it grew dark rather quickly being early October, I believe. It was another new experience, for this Caribbean youth wandering about as I usually did in this unknown neighbourhood. As was my usual manner in earlier times on my island home, I wandered about until I felt I required assistance getting back to my new residence, and my mother with whom I had not met. 


I reverted to a customary behaviour pattern, waving at an approaching yellow police car. It slowed as it came near, then came to a stopped. I engaged in easy conversation, although I forgot what transpired. I found my self seated in front on the passenger side of the cruiser as a result of our conversation. The officer and I continued cordially, with this young newcomer with a thick accent. I was unaware Of my accent, but I was familiar with police officers; although, he was unaware, I now ascertain. 


It wasn’t long before our conversation took an unexpected turn, when this officer casually broached the subject and inquired if I was ‘running away from home’?


To this, I was dumbfounded and speechless. I pondered the question internally. I asked myself the question, “Who runs away from ‘home’?” Also, this police officer was unaware of the drama/trauma of emigrating into this culture. All I could do was attempt to assure him ‘I was not running away from home’! After all, it was my thinking, this was to be the first home living with my sister and mother after five years absence!


We arrived at the Police Station, information was exchanged and in a short time I was reunited with my mother once again. While we were heading home, I retold the entire tale to my mother, and I concluded with the question, “How could the officer ask me if I was ‘running away form home’? I mean, who ‘runs away from home?”    




c. 1962

Turning Point~  c.1962

P  –  S  –  I                                                1.


You may or may not be aware of the saying, “You don’t choose your family”, even if orphaned. I came to comprehend this reminiscing on my early childhood, the unfamiliar becoming familiar.  Much had occurred round about me without ever receiving direction into any kind of vocation, private or public service. Aspiring to what appeared an emerging tradition as my father, uncles and an aunt may have been possible. Exploring one of the varying aspects of the police department.


Nonetheless, upon emigrating to another country, I briefly considered becoming a police officer. Joining this country’s police force, would have made it a family tradition. But I learned carrying a firearm was policy, while my country of origin only the military carried firearms. Not only was it an unfamiliar concept, but also an uncomfortable feeling having such a practice. This new construct of carrying a gun, inspired me to explore other vocations, setting me on a path unfamiliar to all my predecessors. 


Words of encouragement, not fully thought out, led me into random experiences as I began my adolescent phase. Orienting myself to this country which differed from my birth country, I encountered many situations allowing me opportunities to learn the dynamics of this environment, as ‘Time went bye’. 


These following stories will illustrate experiences that enabled me to comprehend the attitudes and attributes of those biased towards my ethnicity. Although, I was unaware of the untoward ahead of me along this path, a minefield fraught with the intermingling of ignorance and mindlessness, I was to benefit from what was revealed through those behaviours.


There is a Toronto Star newspaper article, dated 14th July 2017, reporting a case of mistaken identity. A police notice which stated, “be on the lookout for a bald, black male of 5’ 10”; unfortunately, a woman of 5’ 2” was arrested and viciously beaten by a police”. This news report opened a chest of dormant memories I shall reveal in the coming weeks for your amusement, edification and discourse. 


These are encounters occurring through the years, beginning in 1962, after emigrating from the Caribbean. There were no carry overs since our family construct experienced dynamic changes moving forward. Entries will detail content and context for your waiting mindsets. Enjoy …



18. Riding in BC '07



When I lay me down to sleep I oftentimes wonder in which time/space continuum I’ll awaken. Will it be the one in which I had lain myself down to sleep the night before, and will all be well save the happenstance on hold awaiting my dedicated continuance nuanced by random-spontaneity?                                             Oct./Nov. 2017


It’s late in the evening, after-midnight in fact, that time bed before sleep wraps me in her bosom. All is quiet, thoughts of death emerge in my consciousness as a wonder of wonders. Unlike Asimov, I do not contemplate, “Do robots dream?”; but, I do contemplate what I consider obvious, “Do all people grapple with this idea of the inevitable, the issues of death and dying?”                      January 2018


The more I experience creative works in the mediums of cinema / theatre / television, I lose my optimism for the future of humankind fuelled by a kind of realism and pragmatism.                                                                            January 2018


There’a only so much one can accomplish alone, and I’ve done so much. What is witnessed/experienced of me from here on out is but the result of strained effort. The type comparable/referred to in Shylock’s monologue in ‘The Merchant of Venice”, if you know of it!                                                February 2018




Melancholia 1



What’s it/this all about? Are we here/there yet?


Making plans the outcomes of which we’re truly unaware in spite of our best intentions. Well that’s how it’s usually been for me and I’ve learned to fly by the seat of my pants, going with the flow as the sayings go.


I step out my door, with the only intent being kitchen-style bridge with fellow seniors at the local community centre. Two hours later, I’m in the mood for a stroll and being hungry a favoured spot for a ‘kalbi’ taco.


Along the way, I stroll facing traffic, I happened upon a much more senior fellow crossing the street. The changing traffic signal isn’t programmed for the likes of him, an octogenarian with many more years added and those lined up in traffic are not amused. It was incumbent on me to give assistance, so I signalled with my hand and the streetcar and car alongside were decent enough, and allowed us to make our way to the sidewalk before going along their merry way.


We have never met, much less being aware of each other before literally crossing paths. He’s an ancient Asian and I, a senior multi-national Caribbean born.
I have seen the transition from propeller to jet-engine aircraft. I cannot imagine the transitions in technologies he’s experienced! But, that’s is the nature of things that I wish our language disparity and cultures could bridge, allowing us share how our journey has been along our way.


During my earlier years, after emigrating to this country, I have had the pleasure of many exchanges with strangers, quite often fellow immigrants, mostly eastern Europeans. They disclosed, while I learned and broadened my horizons, oddly enough lightening the load I unconsciously carried. I learned people the world over held a history whose content and context, not only held similarities but also beneficial contributions going forward in Life.


No need to compete, but listen and collaborate, and evolve into the human beings we’re meant to become. The way I’ve learn, anyway …




6. Growing Still

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