Summer NOT in the City
I’ve been laying low these past few months. Not that I haven’t had opinions – I’ve had plenty. But I was told if you can’t say something nice, say nothing at all.
Toronto is a modern, multicultural, international city with plenty of world-class activities. Recently they hosted the Pan-Am Games, last weekend was the Molson Indy, there was much excitement over the Raptors Pro-basketball team making it into the finals, there are the Toronto Blue Jays baseball team, the Toronto Argonauts of the Canadian Football League, Toronto FC play Pro soccer and, of course, the hapless Toronto Maple Leafs hockey team for whom I shudder to use the term “Professional”.
However, as far as I am concerned the only difference between Toronto and Beirut is that Beirut has less potholes. Words cannot describe how happy I am to gone.
My feelings were further reinforced this afternoon when I walked to the Post Office. Canada Post is a unique, unionized, government-owned corporation whose employees are paid handsomely to run inefficiently and are currently close to going on strike, again. To mail a standard letter or postcard within Canada, a postage stamp costs $1.00, plus 13% sales tax. Because Canada no longer uses pennies, the cost is rounded up to $1.15. A letter to the US is $1.20, again, plus 13% sales tax of 16¢, rounded down to a total cost of $1.35.
Yes and to my absolute astonishment the first time I mailed a post card back to the States, I put $1.35 worth of postage on a 35¢ post card.
New housing developments do not get mail delivery to their homes. The Post Office locates “Super Boxes” in the community, where home owners stop to pick up their mail.
Here in this part of Niagara-On-The-Lake, we don’t even get a Super Box. We are assigned a P.O. Box inside the Post Office where we go to collect our mail. Today, it was a beautiful day to walk. I went through the local arena and park. It was warm with a slight wind in the near silence of a non-city environment.
I was very much reminded of being in my early teens in Ottawa, living just a few houses away from the grassy Fisher Heights Public School yard where the neighborhood kids gathered to play during the summer break. Now, it seems idyllic. Now, Fisher Heights Public School is known as the Ottawa Islamic School.
I often wonder if every generation has the same lament: times were so much better when I was growing up. I don’t think anyone will disagree that the world is rapidly going mad. As Dennis Miller says, “Train wrecks are slowing down to look at us.” We’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the Trump/Hillary circus and the countdown to this year’s US elections.
I don’t mail letters any more but I appreciate you folks who do and are paying the 13% tax which goes toward my government pension check. I’d appreciate it if you could make sure it doesn’t bounce.
As a fellow blogger and crotchety old geezer, Andy, from myoldrv.com says, “I am not obligated to participate in this bullcrap.” I’ll sit here in the peace and quiet of a small town, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, reminiscing about the idyllic lazy days of summer back when I was smart enough not to know anything.