Dear Drake,
You and I have never met so I hesitate to call you by your given name, Aubrey, but it’s times like these where it’s important to talk to the man your Mama raised, and not the superstar visage the world has grown to know.
Dear Drake,
You and I have never met so I hesitate to call you by your given name, Aubrey, but it’s times like these where it’s important to talk to the man your Mama raised, and not the superstar visage the world has grown to know.
I may be a couple of months early, but it came to me that one of my all-time favourite recordings celebrated a birthday just short of 2 weeks ago. And in the midst of this sonic revelry I was reminded that during the first Friday of most every month throughout 1967 and into ‘68, I was formally excused from school so that my mother could take me all the way to Toronto for special orthodontic appointments.
I am a Torontonian. I was born in East York at East General Hospital 50 years ago this coming Tuesday and raised in Scarborough – both originally neighbouring boroughs of Toronto. I’ve always considered these places suburbs of Toronto anyway and it was made official when they were amalgamated into the new City of Toronto in 1998. I worked for the City of Scarborough for 12 years leading up to the annexing of all the Metropolitan Toronto territories (which also
included North York, York, and Etobicoke). 44 out of my 50 years have been spent living here. I’ve lived in the shadows both Yorkdale and Cedarbrae malls, on the eastern leg of The Danforth, and in the belly of Malvern when it was still radioactive but before it became a hideout for drug gangs and a haven for grow-ops. I’ve communed at the wolf den on the outskirts of the Metro Toronto Zoo and gone swimming in Lake Ontario at the foot of the Rouge River.