Busted locker doors and a baker’s dozen. Canadian flags draped over the front porch and discarded Player’s cigarette boxes. Greasy pizza and pop for $3 with bottle caps everywhere. The Ulster Arms and the Maple Leaf Taverns. Your fingers running through beach sand while dirt is kicked into your face. Rainbow-painted tunnels and computers before high speed Internet. Candle-light blackouts and old photo boxes. A rapidly changing world and endless classroom days. Beckers 25¢ milk jug refunds and smelly library books. The honour of Riverdale CI challenged by the Eastern Commerce Saints at the Danforth Tech rifle range and then at the Monarch Park track. Oh, what will Dale at Jarvis, Doug at East York, and Jane at St. Patrick think? It’s the same old, worn and torn clothes and that brand new prom dress. It’s the Christmas lights we never took down with the laundry we hung out back and out front. Smokey pool halls, dark dripping alleys, rusted gangways, moonlight dives, midnight cards, umbrella-less storms, and menthol kisses.
This is my nostalgic love letter to 1998 Toronto in six chapters.
On hiatus since July 2012 @ 17,757 words.