As has been my habit for the past year, when my wife can’t work from home but has to go in to the office, I act as her pack mule, carrying her laptop and other gear so she can walk and avoid the subway. My pack mule duties double as photo walk time for me, almost the only time I go out with a camera these days. To be honest, I haven’t been out for weeks. Months. Something has completely interrupted my routine, although I can’t think what.
In the afternoon, I headed downtown to pick up my wife. A beautiful day. Sunny. 15 degrees. Running shoes instead of boots. Hat instead of toque. On the guard rail down to Mt. Pleasant Rd. there was a guy holding a “Stop Asian Hate” sign. I assume he was Caucasian, although it was hard to tell given the peaky cap and bandana. I asked if I could take his photo and he was only to happy to pose. We chatted for a bit. I asked whether he was responding specifically to the shooting in Atlanta or offering a more general message. He said he’d been marching with the #BLM movement last year and was offering the same message here: talk to one another, engage one another, be kind. He said people honked and waved as they drove past. Every now and then, somebody yelled something stupid, but mostly people were supportive.
This is the first time in months that I’ve been out with my camera and have interacted with a live human being. It’s as if I’ve been holding my breath all winter and can suddenly let it out (while still wearing a mask, of course). It gave me such a lift to chat with a stranger. Of course I will continue to exercise caution, but it was nice to get outside and rediscover that I’m not traveling through this life in my own little bubble after all. If people my grandparents’ age had gone through this, right about now they’d be singing Vera Lynn: “We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when.”
I went on to Yonge Street, then down to Dundas Square where an Asian guy was stepping out into the street and holding a sign over his head. He was yelling at people to follow Jesus and to stop having kids. However, his verbal message didn’t quite line up with his written message which seems okay with people humping like rabbits. One of the brilliant things about freedom of expression is that it includes the freedom to be incoherent. I miss the nuts. I really do. The city is bland and block-headed without them.
