Grocery shopping as life lesson – welcome to Cabbagetown. The first time I ventured into the Parliament Street No Frills, in 1986 on our arrival here, I thought it must be like a shop in downtown Beirut – chaotic, bombed-out, abandoned. It has since become more upscale, but not much. Today, with my basket of French cheese, fresh raspberries, garlic, pork chops and endive, I stood in line behind a First Nations man and his silent, hooded female companion, who were buying one box of Kraft Dinner and a small carton of milk. I stood there for quite some time, because they were paying in carefully doled-out pennies and nickles, plus eleven cents for two plastic bags – “one for the garbage,” he explained to her.