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Peace cannot exist where justice is not served: John Lewis

I love cycling, as regular readers might possibly have gathered. It is a wonderful thing to get from A to B using muscles outside in the (sort of) fresh air. Sailing past a line of furious cars doesn’t hurt either. But more and more, I breathe a sigh of relief when I actually get home safely. The city is madder than ever with speeding autos and trucks, but now, there are heavy e-bikes and scooters zipping along the few bike lanes. Yesterday a heedless Uber Eats e-bike careened by so close to me, he nearly knocked me over. Then a driver in an expensive sports car accelerated and wove in and out as if he was in a grand prix race. No police anywhere, of course.

The Star reported yesterday that the second busiest city for construction in North America, Seattle, has 45 construction cranes in place, while Los Angeles, the third, has 30.

Toronto has 240. It’s first. Six times more construction than Seattle.

The chaos everywhere makes drivers even angrier and endangers cyclists even more, with blocked bike lanes and heavy trucks. And do any of those massive towers going up contain affordable, geared-to-income units? You know the answer. Profit all the way, baby.

Okay. First world problems. It’s hard to listen to the news, but there’s been a ray of light: Joe Biden, the grownup in the room, a voice of reason calling for restraint. Let’s hope those in power on both sides are listening. Almost surely, they are not. Those insisting on the annihilation of Hamas don’t seem to understand that those terrorist fighters have sons who will grow up with violent hatred in their hearts. As will the sons of those murdered in Israel. And so on we go. How can this possibly end, ever?

Okay. Devastating problems, but nothing I can do.

U of T class Tuesday evening, a great group with students Zooming in from Winnipeg, Edmonton, and Bogata, Colombia, as well as TO. Last night, my home class, mostly a rehearsal for So True coming up on Saturday afternoon. Such good writing and good readers. I’m proud to have helped these writers not only hone their pieces but be comfortable, clear, and direct on a stage. It’s not a reading. It’s a show.

Yesterday, my annual mammogram, needed because my mother had breast cancer. I left on my bike at 11.55 for a 12.20 appointment and was out of the hospital by 12.45. Extraordinary efficiency! Let’s hope all is well. Had the results of blood tests, too — all in the normal range. Grateful they’re keeping an eye on this old bird.

It’s dark and wet out there today. But that didn’t stop Anna from taking Ben to a protest at Chrystia Freeland’s office to demand a ceasefire. My grandsons learned to write making placards and signs. They, I pray, will continue to grow up in a relatively peaceful country in a relatively stable home. And that is the greatest blessing of all.



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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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