About a month ago, I saw the front page of a local paper: "Girl's screams save her life." I became unhappy. I was unhappy because this headline seemed to declare that if you don't scream, you aren't helped. If you don't scream, that's why it happened to you. It declared this in ign . . . (More)

I noticed him because he sat with the sort of posture that eluded most of the adult passengers in the car, and a stillness impossible for others of his age. He was a small Portuguese boy; his hair was the colour of coffee with milk, cut short and neat, shiny and fine. H . . . (More)

Lately, it seems the TTC suffers ever more mechanical problems with its streetcars. Yesterday, as the last passenger struggled off at Queen, the doors seemed to linger a moment, before suddenly slamming shut with more force than usual, causing a loud, rattling bang -- which made one man, in a . . . (More)

Two boys, on their way with other friends to a game of pick-up soccer, fell through a frozen pond yesterday. One, an eleven-year-old, is dead. The other, fifteen, is fighting for his life at Sick Children's Hospital. Both boys, after ignoring the warnings of their friends, stepped onto th . . . (More)

Today, I saw the blind leading the blind.They were an elderly Chinese couple -- he was tall, and sported a long, scraggly beard in the manner of wise men; she wore her hair bound back in a colourfully embroidered wrap, like the women of her homeland. They both grasped canes, but he led; as the su . . . (More)

Urban chivalry: I'm standing on the escalator descending towards St. Patrick station when I notice the suit of the man in front of me -- soft grey, with subtle but distinct pinstripes. He's laden with things; he carries a load of folders under one arm, and like so many businessmen in the city, ho . . . (More)

As I board the streetcar, I glance around, to see that the only other passenger is a TTC officer, dressed in full grey and maroon regalia. There is a protective white wrapper over his hat -- probably for the rain earlier in the day. He looks at me with clear, light eyes; they stand out against . . . (More)

Tuesday evening. St. Patrick's subway station. As the doors close and the train begins to pick up speed, the unmistakable buzz of the public announcement system clicks on. I wait for the usual "Next station, Osgoode. Osgoode station." Chh. Chh. Chh.Testing, testing, one two three, I think.Chh- . . . (More)

I have been enjoying the services of the TTC on almost every day for over two years -- and including today, I have now encountered on it a total of two people clipping their nails (finger or toe: unknown).That is two too many.Gross.

The full bloom of August -- dazzlingly, oppressively, bakingly hot. On the corner of Gerrard East and Leslie, under the shade of a helpful tree, a fit, young member of Toronto's Finest is standing in full, authoritative, masculine uniform -- shiny mirrored shades, dark navy shirt, navy hat, navy . . . (More)