Whither Toronto?
A Special Kind of Hate
Why do I hate that city so much?
I know that I am not alone with this. Many of my fellow Canadians have very strong opinions about T.O., Hogtown, the Economic Heart of Canada…and That Place. But there is no hate like the hate that grows and festers like the one from someone who lives in close proximity to that town.
I was born in Hamilton, but I could have been a Torontonian. My family, like many from the same set of islands in the Caribbean, settled in Southern Ontario for work and the opportunity to give their families a better chance at educating their kids and having some sort of place to set themselves up and own a plot of land that had real value. My relatives lived in my hometown, and in Ancaster, Brantford, Grimsby, Kitchener-Waterloo (always spoken of as a hyphenate), Mississauga, Oakville…and That City. I often enjoyed visiting these families and sharing stories about our lives both here and the ones I never knew back in the islands. They were moments that I learned from; they were the encounters I cherish. They were pleasant memories that never faded.
And then there were the times when I had to go to T.O. and meet…them.
That sounds ominous and I better be clear about things.
I loved my relatives. I still love them, no matter what patch of land they stand on. I wanted to know what they were up to and what their lives were like. There was no problem with hearing them talk about their problems and disappointments. Who did not have them? But there was something different with the conversations I had with the ones who settled in Toronto. There was always something else.
What was that other thing?
There always seemed to be some sort of battle being fought that I could not win, even when all I did was ask a question. It was as if I was being denied the terms of a fight without even knowing that I was in a fight. And I noticed this with them, the people I met at school, in shops, bus and subway passengers, and so on. It just seemed to be a way for them to assert some advantage that was not clear to us other Hosers.
And there was the other bigger issue; the one that I could not dismiss, even as a child: Money.
Money seemed to be the other thing that That City wanted to take from us. I first noticed this on a school trip. We went to see a performance of Hamlet – very modern dress; my Catholic teachers hated it – and then went to a café for lunch before seeing the rest of the city. My mother had given me a ten-dollar bill for that meal…and I could not even afford a sandwich. I had to look around at everyone else being well-fed while I had a soda and snack that tasted very bitter. And let me make it clear that this was back in the 1980s. I could only imagine what prices are like there now with the added news about ridiculous housing prices and overpriced…everything everywhere (the talk about housing was no better forty years ago). Now, maybe it is wrong for a child to care about the cost of things before even having their first real job, but it was a fantastic economic lesson and one that I never forgot. Please pass it on to your own family.
And finally, the Toronto Maple Leafs…
I cannot help but quote two jokes that I found online about the team that is now the proud owner of the longest drought since winning, or even appearing, in the final round of the playoffs:
Q: Why can’t Hamilton have a real hockey team (this is a comment posted when Gary Bettman, our beloved head of the National Hockey League, denied our hometown our own team)?
A: Because then Toronto will want one.
Ha, ha. Anyway, here is number two:
Q: Why should you never go drinking with a Leafs fan?
A: Because they can never make it past the first round.
I prefer the second one, and it did make my brother laugh when I shared it with him just before this season began. He is the reason why I refuse to be a Leafs fan. For many years, he was as devoted as I was to the Montreal Canadians. That was in the glorious 70s, one of the eras where the Stanley Cup seemed to belong to them. And then, after years of living in the Golden Horseshoe, he rebelled. More importantly, he broke my heart and started rooting for those Bozos on Blades, the Toronto Make-Me-Laughs, the Blue and White Boys Brigade (just not as useful as the original). Every season, he comes back with his high hopes for the team; every playoff, he discusses their prospects for the next season. I know that he is a victim of geography and the cumulative desperation in the air. But I want my brother back. That team has its own embarrassing history, but I do not have the inclination or the time to cover fifty-five years of disappointment in one article (just click here for the depressing news).
So, there it is... This is my honest breakdown of what I consider certain problems with the Great White Nothing to the north of my old piece of real estate. If any of you have a problem with the truth, set yourself free...and suck it up...
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About the Creator
Kendall Defoe
Teacher, reader, writer, dreamer... I am a college instructor who cannot stop letting his thoughts end up on the page.
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