That's one perspective, anyway

I consider myself extremely lucky to live in the heart of midtown Toronto. It’s an area that’s bustling with life 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Kitty-corner to where we live is a small parkette, frequently occupied by people on the fringes of the city’s existence. While there have been no encampments as there have been in other downtown communities, it can get quite sketchy, especially at night. On the other hand, it’s also a gathering spot for spontaneous musical and dance performances and the occasional protest.

On September 15, 2021, I decided to undertake my ethnographic research on this particular corner. I focused mostly on the people who stopped and stayed for a time in the parkette, since the pedestrian population was quite transient. It turns out that the characters who populated the park during my 45-minute visit offered plenty of material worth observing.

I genuinely love talking to people and learning their stories. It comes from a time earlier in my life when I worked as a journalist; perhaps that’s why I chose journalism as a profession in the first place. When I find someone who’s willing to talk, especially someone as colourful as the person you’re about to meet, it energizes me.

1:19 pm I find myself a seat on a stone wall in the parkette at the southeast corner of Bloor Street West and Spadina Avenue. The space is full of people, mostly men. A gorgeous, late-summer day at an urban parkette.

1:20 pm A group of men sit to my left. One of them is drinking a beer. Could they be Indigenous? Many Indigenous people spend time in this parkette. 

1:21 pm Two pigeons are directly in front of me. They are facing each other, beak to beak. They look like they're kissing. 

1:23 pm On a bench to my right sits an older man in a blue summer shirt. A younger man with a motorized bicycle stops to speak with him. Older man intones, “Academics don’t rule the world. They never invent things.” Anti-intellectual?

1:24 pm Next to the man with the blue shirt, another, younger man sleeps on the adjoining bench with a t-shirt over his eyes. Is it a man? Hard to tell with the face covered like that. Could be anyone.

1:25 pm Another young man who’d left a little earlier returns to the seat next to mine and sits down with a snack. He has reddish hair and is wearing pink shorts and a grey t-shirt. He looks like could be a student. He appears to have a hearing aid in his left ear. He also reminds me of someone I know.

1:27 pm The man to my immediate left is finishing a cigarette. It occurs to me that this is a smell you don’t encounter much anymore.

1:29 pm A man with baggy shorts and a tank top t-shirt arrives on a bike. He has salt-and-pepper dreadlocks and a beard, and he sprinkles the remains of macaroni and cheese on the ground. The pigeons circle around it and start to eat. On his bike, he carries what look like cleaning supplies (spray bottles). Perhaps he’s one of those people who approach drivers at intersections and offer to clean their windows.

1:34 pm The smoker gets up and leaves. At least one squirrel and a chickadee join in eating the food on the ground. Why are there no women in this parkette?

1:35 pm The man who sprinkled the food lights up a smoke. Based on the way he’s lighting it (i.e., not up to his lips), I suspect it’s a joint. It sure smells like one.

1:37 pm I’ve changed seats. I’m now seated on the next bench over from the man in the blue shirt, who commends my computer skills. He describes himself as a Luddite. I’m now sitting directly in the sunlight. It feels glorious, and a little reckless.

1:39 pm One of the three men who’d been sitting to my left gets up and moves to a bench on the other side of the man in the blue shirt. The man with the blue shirt - I later learn that his name is Hans Joachim Plania - continues to opine from his perch. Who’s in the audience seems less important than that he has one.

1:40 pm The macaroni and cheese is gone. I hope those birds aren’t lactose intolerant!

1:42 pm Hans is sharing his story of growing up in post-war Europe, and how his mother used to cook pigeon. “Not much meat on them, but with gravy and mashed potatoes, very, very good.”

1:45 pm I ask Hans where he grew up. He says Germany. “West Germany at the time.” He worked in display design. He moved to Canada in 1963 and lived right in the neighbourhood, on Bedford Road. “That’s when you could call Canada paradise.” He tells me he started this line of work right after he got out of the army. I don’t want to ask which army it was. I’m a little worried.

1:47 pm An Asian man and woman come to the parkette and sit where I had been seated initially. They face in opposite directions while the woman stares at her phone and the man stares into space. I wonder if this behaviour is a microcosm of their relationship.

1:48 pm Hans got a ticket for drinking a beer on his front steps two days after he arrived in Canada. He also talks about hanging out at the El Mocambo and buying beers for the Rolling Stones. This guy’s either a fabulist or has some really interesting history.

1:53 pm Now he’s asking me my religion. He tells me he’s Jewish, after I confirm that I am, and that his family converted to Catholicism in the 1800s. I’m starting to feel more than a little uncomfortable.

1:54 pm He asks me to Google his name to see his artwork. He asks how old I am, and tells me that he’s 80. “You could punch my name into that thing” - meaning my laptop - “and see it for yourself.” We try. He seems surprised that it doesn’t show up.

1:55 pm Lots of connections to the old Jewish community in downtown Toronto. He asks if he can come over and sit next to me to look at my computer.  We’re deep in conversation. He doesn’t want me to wear my mask. “The virus could also get in through your eyes and ears, you know.” He’s sitting far too close for comfort, especially during a pandemic. I notice his eyes - bright blue - and his hands, the hands of a worker. My great-uncle Chaim, who was a tool and dye maker, had the same kind of hands.

1:57 pm Speaks of his six trips to Israel. Doesn’t provide much detail, other than that he possibly played soccer there. It feels kind of like a “some of my best friends are” moment.

1:59 pm “I read too much history.” Something doesn’t quite add up. If he’s 80 years old, he would have been three or four when the war ended. How does he know what Rommel did or didn’t do?

2:01 pm Reminiscing about restaurants and pubs in the area - the Brunswick House, the Continental Hungarian, the Pilot in Yorkville. He talks about Douglas, the little person (“midget,” Hans calls him)  who used to sing Irish songs at the Brunswick House. “What was the name of that song?” I nail it on the first try with Danny Boy.

2:02 pm He starts criticizing English history for the country’s role in slavery. “It was a crime, what they did to the Irish.” Now we’re firmly into stream of consciousness territory. I’m amused, and a little disheartened, that a man of his age who fought with the German army can criticize another country’s history.

2:03 pm We talk about a Netflix series called Okkupert (Occupied), a fictional story about a Russian invasion of Norway. This feels like somewhat safer territory.

2:05 pm Hans talks about the last days of the war and mentions Rommel’s lack of organizational skill. Well, I think, that’s one perspective.