For a memorable, meaningful, and particular moment of time, this image encapsulates what was the very centre of my universe

As captured contemporaneously, and found in the City of Toronto Archives, and surfaced by BlogTO

The spirit of radio, according to the late, great Dave Marden:

• Love
• caring a lot about music and artists
• having the freedom to say whatever you want and be whomever you want
• and hope, in the process, the listeners learn all those things and they take them and spread them to their world

The documentary that is quoted from was such a throwback (along with the other throwbacks this month) and reminder of how found families were made before we were connected by bits and bytes.

Two-hundred and thirteen years ago today, a British general died fighting alongside hundreds of Brits, and a few hundred Indigenous soldiers in one of the key battles to prevent the US from capturing what would become Canada.

Coincidentally, Canada celebrates Thanksgiving around this time, and this year I crafted a local cocktail recipe to honour the region and those who fought to protect it.

Brock's Boulevardier builds on the classic Boulevardier, substituting a Niagara rye whisky and a sweet vermouth made about 30 km away from where the battle took place. For a final touch, a blood orange is used to mark the sacrifice that helped make a country.

Brock's Boulevardier

Ingredients

(Ratio is 3:2:1.5 of Dillon's rye:Campari:Dillon's sweet vermouth)

750mL bottle

• 300 mL Dillon's rye whisky
• 200 mL Campari
• 150 mL Dillon's sweet vermouth
• 13 dashes Angostura

Single drink

• 45 mL Dillon’s rye,
• 30 mL Campari,
• 22 mL Dillon’s weet vermouth,
• 2 dashes Angostura.

Method

1. For the bottle:
   1. Combine everything in a 750 mL bottle (about 70 mL headroom). Cap it, tip it gently to mix, and chill in the freezer or fridge for about 20 hours.
2. For a single serving:
   1. Combine everything in a chilled mixing container, stir.
3. Pour a generous serving over one large ice cube in a rocks glass.
4. Express an blood orange peel over each glass.
5. Decorate with a sliced blood orange on the rim

Toronto’s transit authority, serving millions of people, sent a note letting me know my email address was included in a gigantic, accidental CC reply:

The disclosure was due to human error during the distribution of the email. Specifically, recipients' email addresses were visible to one another when the email was sent.

So what did they do?

Sent another mass email with this simple request:

We are requesting that all recipients permanently delete the email from their inboxes, sent folders, deleted items, archives, and any other storage locations, and refrain from further using, sharing, copying, or disclosing any email addresses contained within the message. We appreciate your cooperation in helping to protect the privacy of all affected individuals.

Problem solved.

Phew.

Hoping they can solve the streetcar delay issues just as easily.

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Postscript

At least they did try to recall the email after sending it (there were 500 addresses on the message I got…).

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He saw the best minds of his generation burn like fabulous roman candles (to mix literary clichés).

Sixty-nine years ago today, his second book was tragically celebrated, ten years after the events it depicted.

And today I biked through my old university campus.

I would never have been there when I was had I not followed his footsteps to, in our youth, study writing in the heart of our Big Cites.

Through his works I found The Way again, which meant I was able to find everything else again.

I’ve read his words blurry-eyed while riding buses across the continent and sitting in smoke-filled cafés.

I’ve read his words translated again into foreign languages I almost speak.

(Amazing how much those letters typed on a continuous scroll of paper resonated despite the problematic prose they created.)

Despite all that, it wasn’t him, but a remembrance of him abstracted through distant observers’ silent performances (and sonic ones, too) that shifted my gaze to this famous story of a first-generation immigrant’s time on the road.  

And today I still know, as I’ve always known, (even before I was born) that God truly
is Pooh Bear

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Quick, raw, take:

Pecorino romano cheese (or good Parmigiano Reggiano) plus aged prosciutto (and maybe with some seasonal fresh fruit or veg) = best simple pleasure in the world.

Especially with the crunch of good tarallini (or even just roasted almonds).

I tried to copy a suggestion for an AI prompt from LinkedIn on my iPhone to share with myself via email.

LinkedIn wouldn’t let me copy the text.

So I took a screenshot — and then used Apple’s built in OCR technology to copy the text I wanted.

LinkedIn prevented me from making use of the value its network provides. Once again, then, I turned to one of Apple’s best (and most underrated) features to do what I wanted. A perfect example of how one company’s loud use of AI misses the mark while another’s “boring” implementation does what people need.

(Every time I use “Live Text” I feel like I’m living in the future. Silly, I know. But also reliably true.)