What a way to die!

Most people will tell you that they'd rather die peacefully, without pain, even in their sleep.  But I'm not so sure.  Since you only die once, maybe you should have a big, flamboyant exit.  Something like James Cagney in White Heat, climbing to the top of the oil refinery and blowing the whole place to kingdom come.  And there was a guy in Hiroshima right below the bomb, and all that was left of him was his shadow on a wall.

As for what to do with my body, I'd prefer cremation.  My only problem with worms is that they work slowly.  And I don't care for getting a little section of land that posterity has to grant sanctity to.  Tibetans and Parsees feed you to the vultures, which is eco-friendly.  In China they have "tree burials," where they cremate you and plant a tree over your ashes.  I think that's what I'd like best:  the idea of a living memorial appeals to me.  And the tree species I'd prefer is oak.

Hair coloring

When I was a teenager, one of my only heroes was Sex Pistols lead singer Johnny Rotten, whose hair was a flaming orange.  And I didn't even listen to punk rock that much, I just liked the idea of it. Dare to be negative! (I remember the last episode of The Brady Bunch where Bobby was peddling a shampoo that turned Greg's hair orange.  At least they said it was orange--we only had a black and white TV set back then.)

Beatrice, my choir director, used to dye her hair black, but recently she's let it go gray.  I have a few gray hairs, but if anything I'd rather frost my temples to increase their number.

A landmark building

When I was a Ph.D. student, I often visited the Robarts Library on the University of Toronto campus.  I have to admit it looks pretty ugly (though Umberto Eco admires it). Remember those British cartoon adventure shows from the 1960s like Thunderbirds and Captain Scarlet?  Those puppets would be at home in that building.

But it is a great library.  To get to the main stacks you have to take the elevators up to the top floors, so you're studying in an "elevated" milieu. (I like that there's a mezzanine connection between the tenth and eleventh floors, and between the twelfth and thirteenth.)

I've also spent a lot of time on the fourth and fifth floors where they have microfilms and stuff. (They also have a big globe there.) One an earthquake tremor happened in Toronto and I felt it slightly on the fifth floor.

I haven't been there in recent years.  But it has the biggest book collection I've ever encountered.  If the Toronto public library system doesn't have a book, chances are Robarts does have it.

Impromptu speaking

I haven't had a lot of occasions to speak in public.  One came when I was living at Goodenough College in London back in the mid-'90s.  Desiree McGraw organized a recycling group and I helped a lot with it.  I'd take things out to the big recycling bin out on the street.  Unfortunately, at first I didn't realize that in Britain "cans" only mean aluminum cans. (Tin cans they call "tins.") I also took some stuff up to the big recycling center in Camden Town.

A lot of beer and wine bottles accumulated in a smelly basement room.  One time I was taking away a big load for recycling.  When Mrs. Vickers the warden saw me carrying them, she thought they were my bottles and said, "I hadn't thought you were a drinking man." That was really funny to me because, like my parents, I never drink.

So the occasion for me to speak came near the end of my stay when my residence, William Goodenough House, had a big meeting.  Unexpectedly, it was up to me to speak about the recycling program.  So I got up and talked about how we were doing it and encouraged other volunteers.  I did it pretty well.  In fact, some people were impressed that I managed to do it in two minutes flat!

The best therapy (marijuana)

I really can't say anything about smoking pot.  I've never smoked it or noticed anyone else smoking it.  But I will say that it should be legalized and regulated, not because it's totally harmless but because its illegal status just makes it more harmful.  That goes for other drugs too.  History will look back on the "war on drugs" as a prolonged disaster.

I once saw a drug transaction on the northeast corner of St. Clair & Oakwood.  A couple of scruffy-looking guys exchanged money and a pill capsule.  They weren't bothering me, and I didn't bother them.

Classroom fights

(This is a subject I suggested.)

I'm not the type who usually gets into fights.  But I remember when I was twelve.  I was a sensitive kid, and some kids gave me a hard time.  Grownups expected me to ignore it all and call that a solution, but I got angrier and angrier.

One spring day, in science class we had a complicated experiment to do involving Bunsen burners.  We normally did these experiments in teams of two, but for this one the teams were paired into groups of four.  Now this science teacher bore a grudge against my family because my university professor father had given her husband a failing grade, as a result of which he couldn't graduate.  Now she paired me and my lab partner with the two people she knew good and well I didn't get along with.  I begged her to pair us with someone else, but she wouldn't listen.

I ended up hitting one of these guys, and got sent to the principal's office. (No consequences for the other guy.) Later, when I told my mother about it, she got really angry.  Getting mad at the teacher and the school was her second reaction; her first was to get mad at me.  My parents were so angry that they actually took me out of school for a whole week, until they lost their nerve.  I was a bit resentful:  they shouldn't have suggested this course of action if they didn't mean it.  But Mother simply couldn't think of anything else to do about it.

I also got in a fight that fall.  I'd made a promise to myself, "If this guy bothers me one more time, I will let my fists fly." (It was the only way I could get through the day.) Then one day, before long, I had to deliver on my promise.  This time I didn't tell my parents, and they only found out when the school phoned them.

Snowstorms

I used to like snow when I was little.  We had a big yard compared to Toronto, so we sometimes got big snowdrifts!  Then we'd need the big scoop shovel to clear the driveway. (We never bought a snow blower.) The last winter snowstorm would often happen around St. Patrick's day.

Days when school was cancelled because of snow weren't uncommon in rural New Brunswick.  But not all winters were the same.  I remember one year when they started a cross-country skiing group in my junior high school, but there was never enough snow for it!

Snowmobilers would sometimes pass through our property. (They killed a couple of our trees.) I've never ridden a snowmobile myself.  I prefer stuff like tobogganing and skating.

There aren't a lot of big snowstorms in Toronto these days.  But when one happens, I remember my youth.