![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Helping Strangers
Aug. 12th, 2025 08:28 amSince my husband died last December I have felt unsettled and somewhat numb, which troubles me. I have gone through periods of mourning, complete with tears, but felt that I still have not felt his loss deeply enough. I had to deal with many things which kept me busy, and was in touch with members of my family, his family, and old friends of his, all of whom helped me get through the few months since his passing.
I put my house up for sale and took a reasonable offer, but still suffered a financial loss thanks to Trump's tariffs and general stupidity, causing a jittery Canadian economic market. My daughter and her family were living with me, which also helped me feel less lonely.
It's been 50 years since I lived alone. We moved out on June 23rd, and drove from Calgary, Alberta, back to Kelowna, B.C., stopping first in Revelstoke, B.C., a beautiful small city in the Rocky Mountains, and a very healing place. We stayed there for about a week before moving on. Next stop Kelowna, but by this time it was July 1st, a Canadian holiday and long weekend, and the only place we could find to stay was in a ski chalet on top of Big White, a mountain just a half-hour's drive from Kelowna, which is a skier's paradise, but practically empty in summer. The chalet we rented at a discount price was fabulous, overlooking ski lifts going back and forth right beside our chalet. I went for several walks there. The temperature was about 10 degrees cooler than down below. And living in Calgary, which is at a high altitude itself, meant that our lungs had become used to it, so that walking up and down the steep slopes of Big White was not a hardship.
I had a lot of time to think, and long story short, decided to move back to Ontario. My sister missed me a lot and her husband told me later that he felt her health had suffered while I was gone and that she was over the moon that I decided to come back.
Also, I had missed my two sons very much. Last weekend we all got together. Jamie, his wife Katya, their baby Ellie Mae, Katya's mother Irina and her sister Anya, visiting from Palm Springs, CA with her husband and daughter, plus my other son Sean, all came over to my new apartment to see me. They all live out of town.
I ended up babysitting Jamie & Katya's dog while they and Irina went to Ottawa to visit Katya's brother Yasha. Anya wanted to see him too, so they all took off for the weekend.
Fifty years ago I lived in an apartment building on Yonge Street in North Toronto. It was a beautiful area with lovely gardens across the street called Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens. Some of the architecture in that area is stunning. I remember being awed by it as a child. I had an overwhelming desire to live in that area again. When I looked into renting in the same building, I found that unfortunately it didn't allow pets, but a building across the street did. I applied, looked at 3 apartments in the building, and chose a one-bedroom that is a corner unit, has windows overlooking both Yonge Street and Glengrove Avenue on the other side.
I couldn't be happier being back in my old stomping grounds. I've already walked through Alexander Muir Gardens, and trekked down Yonge Street in the 30+ degree heat to check out all the shops. I've already spent too much money on expensive clothing at Colony Blue, a fabulous boutique, and found a Pet Valu store nearby where I bought healthy food for my cats.
I also passed a dental clinic last week called Art of the Smile, went in and made an appointment, which was yesterday. This place was advertising for new patients and looked quite new. I hadn't been to a dentist since before COVID, so I was a bit worried about what they'd find, but surprisingly, I only have a few cavities.
I had applied for Canadian Dental Insurance, so I was covered for anything that might have to be done, but I am still relieved that there won't be much work at all.
Anyway, on my way to the appointment, I was just crossing the front area of my building when I saw a young girl waving to me from across the street. I could see that she was bending down, trying to help an elderly lady lying on the ground. (Not that I'm not elderly myself.) This poor woman had fallen down and was bleeding heavily from her face. She was trying to sit up while also trying to call someone on her phone, her hand all bloody and leaving streaks of blood on the display. I determined that she lived just up Glengrove, which is a small, dead end street with only a few large houses on it. She said, "18 Glengrove", pointing up the street, so I ran to the house to tell whoever I could find what had happened. The first person I saw was a man up a ladder washing the windows. I told him that an elderly lady had fallen, was bleeding, and said she lived there. He looked alarmed, climbed down the ladder, and went around the back, followed by me, and told a middle-aged man named Dave, what I had told him. Dave looked curious and said there was no elderly woman who lived there and could it be the other side of Glengrove (west side of Yonge)? I looked at him with curiosity and said no, that she had specifically pointed up this way and said, "Beside the van", which was parked outside the house.
While I was speaking to Dave, another man came running out and said, "Is it Sherry?" He ran towards the corner where Sherry was now lying on the pavement, surrounded by a few more people. I followed the running man, and Dave followed me.
I looked closely at Sherry and asked a young man standing by if an ambulance had been called. He said yes. I told the group that I had a dentist appointment (and felt stupid doing so) and had to leave, but wanted to make sure that Sherry would be cared for.
Today I still feel guilty that I left, but there were several people with her, including the man who knew her and the other one who puzzled me by initially saying he didn't know her, but who knows? Anyway, across the street on the other corner of Glengrove and Yonge is a hydro sub-station that's actually a gorgeous old stone building that I used to dream of living in when I was a child. (I grew up in the area too.) Next to that building as one walks south, is a plant nursery called Sheridan Nurseries. They have a good selection of both indoor and outdoor plants, and always sell great Christmas stuff. I thought I might go in and buy a plant or something for Sherry and take it up to #18 for her. I just want to make sure she's okay.
Plus, I have to admit I was fascinated by the men living there. They all looked to be in their 50's, and who knows? Sherry herself might not be more than 60, but looked older because of her situation. Her hair was white but since her face was covered in blood, I couldn't really see what she looked like. They also looked like a bunch of artsy people, which is right up my alley. The running man had a long ponytail and Dave also had longish hair. I'll keep everyone posted.
I put my house up for sale and took a reasonable offer, but still suffered a financial loss thanks to Trump's tariffs and general stupidity, causing a jittery Canadian economic market. My daughter and her family were living with me, which also helped me feel less lonely.
It's been 50 years since I lived alone. We moved out on June 23rd, and drove from Calgary, Alberta, back to Kelowna, B.C., stopping first in Revelstoke, B.C., a beautiful small city in the Rocky Mountains, and a very healing place. We stayed there for about a week before moving on. Next stop Kelowna, but by this time it was July 1st, a Canadian holiday and long weekend, and the only place we could find to stay was in a ski chalet on top of Big White, a mountain just a half-hour's drive from Kelowna, which is a skier's paradise, but practically empty in summer. The chalet we rented at a discount price was fabulous, overlooking ski lifts going back and forth right beside our chalet. I went for several walks there. The temperature was about 10 degrees cooler than down below. And living in Calgary, which is at a high altitude itself, meant that our lungs had become used to it, so that walking up and down the steep slopes of Big White was not a hardship.
I had a lot of time to think, and long story short, decided to move back to Ontario. My sister missed me a lot and her husband told me later that he felt her health had suffered while I was gone and that she was over the moon that I decided to come back.
Also, I had missed my two sons very much. Last weekend we all got together. Jamie, his wife Katya, their baby Ellie Mae, Katya's mother Irina and her sister Anya, visiting from Palm Springs, CA with her husband and daughter, plus my other son Sean, all came over to my new apartment to see me. They all live out of town.
I ended up babysitting Jamie & Katya's dog while they and Irina went to Ottawa to visit Katya's brother Yasha. Anya wanted to see him too, so they all took off for the weekend.
Fifty years ago I lived in an apartment building on Yonge Street in North Toronto. It was a beautiful area with lovely gardens across the street called Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens. Some of the architecture in that area is stunning. I remember being awed by it as a child. I had an overwhelming desire to live in that area again. When I looked into renting in the same building, I found that unfortunately it didn't allow pets, but a building across the street did. I applied, looked at 3 apartments in the building, and chose a one-bedroom that is a corner unit, has windows overlooking both Yonge Street and Glengrove Avenue on the other side.
I couldn't be happier being back in my old stomping grounds. I've already walked through Alexander Muir Gardens, and trekked down Yonge Street in the 30+ degree heat to check out all the shops. I've already spent too much money on expensive clothing at Colony Blue, a fabulous boutique, and found a Pet Valu store nearby where I bought healthy food for my cats.
I also passed a dental clinic last week called Art of the Smile, went in and made an appointment, which was yesterday. This place was advertising for new patients and looked quite new. I hadn't been to a dentist since before COVID, so I was a bit worried about what they'd find, but surprisingly, I only have a few cavities.
I had applied for Canadian Dental Insurance, so I was covered for anything that might have to be done, but I am still relieved that there won't be much work at all.
Anyway, on my way to the appointment, I was just crossing the front area of my building when I saw a young girl waving to me from across the street. I could see that she was bending down, trying to help an elderly lady lying on the ground. (Not that I'm not elderly myself.) This poor woman had fallen down and was bleeding heavily from her face. She was trying to sit up while also trying to call someone on her phone, her hand all bloody and leaving streaks of blood on the display. I determined that she lived just up Glengrove, which is a small, dead end street with only a few large houses on it. She said, "18 Glengrove", pointing up the street, so I ran to the house to tell whoever I could find what had happened. The first person I saw was a man up a ladder washing the windows. I told him that an elderly lady had fallen, was bleeding, and said she lived there. He looked alarmed, climbed down the ladder, and went around the back, followed by me, and told a middle-aged man named Dave, what I had told him. Dave looked curious and said there was no elderly woman who lived there and could it be the other side of Glengrove (west side of Yonge)? I looked at him with curiosity and said no, that she had specifically pointed up this way and said, "Beside the van", which was parked outside the house.
While I was speaking to Dave, another man came running out and said, "Is it Sherry?" He ran towards the corner where Sherry was now lying on the pavement, surrounded by a few more people. I followed the running man, and Dave followed me.
I looked closely at Sherry and asked a young man standing by if an ambulance had been called. He said yes. I told the group that I had a dentist appointment (and felt stupid doing so) and had to leave, but wanted to make sure that Sherry would be cared for.
Today I still feel guilty that I left, but there were several people with her, including the man who knew her and the other one who puzzled me by initially saying he didn't know her, but who knows? Anyway, across the street on the other corner of Glengrove and Yonge is a hydro sub-station that's actually a gorgeous old stone building that I used to dream of living in when I was a child. (I grew up in the area too.) Next to that building as one walks south, is a plant nursery called Sheridan Nurseries. They have a good selection of both indoor and outdoor plants, and always sell great Christmas stuff. I thought I might go in and buy a plant or something for Sherry and take it up to #18 for her. I just want to make sure she's okay.
Plus, I have to admit I was fascinated by the men living there. They all looked to be in their 50's, and who knows? Sherry herself might not be more than 60, but looked older because of her situation. Her hair was white but since her face was covered in blood, I couldn't really see what she looked like. They also looked like a bunch of artsy people, which is right up my alley. The running man had a long ponytail and Dave also had longish hair. I'll keep everyone posted.
