George Gallstone

George's earliest memories were older kids at the orphanage beating him. In time, George beat up younger kids himself. Nobody there knew their real name, age or birthdays ... they were just assigned these by the staff. They named him George and made his birthday April 23rd and, because Mr. Wirtz was taken to the emergency room that night, his last-name became Gallstone. They figured he was six. He grew up fast and was mean and strong but could turn on his charm when he needed to.

One night, when he felt ready, he stole the biggest knife he found in the kitchen, it had a solid black handle, and ran away. He walked North, up towards Bloor Street and robbed at knife-point the first three people he met ... he got almost a hundred bucks and two watches. It was enough to get into a boarding house at Queen and Strachan. Next day he bought himself some decent clothes. He got some cigars at a tobacconist's at Queen and Shaw where he met Amelia, a plump sad looking girl a few years older. Every night he went out mugging drunks and every day he got himself cigars chatting up Amy and her elderly parents. A month later he asked her to marry him and they were happy to accept the young, nice looking commercial traveller George Gladstone as a son in law. The dowry was the store with the small apartment above and the parents retired to Oakville where they had a little cottage. 

George ran the store well and, after a while, bought a building up on College and then another further West becoming a successful landlord. He cheated on his wife and beat her often but never left her because she was such a great cook.

One night Amelia called the police. She told them that she got home to find George dead on the kitchen floor, stabbed thru the heart. The constable looked at the huge kitchen knife with the solid black handle and concluded that it was a robbery gone bad. 

They never found out who did it. Amelia never remarried and started a soup kitchen right in time for the Great Depression of 1929.

       

Tria Chéria

All this happened years ago, at the monastery of "Saint Ignatius of Antioch" of Sokolski, about 10km from Gabrovo, near the village of Charkovo. I stood fascinated in front of the famous miracle-working icon of Maria-Tria-Chéria. An old monk was busy around the church occasionally looking over to me. I was prepared for this moment but actually seeing it so close, took my breath away. I examined it carefully inch-by-inch. It was most magnificent, a true masterpiece. 

I turned my head was surprised to find the monk standing next to me - he was in his seventies, with a full white beard and rich braid on his back from under his black toque. He held two huge yellowish wax candles, one in each hand. I bowed "Good morning, father!" He replied in good but heavily accented English: "God bless you, my son, welcome to our house. I am Father Postolin." I told him how far I came to see it and proudly showed off telling of my studies, the opinions and theories on origins and the meaning of the icon. He listened smiling and nodding and after I finished, rolled his eyes: "Son, the truth is simpler, always, or have you not heard of Father Ockham, of Ockham's Razor fame? He was a Franciscan, not of our faith, but nevertheless learned and wise. Truth is that many years ago, Father Bogumil the Blessed, greatest Icon painter of his days, who always said that one wrote icons, not painted them, he worked on this one icon here for many, many weeks and all could see it's beauty. He finished it but for the decision on Mary's hands, he was uncertain and, for now, he left all three. Thereafter which he retired to his cell to pray to God to guide him on his doubts and later he went to the cellars for the plum spirits for which the monastery was so famous. Father Bogumil the Blessed, greatest Icon painter of his days, he did like a drop or two, but that cold February night he may have had more than a drop or two and fell down on the floor where the abbot found him in the morning. Thus, with God, in His wisdom, calling to him his son, Father Bogumil the Blessed, greatest Icon painter of his days, the icon stayed untouched as you see her before you now." 

I was stunned, could not move, my mouth gaping. Father Postolin shook my hand warmly and said: "Go in peace, my son and with you shall go my blessings."  

Yun-Lin and the Oscar

This is Chen Yun-Lin and his two sons, Patrick and Avery, as I met them at a poker tournament downtown. He is ranked 25,052nd in the world and #319 nationally with life-time winnings of $2,894. We went for tea and ice-cream and he told me his story. Years ago,  in his native Seoul, he was a bright economics student active in the "Wild Strawberry Movement". After graduation, he came to Toronto and was hired by a major investment house. His boss, Bob, was a jerk and a bully and a liar who made everybody's life miserable. In his domestic life, Bob was uxorious; his wife Evy was famous for her awesome physical beauty and fierce, ferocious jealousy. One day, when they went to see a client, Yun-Lin planted a pair of sexy panties under the seat in Bob's car. An enormous scandal ensued both at Bob's home (where Evy broke Bob's nose with a bottle o Chablis) and at work where the truth somehow came out and Mr. Chen was fired (he went back to Seoul). Over drinks with his old university buddy Bong Jun-Ho, a struggling screen-writer, Yun-Lin talked about Toronto and told the story of the planted panties. While in Korea, Yun-Lin met Ran Chae-Won, a dazzling and successful graphic designer. They and fell in love, got married (Jun-Ho was the best man) and moved to Toronto where both found good jobs, bought a house and had two kids. Recently Jun-Ho, by this time a successful moviemaker, came to visit and to show off the Oscar he won. They had a great time over a huge traditional meal with lots of drinks and talked about the old days when they were poor and how well they eventually did (Yun-Lin and Chae-won didn't have the heart to tell him they haven't seen any of his movies). Jun-Ho kept laughing and pointing to the Oscar saying that Yun-Lin owned a piece of that. After Jun-Ho left to catch the red-eye to LAX, Yun-Lin asked his wife: "Do you have any idea what he meant about me owning a piece of his Oscar?"   

Tereza Micu

This is Tereza Micu of Gerstenberg, Altenburger Land, Thuringia, Germany. When I met her, she was recovering from a traumatic breakup with her girlfriend Amy. One day, Amy said that she will be travelling across the seas, she said that she still loves her and that she will be sending her a present as a token of her love and asked what gift she would wishing to be owning. Tereza totally fell off the floor and replied that Amy is her true and only love and the best gift is for her to be returning unspoiled from her voyage, of course, and tomorrow the only thing she be wanting from her again is what she has today. When, during the tearful conversation, Amy kept saying that she may be a longer while, so a token of love would serve well to her being remembered by, Tereza started fearing that Amy won't be returning back no more. Not one to give up easily though, Tereza asked what the returning would be depending on and her sweet little heart sank when Amy said that it would mostly depending on how she's feeling. 

I touched her shoulder in a gesture of friendship and respect and asked if she, in the end, did she be telling Amy what she be wanting. Tereza, she just stared and sighed and said that "Yes" she did be saying. When I got up to leave her to her sorrow, my eyes fell on her feet ... she wore a splendid pair of Spanish boots of Spanish leather.

Meredith Baughan

This is Meredith Baughan born in Bangor, Gwynedd, Wales. Some linguists say her name comes from old Gaelic and means "Heroic warlord" others believe it is "Quick-witted and skillful with the sword". IMO, same difference!

I met her at King and Victoria, we had coffee and she told me her story ... When she was two, her parents sold their small dairy farm, emigrated to the US and settled in Boston. Meredith does not recall any of this. They never liked it there and moved to Toronto where they opened a small chip shop on Dundas East. Meredith remembers going to school reeking of fried fish and rancid oil and being bullied. She was an exceptional student but a violent loner. She was admitted to Western to study Chemistry but dropped out when her novel (What an Hour Brings) was published and made the shortlist for the Windham-Cambell literary prize. She did not win and went into a tail-spin, was arrested twice for drunk and disorderly and once for aggravated assault (against a juror of Windham-Cambell). She was released on bail and was not charged. She never wrote anything again and currently runs her parent's chip shop with a staff of disadvantaged youngsters whom she teaches and trains to cook. 

Last February, she traveled to Wales with the urn of her parent's ashes. At night, she entered the "G H Griffits & Co" Dairy Farmers, Plas Newydd, Pwllheli, Gwynedd (LL53 6NG) and spread their remains on the premises of the farm they once owned. The next day Meredith went to Cardiff and was one of the 73,931 spectators at the Principality Stadium to see Wales beating England 21 - 13. 

When Meredith walks, tall and slim, she reminds me of a birch tree that decided to pick up and move for fear that standing still would wither it.

Carlotta Zinaida Zampieri

This is Carlotta Zinaida Zampieri last descendent from an ancient Venetian family, as I met her the other day at Ossington Station. Her great-great-great-great grandmother was born in Venice in 1791 and was one of the most famous beauties and courtesans of the city. We had coffee and she told me her story. In 1819, the fabulously wealthy count Ostrovski, offered one million gold ducats for the courtesans exclusivity but she, free spirit (she fucked for fun), stabbed him in the eye with her ivory umbrella killing him instantly. Carlotta (all Zampieri women carried the name "Carlotta") had to flee Venice and went to live in Clichy, just outside of Paris. She married and had one daughter, who married and had one daughter, who married and had one daughter. In 1940, when France was overrun by the Hun, Carlotta and her daughter moved to Philadelphia. The daughter married and had one daughter, who married and had one daughter who moved to Toronto where she teaches Spanish Literature, Modern Dance and Portuguese language (that is the daughter I met).

Emil Gelb

This is Emil Gelb, professor of semiotics at the University of Bologna as, to my great surprise, I saw him recently on the East-bound train between Greenwood and Coxwell.  We had met a few years ago during my stay in Bologna at the Caffé Terzi, not too far from Piazza Santo Stefano. I walked up to him and said "Ciao, didn't know you were in Toronto" he looked up trying to place me eventually he said in his perfect but heavily accented English "Hello friend who's name I deliberately choose not to remember as you seemed of little importance and/or use to me" I was taken aback and could not immediately find a correspondingly acerbic comeback ... not that any/many of Gelb's one-liners ever have had a successful come-back. I decided to play it cool (the alternative would have been to hit him in the head with my foot) so I went back and sat down to where I got up from just a few moments ago looking around to see if anybody observed the exchange (and my complete and utter pulverization). He went back to reading his newspaper and I got off at Victoria Park to take the 24 bus North.