[CAT] Shakespeare, at 7:53 am

[PHOTO] Demolition, 1120 Dupont Street, between Dufferin and Bartlett

1120 Dupont Street, once home to Harry's Motors and located just east of Dufferin, has been in the process of demolition by Teperman over the past few days. The official Toronto website notes that an application for a six-story self-service rental building has been submitted.

[BLOG] Some Saturday links

• blogTO notes that retail space on Bloor Street in Yorkville is not only the priciest in Canada, but among the priciest in the world.


• Centauri Dreams notes how fast radio bursts, a natural phenomenon, can be used to understand the universe.


• Dangerous Minds looks at a Kate Bush music performance on Dutch television in 1978.


• The Dragon's Gaze links to an analysis of the asteroids disintegrating in orbit of WD 1145+017.


• The Dragon's Tales notes evidence from meteorites that Mars has been dry and inhospitable for eons.


• The Everyday Sociology Blog looks at the way we construct time.


• Language Log highlights a 1943 phrasebook for English, Spanish, Tagalog, and Hokkien.


• Lawyers, Guns and Money notes the resistance of the Tohono O'odham, a border people of Arizona and Sonora, to a wall.


• The LRB Blog looks at a curious painting claiming to depict the cause of England's greatness.


• Marginal Revolution notes the sheer scale of mass tourism in Iceland.


• Strange Maps shares an interesting map depicting support for Clinton and Trump, showing one as a continental landmass and the other as an archipelago.


• Towleroad praises the musical Falsettos
for its LGBT content (among other things).

• Window on Eurasia looks at controversy over ethnonyms in Russian, and argues Putinism is a bigger threat to the West than Communism.

[LINK] "New immigration rules make it easier for Americans to work and stay in Canada"

Global News' Patrick Cain reports on changes in Canadian immigration rules which will make it easier for Americans to immigrate to Canada.

Changes to immigration rules quietly announced a few days after the U.S. election will make it easier for Americans to come to work in Canada, and easier for them to move toward citizenship once they’re here, immigration lawyers explain.

Would-be immigrants (who aren’t refugees or family members) have to qualify for a given number of points to get into a pool of potential immigrants. The points system, which grades potential immigrants, looks at a number of factors: work experience, age, education and official language fluency. The best-qualified applicants in the pool are invited to apply for permanent residence, which comes with the right to work in Canada and can lead to citizenship.

“The way we allocate points favours certain nationalities more than others,” explains Toronto-based immigration lawyer Guidy Mamann. “If you’re from the United States, you’re going to be a bit higher in the pool because you speak English. If you’re an American, you’re more likely to have a degree than if you’re from somewhere else.”

“Naturally, Americans will float a bit higher in the pool, but not by virtue of their passport, just because of their demographics.”

(The system also favours the young, explains Bruce Allen, who practices immigration law in Cleveland, Ohio as part of a cross-border law practice. “They say it’s points for age, but really it’s points for youth. Once you turn 31, you rapidly start losing points for age.”)

The changes include facilitated visa rights for people who work in particular professions listed under NAFTA, an increased number of invitations for permanent residency, and less weight being placed on having a job offer.

[LINK] "Meet Ontario's youngest ever MPP – and PC leader Patrick Brown's latest headache"

NOW Toronto's Michael Coren writes about how the election of Sam Oosterhoff, at 19 the youngest MPP ever elected, bodes ill for the coherence of the Progressive Conservatives.

Social conservatives in Ontario PC party ranks are rejoicing.

Long convinced that powerful special interests have conspired to silence them, they now have a miniature saviour in 19-year-old Sam Oosterhoff, the new PC MPP for Niagara West-Glanbrook in Ontario’s Bible belt.

The university student shocked the party establishment when he defeated PC party president Rick Dykstra, a good friend and chosen candidate of Ontario PC leader Patrick Brown, to win the nomination last month amid blowback over Brown's flip-flop on the province's ex-ed curriculum. Now he has won the seat vacated by former PC leader Tim Hudak in a one of two by-elections held Thursday, November 17. (The governing Liberals held onto Ottawa-Vanier.)

While Brown sang the young man’s praises shortly after his victory was announced last night – Brown described Oosterhoff's win as "impressive" – the truth is the last thing the PC leader wants is another social conservative in his caucus. Those closest to Brown confide they're deeply concerned the new boy will not remain on message and cause the party more embarrassment over sex-ed, abortion and gay rights as the leader tries to tack a more mainstream political course for the PCs. As one Liberal insider told me, “It’s only a matter of time before Sam Oosterhoff or one of his supporters says something extreme.”

To be sure, Oosterhoff's nomination win is part of a greater, deeper division in the Ontario PC party between the mainstream and the Christian right.

Oosterhoff is himself firmly entrenched in the latter. A member of the Spring Creek Canadian Reformed Church in Vineland, he embraces a strict Calvinist theology that is far to the right of most other Reformed Christians in Canada. That’s his absolute right, of course, but his refusal to work on Sundays could be an issue, as could his resolute stance against abortion for any reason and vehement opposition to the new sex ed curriculum, which has already brought him into direct conflict with his leader.

[URBAN NOTE] Toronto Life's Q&A with Marcus Mccann about the Marie Curtis Park arrests

Courtney Shea's Toronto Life Q&A highlights some of the issues with the recent arrests in Marie Curtis Park. At the very least, it looks like more information is needed from police about what, exactly, happened.

First, a little background. What can you tell us about how Marie Curtis Park became a popular location for sexual encounters?

It’s a large park in the southwest end of Toronto that straddles Toronto and Mississauga. There’s a playground, a bicycle trail and wooded areas. Because it’s so secluded, it has long been a park in which gay men meet. The recent gentrification of the neighbourhood has put pressure on that.

You’ve offered free legal services to 72 people who have been charged as a result of Operation Marie. Why is this important to you?

Over the weekend, lawyers began coming together on the Law Union of Ontario listserv. We know these kinds of charges can have very severe consequences. Not because of the legal repercussions—many of the charges are just bylaw infractions—but because of the shame and stigma attached. There is the risk of outing these people to their families, and there are potential employment consequences. The Toronto Police have now admitted that all of the charges relate to consensual sexual activity between adults. That’s important, because there has been misinformation on that.

How does one trespass at a public park?

In some parks there are curfews, so you’re not allowed to be there after a certain time. The very fact that there are so many trespassing charges suggests that these undercover sting operations were happening very late at night, which puts to lie the suggestion that this was being done to protect children.

[URBAN NOTE] "Making Sunnybrook Military Hospital a Reality"

Torontoist's David Wencer describes how Sunnybrook Military Hospital came to be.

In 1928, the City of Toronto received an enormous gift: Sunnybrook Farm. The farm was a reported 70 hectares of mostly undeveloped land located just north of the city limits, stretching from Bayview to Leslie across a picturesque section of the Don River. The donor was Alice Kilgour, and Sunnybrook Farm represented part of the estate on which she had lived with her husband, Joseph, until his death a few years earlier. Alice Kilgour’s gift was conditional on the City maintaining the property as a park and opening it to the public for recreation. “In order to give the citizens the fullest enjoyment of the park,” she wrote, “it should, I think, be definitely understood that none of the roads in it be used as public thoroughfares for public conveyances or commercial traffic.” “It will make one of the finest parks the city has,” predicted Board of Control member and future Toronto mayor Bert Wemp in the Globe. “The scenery up the Don Valley is wonderful, and it will be a grand place for the children.”

Over the next decade, Sunnybrook Park became a popular destination for Torontonians. It was located relatively close to the city limits, but far enough away from the bustle of downtown to serve as a relaxing getaway. Through the 1930s, it was the scene of sporting events, picnics, botanical study, and the activities of many local clubs and organizations. In 1931, the Toronto Field Naturalists financed guided tours of Sunnybrook Park, supplied three days a week by Mr. L. T. Owens, whom the Globe reported was “ready to conduct [the public] through the park and reveal the secrets of nature.”

Toronto’s relationship with the property took a dramatically different turn, however, following the outbreak of the Second World War.

At the start of the war, Toronto’s primary veterans’s hospital was the Christie Street Hospital, located on Christie between Dupont and Davenport, in what was then still an industrial neighbourhood. The hospital was housed in an old cash register factory which had been re-purposed in 1919 was the city’s primary hospital for the care of veterans not just of the First World War, but also of other conflicts, including the Boer War.

When large numbers of wounded veterans began returning to Toronto during the 1940s, it became apparent that the facilities at Christie Street were woefully inadequate. The hospital was uncomfortably close to a busy rail corridor. Passing trains reportedly caused the building to vibrate, and spewed smoke into the hospital hallways. One Globe and Mail article noted that freshly laundered hospital linen had, by the end of the day, accumulated a layer of dust and dirt. In her 2014 book The History of Sunnybrook Hospital: Battle to Greatness, Francesca Grosso cites one example of a Christie Street doctor complaining that the noise prevented him from being able to hear the heartbeats of his patients. While the building had been scarcely suitable for use as a hospital at the time of its opening, years of neglect had caused it to fall into a state of disrepair.

[LINK] "‘Grey’ or ‘gray’? Why not just call it ‘Canada Jay’?"

The Toronto Star's Azzura Lalani explains why the gray jay, Canada's new national bird, does not have the Canadian "grey" in its name.

Canadians haven’t wasted much time since the gray jay was named Canada’s national bird on Wednesday asking why its name is spelled the American way.

“We wholeheartedly agree that the Canadian/British spelling of “grey” would be preferable, but this is the species’ official name,” said Nick Walker, managing editor of Canadian Geographic magazine in an email to the Star. “As a journalistic publication, we must honour proper names of birds and other animals even when they conflict with Canadian spellings.”

What Walker would most like to see, he added, is for “gray jay” to be changed to “Canada jay,” which is what the bird was known as for about 200 years until the label was changed in 1957.

“Grey,” the British spelling of the colour, is the more common spelling in Canada, but it wasn’t always that way, said University of Toronto linguistics professor J.K. Chambers in an email.

“Until the 1700s, spelling was flexible. In Canada, we have a long history of accepting either British or American standards . . . . Because we are Canadian, we also accept ‘gray’ for ‘grey.’ ”

[URBAN NOTE] "Of no fixed address: the life and death of Paul Crombie"

The Toronto Star's Catherine Porter explores the story of the life of Paul Crombie, a homeless man recently killed near the St. Lawrence Market, and of what took how he got there.

The first news reports of his death referred to a brawl near St. Lawrence Market.

Jackey heard about it while having her first coffee, watching CP24 in her pyjamas. The same thought flashed through her mind as every time she heard about a homeless person’s death.

“Please God, don’t let it be my brother. I hope he’s OK.”

Later that day, at her office in Aurora, her eldest brother arrived with the news she’d been dreading for a decade.

“Paul’s dead,” he said. Then something she didn’t expect: “He was killed.”

By that afternoon, more than 20 members of their family were gathered, crying andwatching the news about the July 18 killing. The reports were more detailed. There had not been a brawl, but a fight between two drunk men. The 50-year-old victim was named: Paul Crombie.

Each report felt like a backhand across the face to Jackey, who along with her siblings asked to be identified by their first names only. The line that stung most, repeated with each broadcast, was that Paul was “of no fixed address.”

[LINK] "Leonard Cohen, Judaism's Bard"

The Atlantic's Jonathan Freedland outlines the strong Jewish interests in the music of Leonard Cohen.

Robert Zimmerman became Bob Dylan, Allen Konigsberg became Woody Allen, but Leonard Cohen stayed Leonard Cohen. Coming of age at a time when showbusiness demanded Jews not make their background too obvious, Cohen was happy to be named less like a folk icon than a senior partner in an accountancy firm. It seems an obvious point, but it nods to a larger one that was either overlooked or underplayed in the extensive obituaries that followed Cohen's death last week. Put simply, Cohen was an intensely Jewish artist—along with Philip Roth, perhaps the most deeply Jewish artist of the last century.

Of course, there’s been no shortage of writers or performers with a Jewish sensibility. Allen's earliest films were steeped in Brooklyn shrugs and Manhattan angst, with plenty of Jewish neurotic shtick. Dylan's “Neighbourhood Bully,” telling of a besieged, encircled state of Israel, might be the most AIPAC-friendly song in the rock canon. But the Jewishness of Cohen's work is on an entirely different level.

Sure, he could adopt the requisite shrug of self-deprecation. “I'm the little Jew who wrote the bible,” he sang in “The Future.” And he was finely attuned to the epic forces of 20th-century Jewish history. “Dance Me to the End of Love” was prompted by the knowledge that a string quartet played at the Nazi death camps: “Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin,” Cohen sings. In 1973, he volunteered to fight for Israel during the Yom Kippur war, saying, “I am committed to the survival of the Jewish people.” Told he was more use wielding his voice than a gun, he entertained IDF troops in back-to-back performances. During a 2009 concert in Ramat Gan, he blessed his audiences with the ancient benediction of the Cohanim—the priesthood from which his name is derived.

But none of this is what sets Leonard Cohen apart as a singularly Jewish artist. Rather it's his deep and serious engagement with not only Jewish culture and history, but with Judaism itself.

His new and last album, You Want It Darker, for example, begins with the choir of the Shaar Hashomayim synagogue he grew up in. The chazan, or cantor, of that synagogue sings on the title track, incanting the single word Hineni, a word of tremendous significance for religious Jews. Here I am. It is the answer Abraham, the first Jew, gave when God called out to him, asking him to sacrifice his son Isaac. (The same episode is recalled by Dylan on Highway 61 Revisited.) It’s the reply Moses gives when God speaks to him through the burning bush. It stands as a declaration of submission to divine authority (submission being a frequent Cohen motif). In the song, Cohen follows Hineni with the unambiguous statement, “I'm ready, my Lord”, as if offering himself up for death.

[WRITING] "Queer Writers in the Age of Trump"

The Atlantic hosts Gabrielle Bellot's article talking about the ways in which queer writers--in the United States, in her telling, but I'd argue worldwide--will have to mobilize to the forces gathered together by Trump.

In 1948, when the American writer Patricia Highsmith started writing The Price of Salt, her seminal novel of lesbian love, she knew it would be difficult to find a publisher as an openly queer author. At the time, as she reflected in her 1989 afterword to the novel, it was already difficult enough just to be out as a lesbian in New York. “Those were the days,” she wrote, “when gay bars were a dark door somewhere in Manhattan, where people wanting to go to a certain bar got off the subway a station before or after the convenient one, lest they be suspected of being a homosexual.” It would be career suicide, she feared, to be known as a “lesbian book-writer.” So when the publisher of her first novel, Strangers on a Train, rejected The Price of Salt, she released the latter elsewhere under a pseudonym, Claire Morgan. It went on to become one of the most important works of queer American fiction.

The United States in 2016 is generally more accepting of queer writers than the country Highsmith described. But some of the rhetoric of President-elect Donald Trump and a number of his supporters paints LGBT people in much the same way that they were seen in Highsmith’s day: as people who don’t deserve the same rights as other Americans. In January 2016, Trump told the Fox News host Chris Wallace that he would “strongly consider” appointing conservative justices who could repeal the ruling of Obergefell v. Hodges, the Supreme Court decision that made same-sex marriage legal last year. In June 2015, Vice President-elect Mike Pence, who has a long history of opposition to LGBT rights, had responded more strongly to the decision, reaffirming his belief that marriage is between a man and a woman.

As a queer American and as a writer, the prospect of a Trump presidency troubles me. Yet Trump’s tenure, ironically, could be a spur to LGBT literature, propelling the development of an even more self-assured literature of American queerness than before.

I came to America from the Commonwealth of Dominica. For me, like many other queer writers in the U.S., particularly those who’ve come from less safe places, America represented a kind of hope. Here was a country I’d decided to stay, as a dual citizen, after coming out. My former home in the Caribbean wasn’t a safe place to be openly queer in, and unlike the U.S., it lacked laws protecting LGBT persons from discrimination or violence. When I immigrated, I felt like a sea-traveler who had escaped from a storm, waves high as Hokusai’s, and who was now in a calmer place, free to fill my eyes with stars.

Of course, the United States was far from perfect. The killing of trans women is in the news so often that I’ve come to expect it. Bigotry against LGBT people is written into innumerable “religious freedom acts” akin to the one Pence signed. But, for all that, America was still a sanctuary, a world that could accept—and even defend—someone like me. Queer people were never fully safe, but here we could be happy and hopeful.

The day Trump was elected, I began to think of Shirley Jackson’s famous New Yorker story, “The Lottery.” In Jackson’s tale, published in 1948—the same year Highsmith began The Price of Salt—a New England town holds an annual lottery, in which each member of the town must pick a piece of paper from a closed box. One unlucky person who gets the single paper with a black dot on it will be stoned to death by the townspeople. Jackson’s story is cool and compressed, revealing the mundane savagery in an ordinary American town that exists when people cling too closely and literally to violent traditions. I had voted, not taken part in a lottery, yet felt like I had pulled out a card with a smudged black dot: an indication that something terrifying, was coming.