Summer in the city/summer closure

I waited with three young men at the bus stop; I 'd say age sixteen. "Vous allez bien, madame?" one asked rhetorically, with an arch courtliness.

He offered me a hit from his vape. "Je fumais jamais", I told him. All three sets of eyes flickered the verdict: Madame was clearly a prude. "...sauf les joints", I added, and was rewarded with relaxed laughter: "Les joints, ben oui!"

In truth I was a only an occasional pot smoker, but it was a bridge to more conversation and I don't get to chat with many teens.

They told me they had just been released from the minimum security institution that is high school in June. I remembered the day the lockers were cleaned out,  tasks assigned when there was no more homework to review. Even those reporting to summer jobs the next day felt fizzy with excitement.

I didn't so much envy their youth—the time and possibility ahead—as the experience of that particular release.

Today I leave online life for a few months, as I have for the last decade. I step off the blog platform, read newspapers, use a flip phone with no internet connection. The few exceptions: Netflix and personal e-mail.

Awaiting is stack of books, a series of beloved friends' visits, a vibrant city to experience outside the digital world. I won't line up for the latest multimedia installation. I'll rise early to drink coffee on a terrasse, stay up late with a margarita.

Summer is not a fashion season, if you're no longer office-bound: soft old jeans for walking a dog, a floaty skirt for torrid days, a gauzy tunic you can dress up. Your hair will go limp or frizzy depending, and it won't matter. Iris Apfel said , "With a good haircut and shoes you can get away with anything", and for the next several months, even the shoes can go!

In Montréal summers, most everyone bends toward goodwill. "Eté enfin!" reads a chalkboard in front of the neighbourhood pub; plump toddlers scamper on the splash pad next door while tired parents watch from a blanket. After dark, ripples of revelry from our street's many cafés float up to our balcony and I think of a song from over fifty years ago, "Night in the City", by Joni Mitchell:

"Night time, night time
Day left an hour ago
City light time
Must you get ready so slow?
There are places to come from
And places to go..."

Joni wrote that in 1965 about another atmospheric neighbourhood, Yorkville Avenue, in Toronto, and sings it here, in 1967:



The shutters roll down

The Passage re-opens September 4. 2019.

Thanks to those who took the time the to comment, when moved. As one reader said, "I comment to give something back." Your participation keeps non-monetized blogging alive.

And thanks, too, to those who shared jewellery projects: Adele, Alice, Laura J, LauraH, and to Luba and Marie for their questions about restyling and replacement. You have inspired others, and the renos are such fun to see. Someone else, engaged in multiple renos, promises a peek when we're back.

Have a blissful summer.