The parking lots are unusually empty. It's a Saturday afternoon - a time when you would think many people would be out and about doing their weekend errands. But they are not. Even the roads seem unusually quiet. Un-busy. At the grocery store, a pleasant surprise to find it not too crowded. Again, a Saturday afternoon - a time when you would think many people would be out getting their weekly groceries. But no. Something has changed. There is something tangible in the air. A palpable sense of quietness. Of holding back. Of austerity. People are hunkering down and making do with what they have. They are cocooning themselves, withdrawing into the safety of their cozy homes and condos, waiting out the storm. The storm of inflation. Of high prices. Of empty store shelves. There are whispers that we are on the verge of a recession. Shhhhhhh! Don't even utter that word. For we may then manifest it, and it may become so. I am not even sur
When I was studying Journalism at Humber College, one of our assignments was to interview a long-time married couple to find out what made them stay together. Our neighbours at the time, were the perfect subjects. They were married shortly after World War II, and had come over to Canada from Germany. They were the best neighbours one could have; always up for a chat over the fence; always offering some homemade German delicacies; always cheerful and happy. When I sat down with them and asked them what made them stay together after so many years, the lady said, "We take each other for granted." I was in shock. Taken aback. I thought the secret to a great relationship was the opposite: NOT taking each other for granted. And then she explained You have to take it for granted that the other person will always be there. Always have your back. Always offer company, comfort, solace, friendship, love. Perhaps there is some truth to that. But I still thin