270 Cassandra Boulevard

In August, Brooke and I will be moving. We’re not going far, just three streets west, but it brought up for me the impermanence of living arrangements. We’ve lived in our current apartment for six years, but that doesn’t seem that long to me anymore. When I was a child, we lived in the same apartment for more than two decades. From 1971 until 1992, I lived in apartment 310 at 270 Cassandra Boulevard, near the intersection of Victoria Park Avenue and York Mills Road in Toronto. That apartment building was the scene of all my life’s most important moments: my first kiss (1975, I think), my first beer (summer of 1978). My mother died at home there in 1987. So that place will always hold strong memories for me. I was six when we moved in (Dad, Mum and me), 13 or so when Dad moved away, 22 when Mum died, and 27 when I finally moved away. It was only a four-storey building, but it was unusual in that there were lots and lots of families with kids there, and I made more friends there than at school. Thanks to the recent success of Facebook, I’ve actually reconnected with a few of these long-lost friends. I’m going to list more of them in case they find their way here through Google. Maybe we can arrange a road-hockey game reunion!