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96 St. |
A bicycle ride to the north end is, unavoidably, intriguingly, deliciously, sadly, sweetly, a journey into the past.
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Easter Sunday |
The Byzantine rite domes of St. Josaphat Cathedral rise above the roofs of McCauley.
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Trees |
In the distance, through the arch of bare trees, Commonwealth Stadium sits waiting.
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Odd jobs done |
Simple and straightforward. No wasted punctuation. Eavestrough might be candidate.
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Window into the past |
Tran's Foodland, fading.
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115 Ave |
White door, black-and-white address sign, rust mailbox, black plastic garbage bag in the sun.
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Northlands Colisuem |
The Coliseum is ground zero of the Oilers mythology.
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Canada Packers smokestack |
The exclamation mark is all that's left of Edmonton's meatpacking district.
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Still life on 66 St |
A lagoon of winter melt mirrors the brick tower.
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Underpass |
Like, later, words from foreign languages, train cars from beyond told boys riding bikes that there was a beyond.
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Detail |
We saw, we heard, we watched trains. I learned later that some words carried anhydrous ammonia.
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St. Francis of Assisi |
A friend to the birds, wheeling and cawing above.
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School field |
An incinerator used to stand right here. We played football and soccer out there.
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Road to ruin |
One route home from school in those old days was through Windsor Park. Those were the first speed bumps I had ever seen.
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The old Mac's store |
Behind the old Mac's store we learned Yoyo tricks. Rock the baby in the cradle was the most complex maneuver I could pull off. In the townhouses nearby Tracy hosted a party for boys and girls, and her mother was there.
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The old alley |
In my time, I knew every inch and crack and contour and puddle of this piece of alley. I knew every tuft of grass, oil stain, knot in fence. If there is a patch of land I am from, this is it.
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Driveway |
Backing out of that far garage door one day, I turned the wheel too soon and hooked the bumper of the 1965 Ford Custom inside the structure, bringing a big chunk of the garage down on the car as I wheeled out. I was on my way to see Shelagh for dinner with her parents.
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Londonderry field |
Who knew in those days that Londonderry was a contested word? A hot air balloon once landed in this field. We pedalled our bikes over and watched it wither onto the ground. In a recurring dream, I see a plane crash in this field.
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Getting ready for spring |
A northender communicated with a length of hose in his driveway.
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Interior |
Part kitchen, part workshop, part museum, my dad's garage is the portal into the house and Easter dinner with the family.
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