suspicious of parties. And for good reason; they often involve mingling and we all know what that leads to — a dangerous exposure to people we were really never intended to meet. Torontonians have decided there is something about the dreaded lockdown that we quite like. It suits us. We hope it will never go away. It’s a challenge, after all, maintaining the ‘lifestyle’ necessary to support a million dollar condo. To do so, we must necessarily work — and very very hard. But we have always been hard workers — work is a virtue; only good can come of it. Many of us are descended from New England United Empire Loyalist stock — most all of us, at any rate, came here to escape disorder, decay, disarray, random associations, the irrational, the unmentionable, the frankly wrong. Toronto is a good city. That is why it was once labelled ‘Toronto the Good,’ It will get better every day. People mask everywhere — in cars, bicycles and and on street corners — such a joy to see! There is something about masks that is comforting and right. Not only is masking important, but remember Robert Frost’s New England dictum: ’good fences make good neighbours?’ No one said it better than that. A mask decrees: ‘We certainly are required to live in this world together -- but we do not necessarily desire it, nor do we wish necessarily, to be ‘intimate’ with each other. In fact, I am quite happy if we are not. Each of us must stay in our own little world. After all, exposure to that which is different — or even more alarmingly -- to what is radical and upsetting — is something we do not wish for, or want!' A mask says ‘stay away’ in a kind, and respectful way. Masks are courteous, polite, and part of a gentleman’s agreement that we not only will be apart, but we want to be. This suits Torontonians to a 'tee'. That there once were wild parties — orgies even (! apparently, I have only really heard of them) — and people mixed willy-nilly and God forbid swapped sweat, and infected droplets, and God knows what else — for no apparent reason really, except to propagate disease — well we don’t do that now. We are not only suspicious of parties; we are cautious about fun in general. Sports are a different beast; they celebrate excellence, require work, and encourage speech only among the 'team.' There is such a thing as decadence — it destroyed the Roman Empire. And there are temptations-- in bars and restaurants -- and even really in anything that is loosely described as ‘fun.'' Humans are weak. Behind our masks, in our homes, we are strong, nodding to fellow humans on our way to work, socializing only within our families. This is the way -- dare I say it -- God meant us to be? Perhaps we got sick because we went beyond home and family? And it is hardly a co-incidence that the family — more than any other social construct — happens to deliver capitalism with unparalleled efficiency. And what's so wrong about that? There is of course one problem, one fly in the ointment, one testy irritation, a feeling that gnaws at us, like a canker — but we know it is not in any way that serious. (A tiny doubt.) It must surely disappear. For now and then our eye happens to settle on one of the 'unfortunates,' one of the opioid addicted, the mentally ill — one of the lost, the irascibly poor, who is a kind of blazon of failure, a symbol of all that does not work, a reminder of what happens when life fails us and we fail it, too. The unfortunates seem everywhere right now. They crowd the streets; those who have fallen through the cracks. We feel pity for them of course. But we must not let the very sight of them erase our confidence in masks — for perhaps the unfortunates will follow our sterling example. At any rate vaccine passports will likely keep the away from us; we will be unlikely to bump into an unfortunate by accident. There will in fact be no more accidents — Toronto will become what it has always meant to be, relentlessly middle-class, a kind of haven for those people who wish to lead unblemished and carefree lives, unvarnished by the kind of brutal intrusive exhibitions that some carelessly call ‘reality.' A salient danger is FOMO — ‘fear of missing out’ — it does not strike many, but it does have a sting. We, however, the fortunate, the masked, are missing nothing -- only illness an death, which we are quite happy to avoid, and which the dreaded anti-vaxxers are now courting with their unGodly ways. Who says we hate pleasure? Nothing brings us more pleasure than working, and being considerate, thoughtful and kind. It's true that in the past fun might have meant meeting a young man half our age on St. Catherine Street in Montreal. A handsome young man who used to work as a coat-check boy at a strip club, one who you were immediately fond of, but you didn’t know why, perhaps only because he read books and liked to chat with you. You met him, by chance -- and then what happened? He appeared to be taking stock of your physical appearance -- because you were wearing, well, not very much, as it was still summer. And to top it all off, he also appeared to be flirting with you! Was it possible -- you wondered -- at your late age, to still be flirted with? Then he invited you to a masquerade party at a bar called Cabaret Expose. Cabaret Expose— the very epitome of decadence, of ‘fun’ — one can’t even venture to imagine what might go on there. At any rate, I think you get the picture. This is what some of your might think you are missing, only because it is representative of the kind of regrettable incident that did take place in the past. But think for a minute, really. Think about the rewards of being a present day Torontonian. You have meaningful work that sustains your condo. You know why you are here. Your relationships with others are firmly circled by barriers that clearly say 'do not cross any boundary I set without permission!' Most of all, the class system is firmly in place -- and getting stronger every day! To call this bliss is perhaps a hyperbole — and inappropriate — as bliss suggests mental impairment of a drugged sort; or even loss of control. Let’s call it contentment. Yes, let’s just leave it at that.
