The article graces page 5 of the Harbord Village Newsletter, spring edition. (There is no summer or winter issue.) The Times, it's not. My assignment was to cover a proposed pilot project to install a separated bike lane on a stretch of road near us, Bloor Street. It's a contentious plan I've been hearing about since we first moved to Toronto six (SIX!) years ago. In fact if I cycle past the front window of our former rental house, now empty and destined for demolition, I can still see my 'Bike Lanes on Bloor' campaign sticker.
I'm not quite an ace newshound (yet), but nor am I a total novice. Far from it. In elementary school I wrote an article for the Platt Ranch Reporter (or something like that) about child TV actors. The most exciting parts of that for me were 1) getting to interview Erin and Diane Murphy, the twins who played 'Tabitha' on my favourite show, Bewitched, and 2) being permitted to operate the mimeograph machine to print the paper. I still remember the sweetly poisonous smell of the ink. A few years later, in junior high, I took a journalism class. I don't recall writing any articles, but I learned about 'ems' and 'ens' and how to write headlines. It was complicated, using up the right amount of space without running over. A little like Twitter.
Neither of those journalistic excursions allowed me to claim any special privileges (though Mrs. Murphy did serve us lemonade and cookies during the interview). My civilian identity remained intact. The article about bike lanes, however, led me to attend a press conference held by two city councillors. It was perhaps less that I 'attended' and more that I gatecrashed the gathering with my dog in tow on the way home from delivering my daughter to school. I listened to Councillors Joe Cressy and Mike Layton, I took notes, I hauled the dog's leash out from between other reporters' legs. When question time was announced, I raised my hand. That's not how reporters do it, it turns out. They just shout. So I waited for a lull and said, "I have a question about bicycle parking."
"I'm afraid we're only taking questions from members of the press," said the councillor representing my ward, Mr. Cressy. I guess the dog and the bike and the fact that I hadn't yet brushed my hair gave him the wrong impression of me.
"I am a member of the press," I told him, attempting dignity while my cockapoo humped my leg. "I am writing for the Harbord Village Newsletter."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Joe Cressy back-pedalled, with a small laugh, his own stab at grace. "Go ahead."
"Sit," I said. The dog did; the councillor stood his ground as I asked my question, to which the answer was "no." I said thank you, collected up the dog and my bike, and rode to the park.
The good news is that city council has passed the motion to pilot the bike lane project at long last. I credit the two city councillors for its success, and I like to think the dog helped motivate them just a bit. He is awfully cute.
In case anyone has finished reading the back of their cereal packet and is interested in The BLoB Approaches, or more interesting news from the wilds of Harbord Village:
http://harbordvillage.com/files/HVRA_NL_Spring2016_.pdf
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