There are two things frankly I hadn’t anticipated. One, that this day would ever come.  It’s the last day of October, the end of our tenancy at 100 Jamieson Street. And two, that I would feel so moved by the event. Precipitously I have been jerked from anxiousness to bewilderment. With unexpected fervour I am recalling those we have known at 100 Jamieson Street and the inexpressible memories arising.

Our connection with 100 Jamieson Street is ancient. Appropriately it first arose through John and Warren for whom I had worked when they initially moved from the city to the Township of Pakenham where they built a home.  That obviously was before they moved to 100 Jamieson Street which at its inception was coloured with an exotic legal shroud having to do with life interests. From the moment we began our tenancy John and Warren have proven themselves the ideal neighbours. They enlarged upon that banner by also undertaking corporate, gardening and social duties throughout the entirety of the building. Every day no matter how early we began our cycling routine we would see John and Warren attending to some collective enterprise or undertaking. In case of property management concern they were always the first resource.

Our indirect relationship with 100 Jamieson Street was through our landlord John H. Kerry with whom I had a long-standing professional relationship. This led to our acquaintance with another of John’s tenants Freda who, although she lived immediately adjacent, we more often than not saw only at the elevator. Nonetheless the infrequent encounters were always notable for their affability.

Along the hallway of the third floor were Rona, Victoria, Arlene, Jim and Gerry, Harvey and Janet. Once again the infrequent but regular encounters with each of them were characterized by predictable congeniality.

Although John and Janice inhabited the first floor, I routinely crossed paths with them when entering or leaving the parking garage.  For some inexplicable reason we magically met when each fulfilling our daily routines which in Janice’s case was often swimming; and which in my case was the less strenuous task of having the car washed.

Many of the residents of 100 Jamieson Street practiced daily exercise by walking throughout the neighbourhood.  Harvey and Janet signalled the early morning tour; while Victoria and Anke were more notable for their afternoon outings, always lavished with cheerfulness.

Marvin and Joy led us deeper into the country to the farm of their son along the Rae Road where on occasion we visited for breakfast or to purchase agricultural produce.

The reality of our removal from one side of town to the other is that the tenuous links we’ve had with people at 100 Jamieson Street are likely doomed to fade and to become dust. It is for this reason that at the very least I wish to profit by the immediacy we now enjoy to recall what has been a very desirable residency at 100 Jamieson Street.