Who Are the People in My Neighborhood?
. . . and do they take cream, oat, soy or almond milk?
This photo was taken on January 9, 2021. Folks in winter clothing — love the headwear! — masked, six feet apart, unless in your pod. Remember those rules? Mandatory, optional, relaxed, reinstated, rebelled against, complied with, situational. Anyone?
Me neither.
In October, 2020, Brian (far right, in the photo but not politically) and his partner Rebekah sent an email to twenty households on our street. “We will be serving coffee in our front yard on Saturday mornings from 9:00 to 10:30, starting tomorrow. Bring your own cup. No need to RSVP.” They didn’t know if anyone would show up.
People showed up. They continue to show up. They bring friends, family members, pets, house guests, and visiting scholars. Actually, we’re all visiting scholars. We read a lot of books.We talk a lot about books. Everyone has an area of expertise, and is eager to share. It may not be Bloomsbury or the Algonquin round table, but it’s an invigorating way to spend a Saturday morning.
Now that I’ve introduced you to my neighbors, I want to share something else. I posted this on Substack Notes on Friday. I could say the note went viral, but it’s all relative and I’m new here. Nor do I want to jinx things or summon a new Covid variant.
Met a friend at a coffee shop to do some writing. I ordered an Americano with room for cream. Look what I got! A Room of One’s Own. Another reminder (do I need one?) to read and re-read all of Virginia Woolf’s work this year.
I’m starting now.
Maybe I do live in Bloomsbury.
Something I’m excited to share:
Great idea from
of : Make a practice of taking one photo a day, every day. After 365 days, you’ll have documented your year.I’m late to the party, and my brain is too scrambled right now to know if I’ve gotten this correctly, but I’m doing it.
Deep gratitude to my two newest paid subscribers:
writes on Substack, about her experience as a suburban wife and mother with bipolar disorder. Author of the bold memoir, The Second, she’s witty, wonderful, and compassionate. Honest and forthcoming, she’s the real CBD. Accept no imitations. is a disability advocate who writes with great authority from decades of professional and personal experience at Her brilliantly written stories will give you a bigger jolt than five shots of espresso. With her compassion, wisdom, and humor, you won’t need room for more. It’s all there.Thanks, again, to my first two subscribers,
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During January* I’m offering annual subscriptions for 30% off until the end of time. There’s a monthly option as well. You can unsubscribe at any time.
*An arbitrary time limit. I grew up with urgency-driven advertising.
I enjoyed this glimpse of your life in the physical world. Where do you live, Mary? Oh, and congratulations on your warmly recognized paid subscribers. I haven't yet passed the hat.
I love this whole room to yourself idea, as we talked about in the notes before. :) I'm typing this in my physical Room with a Door and working on my substack publication Room with a Door and I love it so much. I also love your name for this publication, as well, Writer, interrupted. Ha! This could be me, too.
Ontario, Canada had absolutely ridiculous, lengthy lockdowns during the pandemic and we were continuously reprimanded for trying to keep living a relatively normal life among all the rigorous restrictions. It was particularly difficult for my teenagers, and many of the province's children today are on some type of anti-anxiety medication and enrolled in therapy. I kept thinking then, and I keep thinking now, there has to be a better way to deal with these situations.
As far as the neighbourhood is concerned, we're all huddled indoors now with dark, gloomy, wet, cold, miserable winter days here in the Greater Toronto Area. I'm more of a hermit anyway, I don't mind, but by March, we're all going to get reacquainted with the 'hood, in person, I think. I hope.