You're probably all wondering why someone would willingly
make a trip to Toronto. I've decided to tell you, confession
is good for the soul, or so I'm told. The fact is, I'm a
groupie. To be more specific, I'm a Margarietta groupie.
There's a large number of us in Toronto, and even more in
other parts of the world of course. Generally speaking Margarietta
groupies are urban sophisticates, and I'm the only one that's
a Quebec farmer, to the best of my knowledge.
Those of you who have visited my humble log cabin where
I live in abject squalor and crushing poverty, can imagine
what agonizing I went through when I learned that Margarietta
would be leaving Jamaica for a two week business and social
trip in Toronto. How would I get to Toronto to meet her
and my fellow groupies, and more importantly, what ever
would I wear. Although I worked in a government office for
a number of years it was rather informal, and living in
the wilderness has got me out of the habit of dressing up.
It was a harrowing experience going through my fading collection
of dress shirts, sports coats and ties. The ties were the
worst problem, but I finally located a couple without soup
stains on them. The thought of installing one of these things
around my neck again almost made me give up the whole project.
Why do civilized men put nine layers of cloth around their
necks. That's right, nine layers, four in the collar and
five in the tie if you count the lining. The mind recoils.
Anyhow, I did a few test runs on an old tie and shirt to
make sure I could still master the knot, then packed a small
bag of these infernal devices and set off on the train to
Toronto.
I thought that to get a feel for the world of the present
that I would check in at a fancy modern hotel and reconnoitre.
I chose the Novotel on The Esplanade. The next morning I
spent a couple of hours in the breakfast area observing
the natives, how they deported themselves and what they
wore. There was a thirtyish couple in old jeans, T-shirts
and light jackets who looked scruffy but well off. I guessed
they were software engineers. There were only three suits
in the whole crowd and they moved like they were in a private
world; mining executives most likely. The biggest surprise
was a variety of skinny young women in slacks with legs
so narrow it was hard to imagine getting their feet through.
They all wore what looked like huge work boots with thick
soles and high round polished toes. Maybe the boots had
steel safety caps, I couldn't tell. Suddenly I felt much
better, I could have worn my rubber-bottom-leather-top work
boots with the felt liners, and made a big fashion statement.
What an oversight, I could have been the object of frank
admiration from the younger set. I can imagine the young
women shyly twittering to each other, and sending a spokesperson
to talk to me. "Can you get those felt liners in different
colours?" she might have said. "They come in white,
navy blue and day-glo orange," I would have told her.
"You can find them at any farmer's co-op."
After the breakfast experience I prepared for the lunch
meeting with considerably more confidence. I put on a clean
shirt and tie, installed a new rubber tip on my best cane,
and set out to walk the two blocks or so to the Fisherman's
Wharf or the Flexing Mussel or whatever the rendezvous restaurant
was called. I met my two groupie colleagues there, Jeff
and David, and we waited nervously for Margarietta to arrive.
As a scientist the idea of reincarnation has a considerable
appeal for me, there's a conservation aspect to it. If there's
conservation of energy and momentum, why not of souls as
well. Margarietta embodies reincarnation, when you know
her you know she's been here before. I opened the Bible
one day at 1st Kings 10:2, and had a thrill of recognition
as I read, "And the Queen of Sheba came with a very
great train of camels that bare spices, gold and precious
stones, and she communed with King Solomon of all that was
in her heart."
Margarietta arrived, poised and regal as always. We exchanged
warm greetings and sat for a momentous and lengthy lunch.
I expect that at this point you will want to know what everyone
wore. We men all had ties and well pressed trousers, but
that's not what you want to hear, you want to know what
Margarietta was wearing don't you? She was resplendent in
black and gold, a shining figure of taste and elegance.
As accessories, she wore some of the best gold and precious
stones that she had brought along from the past life. I
wonder how she did that?
It was a wonderful event, an event of a lifetime, and David,
Jeff and I felt like courtiers at some great royal event
as we communed with her of all that was in our hearts. Move
over, Solomon.
Bluebox ©2001 Don Cox
Website ©2001 OttawaWEB
