Foreword Let’s talk about space for a minute. Not the final frontier kind, but here on earth. It can mean something different to everyone. It can mean square footage, it can mean time to reflect, and it can very much be in reference to how we establish boundaries. This could be in the way of a fence, or it could be in the way of turning off your phone. Either way, it would seem that space can also be considered a point of luxury. Here in this massive country of Canada, the amount of space many people have in their homes alone is mind-blowing to outsiders. In many other places in the world, every inch (or centimetre) has to be calculated so very carefully because the density of these cities makes it impossible to stretch out as we do. (Think of how a company like IKEA has capitalized on this spatial organization.) But here in London, for example, with detached homes, backyards, front porches and driveways being assumed as the norm, we tend to take for granted these options that give us a sense of not only what is our space but how it defines us. What if you didn’t have the luxury of space? What would you do with yourself and your time? If you didn’t have a space to entertain people, would you be inclined to go out more? And if the whole neighbourhood was in the same boat, would we see more people out and about? If you didn’t have a backyard, where would your kids or pets go to be outside? Would you take advantage of the city parks more? And if ultimately you didn’t have a space at all, where would you go and who would be there to as-they-say ‘hold space’ for you? Whatever the case, true luxury is not only to feel at home in your space but also to feel safe. This experience can really vary
from one person to the next regardless of what they establish as their space. In the end, we are all working to get by and make the best of what we have at any given moment. I guess it’s important to celebrate what you do have and hope that others are as lucky and are able to feel the same. Back in the Day
This 1953 photo was taken at John Geddes’ birthday/Halloween party at the family home in London. He was born in the house, which his parents bought in the forties, and they lived there until they moved to a house on Victoria Street. The neighbourhood friends in the photo wear quite simple home-made costumes, and the furniture pictured stayed in the family for years, often repurposed. At age six, John walked alone every day to Boyle Memorial School on Charlotte Street. It was about a kilometer each way over the CPR tracks on Quebec Street, and home again, both for lunch and at day’s end. Photo and information from the Kingston Frontenac Public Library via www.archive.org.
Page 2 Old East Villager November/December 2024
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