My letter to the Editor, and meeting Mitchell Cohen

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My letter to the Editor, and meeting Mitchell Cohen

It’s extremely still and quiet in the city, and I was wondering why when I realized: it’s Friday of the May long weekend. Everyone is in a traffic jam getting to the cottage. And we the cottage-less have the city to ourselves.

Yesterday I spent part of the morning writing a letter to the Editor of the Star about our premier’s plan to pay many thousands of dollars to rip out bike lanes. So unbelievably stupid. I’ve written several letters to the Editor that have not been published, but when I feel strongly, it’s worth a try. Today, amazingly, the letter was in! Another aging cyclist wrote to thank me.

Toronto Star, Friday May 16, 2025

Bike lanes are expanding around the world

As a 74-year-old city cyclist, I’m letting our provincial government know that if the bike lanes that keep me alive are ripped up, I will either impede traffic by riding at my usual stately pace on the streets, or I will ride on the sidewalk. And so will most other cyclists.

I propose that we Ontarians take up a collection to send our premier and his team to visit a few forward-looking cities, like Montreal, which has a massive and expanding biking network, London and New York as well, or to some cities in France, which I visited this spring.

In Paris, the ever-growing number of bike lanes separated with concrete dividers, and Parisians and tourists riding safely on them, is mind-boggling, especially for a Torontonian. Public transit in Paris is superb, with dedicated bus lanes that allow the mostly electric busses to speed through traffic jams, digital signs at almost all stops telling when the next bus will arrive, and a metro that efficiently covers the whole city. Air pollution has been cut in half. In Montpellier in the south, streetcars are free for all residents, parking is severely restricted in the city centre, and the mayor is installing hundreds more trees to bring down the heat.

Our premier is focused on making life easier and cheaper for suburban commuters, but most big cities are moving in the opposite direction, discouraging cars and making mass transit efficient, cheap, and accessible, and biking infrastructure far-ranging and safe.

Please, Premier Doug Ford, rather than ripping out life-saving bike lanes and spending countless billions on an absurd tunnel, expand your frame of reference, learn from what sensible politicians in other great cities are doing, and focus for once on inner-city safety and the future of the planet.

Beth Kaplan, Toronto

Did something else huge the other day, for me — I submitted an essay to NYT’s Modern Love column. It’s a Mount Everest for essay writers, like submitting to The New Yorker; many well-known writers have been turned down. But that’s what writers do, we open ourselves up over and over for brutal rejection. Hooray!

It’s notable because I’ve not been writing anything new, or even submitting anything old, for many months. Mostly because I was trying to advance Midlife Solo, writing for the blog, podcast, Substack, newsletter, and on Facebook and Instagram. A lot of writing, none of it submitted for publication. And also because I was just in a slump. Now I’m coming through.

Right now, I have to spend money like water. All the appliances in my house date from 2006, because they were all replaced (by insurance) after the fire here in 2005. So this week, I am having to replace my 20-year-old furnace, air conditioner, hot water tank, and back door screens. At the moment, the new furnace is in a box in my downstairs’ tenant’s bedroom, the new tank is in my dining room, and there are two AC’s in front of the house, the old and the new. Decisions have had to be made, and nothing, for me, is more stressful than that. (Also the copyright bounty hunters are still hounding me to pay thousands for a few pictures posted here decades ago. Unbelievable.) Soon, I hope not to have to think about furnaces etc. for another 20 years, when I’ll be 94 and probably in a nursing home.

LOL. Unimaginable. But possible. Dear friends are getting old, losing memory and mobility, having to move from the comfort of their beloved homes to one room. Phooey.

Had an interesting hour-long Zoom convo with a Stanford academic working in Yiddish and Russian; she enjoyed Finding the Jewish Shakespeare and wanted to find out more about Jacob Gordin and his family in order to write about them. Always happy to talk about my books! Any time. Thank you.

Monday’s thrill was a trip to Costco with Doug. Their garden centre is fabulous, and now I have a lifetime’s supply of Kleenex, toilet paper, and organic French peach-apricot-mango jam. The greatest excitement: a new retractable hose. My current hose, also at least twenty years old, was 100 feet long and required strenuous effort and grubby hands to heave it back onto its stand. This one: you press a button and it rolls itself up. Be still my beating heart.

Tuesday’s thrill was the monthly Cabbagetown lunch lecture, this time from Mitchell Cohen, a long-time advocate of affordable housing and the force behind the gorgeous, community-focussed revitalization of Regent Park. He told great stories of his long career, and what leapt out at me was the irrevocable damage done to this city and province by the loathsome Mike Harris and the buffoonish Ford brothers. Several times, major affordable housing initiatives already underway were destroyed by these cons. Disgusting. A big disappointment for Cohen was that his company, after effecting such brilliant work for much of Regent Park, was not selected to finish the project; another company was, a decision that made absolutely no sense and that I protested with letters at the time. “Did money grease palms to make that happen?” I asked him, but he could or would not answer. The answer is: it’s likely, no?

Cohen is still working on several projects, though also disappointed in Mark Carney’s choice for housing minister, as was I. Nate Erskine-Smith, a local man whose sister went to school with Anna and whose mother is a friend, is keen and smart and had done a lot of work already in the portfolio, but was cut out in favour of Vancouver’s Gregor Robertson, who has a controversial past in housing. I suppose it was for geographic diversity etc., but housing is a vital issue, and Nate was ready to go. A poor choice, Mark. I hope it’s not an indicator of things to come.

I’d thought about using excerpts of my old diaries for the Substack so got one out and realized why it’s a bad idea — because they’re so interesting, to me at least, I could sit and read forever. The random one I got out was from 1972 when I was at LAMDA, a big theatre school in London, confused and tortured by worry about my weight and my future. Luckily, I met Tony Bingham, a wonderfully interesting dealer in antique musical instruments, who became my boyfriend for the rest of the year and was a great support. I found lovely mentions of him in the diary, transcribed them, and sent them to him. I had dinner with Tony and his partner Blossom last year in Hampstead; despite serious health problems, he’s as fascinating and passionate about his work as ever. And Blossom is a treat.

This is a long post, sorry. Today was the summeroo switch – putting away sweaters, getting out shorts, bringing the plants that have wintered inside onto the deck. It’s 29 degrees. Spring was yesterday. Happy summer!

Below, my neighbour’s explosion of colour. And seen at the library … O brave new world.