Ed is dead.

Ed Mirvish was a hero to Toronto, a mover and shaker and builder of the city, but also a man who loved its people, especially the newest citizens, its immigrants who helped make it great. His life's story and achievements have already been extensively catalogued elsewhere, but I'd like to talk a little about his best-known achievement, Honest Ed's Bargainhouse.

At Honest Ed's, you could get just about anything. Clothing, light bulbs, candy, tablecloths, electric fans, you name it, he had it. You knew when you walked in the door that you were about to have a no-frills shopping experience. You knew going in that there was a no ifs ands or buts No Refund policy, which was no doubt part of what kept the prices so low. Most things could be purchased for garage sale prices. Unlike Sam's, which recently shut its doors for good, I can recall the first time I set foot inside Ed's. I was 11 or 12, and going to school across Bathurst Street - it is now a girl's high school. Trust me when I say that it wasn't back then - and after school went in through the side entrance on Bathurst, which was later moved to the Bloor Street side. You walked up a long slanted walkway, and either side was the record section - he had as many vinyl albums as, well not Sam's, but definitely more than they had at Eaton's. I think that the first record I bought there for myself was Dire Straits' Brothers in Arms, which no doubt is still kicking around at my folks' place.

My first apartment was 2 blocks south of Ed's, and anything that wasn't parental surplus came from places like Ed's - the neighborhood also featured then a Bi-Way, which was more like a giant dollar store, although you could get remaindered Levi's there for $20. But Ed's was responsible for blankets, T-shirts, glasses, can openers, Christmas lights (at $2 a string, even if they didn't work you didn't really mind) and a still have at least one tie I got there - it too was probably less than $3. With its kitchy hand -lettered signs that advertised everything as a potential "Ed's Gift Idea" - one Christmas someone had set up a window display with a pyramid made of boxes of tampons with such a sign, leading me to imagine some twisted version of Gift Of the Magi, well, anyway... Ed's was an institution, and still is today.

His death last week at the young age of 92 notwitstanding, I believe that, unlike Sam's, the store will go on, as will the rest of the Mirvish empire, including the theatres - I suppose we have them to blame for the Lord of the Rings musical last year. But I have no doubt that this Christmas, David Mirvish will still be there, as Ed was for many years before, handing out free turkeys. And it will still be possible to get a DVD player, a bust of Elvis and a jumbo pack of diapers all for under $35 for years to come. Ed's idea was to let a young family, new Canadians, or whoever needed it, get the help necessary to get on their feet in the first place. I think he firmly believed that given the chance anyone could work their way up to be who he was, a man loved by his city and his customers alike. The past week there have been a lot of photos of Ed Mirvish in the paper, and you'll notice that in everyone he is beaming, and I think that is perhaps how he will be best remembered, for his infectious smile. Ed is dead - long live Ed Mirvish.

And, no, it would not be appropriate to post that song by the Pixies.

Between Timid and Timbuktu

When I was 11 years old, I was one of those kids who was labeled as 'gifted' and placed in a special program once a week at a different school, where we had a lot of fun, but I don't think I really learned all that much. Seemed to be that the biggest perk was having the fun, and not having to deal with the drudgery of regular schoolwork. (I missed an entire year's worth of 'music' with the worst music teacher in the world thanks to this.) In the seventh and eight grades, they started having us do independent study, and gave us theme options to loosely corral us into some semblance of discipline. One term, on a whim, I chose Science Fiction - this would have been shortly after Return of the Jedi, but long before Star Trek Next Generation, so my exposure was somewhat limited. To get us inspired, they presented us with a shelf of books, and not sure what I was looking for, I pulled this one out:



I admit, I was likely captivated by the lithe female forms garcing the cover - I would have been 12 or 13 at the time after all - but got sucked into this incredible universe, that likely forever polluted my concept of what sci-fi actually was. (I certainly don't remember much else from that particular class.) But what I took from him, and what kept taking, the more Vonnegut I read, was the overwhelming sense of humanity in his writing, the depth of feeling, and moral outrage at the shitty shitty things that man is capable of doing to man. I haven't read much writing since Timequake, and haven't honestly read any of my copies of his works in a few years, but I am certain to return to him now. Slaughterhouse-Five and Breakfast of Champions are easy and obvious favorites, but I may start with Bluebeard, a favorite for the ballsy reveal at the end that bests the title, but also for its sense of hope and optimism; in a sense, redemption for the despair of the current state of things. I think he was far more optimistic than people give him credit for.

People - at least people in movies - like to say that the dead have gone to a better place; I would prefer to think that Kurt Vonnegut has become unstuck in time, and is currently spending time on Tralfamador with Billy Pilgrim and Unk and Kilgore Trout, and that he'll be back.