By Leslie Morgenson
Published in September 2008
I was joyfully spurred on to begin walking to work for many reasons including my need for exercise, but mostly I was feeling as if there was something I was missing by not walking. Everyone at St. John’s Kitchen is a walker and I’ve recently been reading Rebecca Solnit, Iain Sinclair and Henry David Thoreau who all speak as if walking were the last frontier. The stories of walkers are vibrant as if they were engaged in life while those of us in cars and buses were mere spectators.
I too, am now engaged with my 35 minute brisk walk. And I’ve met some old friends along the way. Memories of a life lived in these twin cities. As I walk down King St., I pass the construction of the new University of Waterloo Pharmacy building. Early in the construction they added a beautiful sea foam green panel of glass with some nodding flowers. As the weeks went by more floral windows have appeared but my favourite is still the first installation with a single poppy bud.
The other day I stopped for a moment to take it all in and suddenly I remembered standing in that same spot maybe 11 years ago. We all were invited, that day in my memory, to watch the old smoke stack come down at the Epton factory, formerly B.F. Goodrich. I had told my family I would meet them there but once I’d arrived I realized I’d never find them in the crowd of maybe 1,000 people, when out of the blue I heard the voice of my three year old son. I’d found them.
Just before I get to those windows I pass the location years ago of H. Salt Fish and Chips. It was such a huge hit when it arrived in town, maybe 40 years ago, bringing us something new- malt vinegar. Today we are fortunate to have food from many foreign lands available to us but in my childhood there were few and malt vinegar was a big deal.
I then come to the old Kauffman footwear factory on the corner of King and Victoria. This was where my grandfather worked as a leather cutter for most of his life. It was one of the few factories in town that never had a union. For reasons I could never understand, my grandfather was proud of this fact. The old factory still remains, presently being converted into condominiums. I feel as though I should be happy that they haven’t razed the old building, but somehow I’m not. There’s too much that’s missing. The bustle of people, in and out, filling the streets with their camaraderie; a downtown alive with industry; a noon hour and quitting time whistle for everyone in the neighbourhood to set their lives by; and of course, my grandfather.
I ask some of the other walkers, also long time residents in these cities what they miss in the downtown. Memories are not usually just about buildings, although everyone I spoke with unanimously laments the passing of the old Kitchener City Hall and lunches at Goudies. But the real losses involve people. One walker remembers coming downtown with his mother. They always stopped at Kitchener Dairy for a grilled cheese sandwich. Another gentleman couldn’t quite put his finger on what he missed, but he knew he sure did miss it. “It’s just the old ways I miss,” he says. “There was more of everything, more honesty, more community.”
For certain, the streets were once filled with more, making us feel as if we had more. Like the fellow missing the “old ways” what I really miss is the climate of the times. As young children we took the bus downtown, caught a movie, went to the Woolworth’s counter afterwards for french fries and a coke, strolled downtown and got home sometime later. We bought the KW Record on the honour system from the open metal stand at the bottom of our street. We didn’t lock our car, we didn’t wear seatbelts or helmets and we felt freer. Maybe this is what makes walking so appealing. It is incorruptible. It continues to be as freeing today as it always was. It opens doors to the memories of the past, the street conversations or quiet meditations of the present, and the unknown future, just around the corner.
