The Street - A Composite Sketch (12)

Not a very long street, just off a major arterial, it is shaped like a question mark. At the conclusion of the bulge it meanders into another street. One half of the street backs onto a heavily wooded ravine, a neighbourhood treasure, though few of the street's residents quite recognize its value, nor make use of its propinquity. It cleanses the air everyone breathes, it hosts birds and wildlife and presents a treasury of wildflowers throughout the seasons. At one time the street, part of a larger suburban community, shared a small-town address. It has long since been subsumed into the greater national capital of the country, through a wide-ranging amalgamation of communities and even farms. The street and the houses on it were built two and a half decades ago. The domiciles are comprised mostly of single-family, detached dwellings, with a handful of semis verging on the main thoroughfare. Many of the residents are the original home purchasers. They would comprise roughly 50% of the residents of the street. The semis appear to have changed hands far more often than the detached homes. And those homes that have been re-sold have often enjoyed a succession of owners. The original home owners who moved into their houses when their children were small have mostly bid farewell to now-grown children. The street represents an amalgam of family types, and there is a significant percentage at this time, of retired people, singly and in couples who, though their houses are meant for family occupation, still opt to remain in their too-large, but comfortable and familiar and valued homes. It is a very quiet street, with little traffic other than those who live there. The house fronts are diverse, and attractive. Most residents take care of their homes, seeing them as their primary investments. Furnaces have been replaced, and air conditioners, and also windows. Kitchens and bathrooms have been remodelled, and people have added decks and occasionally airy 'summer houses' to the backs of their homes. One-third of the homes boast swimming pools, in-ground and above-ground. Most people take pride in their properties, and feel they must achieve lawns that are weedless and smoothly green. Some painstakingly remove weeds by hand in the spring, others hire lawn-care companies to spread chemicals on their lawns. Invariably, the people who look after their own gardens and lawns have superior gardens and lawns. Each house has a large tree planted in front; maples, ash,crabapples, spruce or pine, fully mature. This is a community that is truly mixed, representing people from around the world, come to Canada as immigrants, settled and making the most of opportunities open to all its citizens in a free and open society noted for its pluralism and dedication to fair representation. There are the extroverts and the introverts, those who prefer not to mingle, others who do. They are herewith loosely sketched:

This is the twelvth part of the anatomy of The Street.

They had already lived in Canada for over a decade, before they bought their house. They'd sold a previously-owned house on a nearby street. Not a single-detached; a much smaller house. With one very young child and another soon to be born, they wanted a larger property on a quieter street. So the couple, Sikhs from India's Punjab, moved into the brand new house on a brand new street, excited and happy at the opportunity.

They had a lot of family living nearby, as well; brothers, sisters, uncles, nephews and nieces on both sides. Though his brother wore a turban, he did not, just a neat beard. And though her sister continued to affect saris, she preferred pant-suits. Their children were quintessentially Indian children. Doe-eyed, large black pupils, gleaming coarse black hair, lovely oval faces, brilliant-enamelled smiles and flawlessly olive-toned complexions.

He appeared much older than his wife. His hair a cap of grey, so too his beard, fully grey verging on white, soon to turn stark white. Her hair was a rich, deep black, her facial features delicately symmetrical, smile shy. Nothing shy about him, however. He was a complete and natural extrovert, outgoing and verbose, an opinion on everything and eager to hear anyone else's opinions.

He worked for the Dustbane Group as a skilled machinist. Back home in India his family had owned a local textile plant. They specialized in ornate draperies. He had, in fact, expertly sewed all the beautiful draperies that now hung in their new house. And there were many windows in that new house; the great room had double-story windows.

They attended Sikh events at their gurdwara, and were a comfortable part of the Sikh community, but they also integrated fully into the Canadian social compact. New to gardening, they accepted offers from neighbours for perennial cuttings when lilies, bellflowers, hostas and hydrangeas were separated in the autumn.

Their young son's beauty captured the admiration of other young mothers on the street. Their children melded effortlessly into street life and the schools they attended locally. With the other children on the street, they went out at Hallowe'en. The lithely graceful, lovely girl had her companions among the other girls; the boy played hockey and soccer.

The parents twice returned to India with their children, for family affairs and to ensure their children knew their heritage, accepted those values. As the girl grew to maturity she looked for male companionship from among those in the expatriate Indian community. When she married, it was a traditional affair, lush and lavish, colourful and infused with community spirit; exotic by Canadian standards.

Their son, dark and physically slight, gained skills in the competitive sports he loved and his parents encouraged him. Hockey resulted in a series of injuries that put him out of commission for long recuperative periods, and soccer did the same. Finally, puzzling bouts of nausea, heavy heart palpitations and dizziness defied diagnosis, until it was put down to high stress. Serious enough that he had to sign off sports.

During the time the children were growing, thriving, completing their education, their father, given to black, dark moods of depression began to exhibit troubling symptoms that left him breathless, bereft of energy. He finally went on short-term work leave. When he returned to work after a protracted recuperative period he was irritable and his usual sensitivity to perceived slights propelled him into bitter arguments with his supervisor.

He was advised by his union representative to make peace with the supervisor, but his stubborn, argumentative streak held him back. He lost his permanent employment. Then he began to work part-time at a local hardware and home-supply store. Still relatively young and reasonably fit, he was expected to haul awkward and heavy items. Eventually the work sapped his energy.

His right shoulder suffered a torn ligament that would not heal and caused him great discomfort. An operation solved nothing. He was no longer employable at physical tasks, all that he was capable of. During the day, as an early retiree, he passed time with other retired neighbours, cleaned house, prepared meals to alleviate his wife's working day. His obliging son did the physical work around the house; lawn mowing, snow shovelling.

Their daughter who had gone off to work in Toronto, and who had met her future husband there, now lived in that city. She and her husband frequently made the drive back home to visit with her family. They were establishing themselves in Toronto. She had a well paid position with an advertising agency, and her husband was completing his medical studies as an anaesthetist.

The wife worried constantly about her husband's dark moods. The neighbours saw only a kind, cheerful and companionable neighbour.

c. 2009 Rita Rosenfeld