Last evening when I finished volunteering at the hospital, I took a taxi home. I don’t live that far away and usually take the subway, but I was tired and thought, “What the heck, I don’t feel like dealing with crowds tonight.” No sooner was I in the car, then the driver started talking about 9/11, telling me where he’d been when he heard the news. As it happens, he was at the license bureau, renewing his license; and then he said, “I’ll never forget where I was.”
And neither will I.
The Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) is always right after Labour Day. I’m a real film fanatic and have been going for years (not this year, though). And I’m one of the crazies — in 10 days, I’d see 50 films. You do the math. Anyway, I was in a movie. It started at 8:30 a.m. and, because it was a ‘small’ movie made by a totally unknown director, it was showing in a small theatre, at the ROM (Royal Ontario Museum). I had four more movies to see that day; and a friend of mine was meeting me for the next one.
When the film was over I went outside and checked my voice mail. Now that I think back, it is very strange that no one was talking about what had happened, when Continue reading