Unfortunately, on my way to the station I got a flat tire. (I know, I know, I’m supposed to take the TTC.) While I was waiting for the CAA man to come replace it (and yes, I should learn to do that myself) I took a peek at Eglinton station.
I remembered Eglinton from the time of my life when I was a highly paid television scriptwriter, working for TVOntario, which is located there. Back then, I shopped in the adjoining mall for new clothes, I ate out frequently at spiffy restaurants nearby and I didn’t mention to any of my professional colleagues that I was a songwriter. If I had a nagging feeling that I wasn’t on exactly the right path, it was neatly compensated for by the large paycheques I was receiving.
If my Former Self, zipping in and out of meetings at Eglinton and Yonge, could see me now, what would she say? Congratulations for following your dream and your creative spirit? Or, what were you thinking, stepping off the lucrative commercial writing ladder?
Looking at the crowds at Eglinton Station—clearly a good prospect for busking—I didn’t have the heart to find out.
Because of the flat tire, I was delayed and therefore hungry. If a former client ran into me here while I was singing—no matter how well—I’d probably burst into tears. Talk about deflated.
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Instead, after lunch, I headed back to my beloved Woodbine.
Another interesting detail of this station is that the busking post is directly across from a reflective panel of glass: you can watch yourself while you’re singing. I like that. It reminds me that I actually look pretty good.
Today, several people actually apologized that they didn’t have any change handy. A few people stopped at the top of the escalators leading down to the train, so they could listen to me for as long as possible before the train arrived.
One man stopped, apparently delighted, as I was singing my song "Luminous Veil". Not exactly a peppy song, it’s about the suicide barrier over the Don Valley Parkway near Broadview Station. (Broadview is currently overtaken by construction, but it’s the closest station to my home and I have my eye on it.)
Later, a lovely Irish man, himself carrying a guitar, stopped to talk and donated a toonie. It turns out he’s a licensed street musician. (I didn’t know Toronto issued licenses for street buskers too!) He invited me to the Yonge Street Mission on Thursday nights, where another subway musician whom I know also plays. He kindly suggested that it’d be okay for my husband to come along, if it would make us both feel more comfortable.
Also, if I understood him correctly, he said he'd made an appearance once on the TV show "Touched By An Angel". I could believe it.
He urged me to keep singing. "By God, it’s good."
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When I was driving around today, I heard CBC Radio talking about Joni Mitchell, who has just received an honourary doctorate from McGill University. In honour of the occasion, they played one of my favourite Joni songs, "Help Me".
Shelagh Rogers suggested, wisely I think, that it would be interesting to study the theme of freedom in Joni Mitchell songs. She remembered the lyrics "We love our loving, but not like we love our freedom" and "I was a free man in Paris."
I remembered another lyric. "He was playing real good, for free."
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