A Poet's Park

On Saturday I went with a friend to Inspire!, Toronto's new book fair, which was a multi-stage riot of booksellers, publishers, readings, panel discussions, and children's activities. I've been forced to attend many a trade show on behalf of various former employers and always viewed them as dreadful ordeals: tiring and airless and schmoozy. Slogs to be endured. Now I know why those were so horrible (especially that godawful one in Las Vegas long ago): no books. In contrast, at the fun and inspirational BOOK fair I was energized by many hours of wandering past displays, chatting, meeting people, listening to writers, and oh right, buying books. I overspent wildly.

And a nice re-discovery, on my way from the Convention Centre to the car: a tiny Toronto park dedicated to 19th century poet Isabella Valancy Crawford, an Irish immigrant to Canada who lived for a time in Lakefield. I haven't read much of her poetry, and what I have read isn't, I confess, my thing. But it's impressive that the city formally recognized an impoverished young poet of the past. I'd like to know more about how the park came to be.

Once, years ago, my family was sitting on the little strip of grass in the shadow of the CN Tower. We were eating a cheap lunch bought from a hotdog truck when I noticed the plaques. It seemed a strange coincidence that of all the places we could land in the Big Smoke, we had happened upon a space commemorating one of the literary icons of our village.

So this time, even though it was dark and my camera is basic, I took photos. Another kind of inspiration.