Oxford Street

   It seems as though I have been driving down Oxford Street my whole life. I got my driver's licence round about '71 and my Oxford Street history commenced then. Prior to '71, we grocery shopped at the Loblaws(?) at the Oakridge Plaza at Hyde Park and Oxford. I remember this mainly because I'd moved here from Vancouver in '64 and never in my life had I experienced humidity like they have here in London. The Loblaws store was also the first place I'd ever experienced air conditioning and it was such a wonderful place to be! We also made occasional forays along Oxford to get to the Twilite Drive-In at Highway 22 and Hyde Park.
   At this point I should probably mention that, at the time, I was living and growing up in Oakridge Acres. I attended Hutton Road Public School, corner of Hutton Road (now Wonderland) and Oxford and then Oakridge Secondary, on Oxford near Hyde Park.
   So it seems as though my early life was intrinsically tied to Oxford, and the closely surrounding area. In the sixties, there was a very rural feel to the whole area. Hutton Road School actually bordered a farm and I can remember one day when a bunch of us gathered by the school fence so we could watch a calf being born. Doesn't get too much more rural than that!
   Progress, however, well... progressed. Farms were torn down for firehalls and housing, malls were built, and highrises went up. All the people living in, working at or shopping in these places travelled along Oxford to get there and I soon joined them!
   Shortly after getting my licence, I occasionally was allowed to drive our second car to and from high school. I'd pick up my friend Bob from around the corner and off we would go. At the time, we had some kind of car that used what my Dad referred to as "vacuum wipers". Don't know if this was the actual term for them and for sure don't understand the technology behind them but the end result was that when you sped up, the wipers slowed down!
   Because of this, I distinctly remember one very rainy morning when Bob and I were attempting to negotiate the hill on Oxford just east of the high school. It was a downpour and we found we more or less had to gun it to get up the hill. Well, the more we gunned it the slower the wipers got! As a matter of fact, before we reached the apex of the hill they stopped! Much nervous laughter between two neophyte high school drivers ensued (along with some cussing...). To this very day, I find myself remembering this just about every single time I drive up that same hill.
   Eventually, as progress progressed, Oxford (in the Oakridge area anyway) turned from one lane to two, speeds increased, etc. and it became much more of a thoroughfare. My old public school was sold and eventually demolished, its bricks became a tiny little strip mall and its playground became a Gulf station. All, of course, at the corner of Oxford and Wonderland. And I, of course, ended up working at the Gulf station, watching Oxford pass me by every day.
   My first apartment was kitty-corner to that wonderful air-conditioned Loblaws and I took the bus down Oxford to get to the gas station(I washed cars there). This led to other stuff, different jobs, strange romances, a wonderful woman, wonderful kids, a home in a totally different part of the city, another wonderful woman and more wonderful kids and now I travel down Oxford street every day of my life.
   Pretty well every day of my life for almost 20 years now. And along the way there are familiar faces. I only know bits and pieces about most of them and about some of them I know almost nothing. If you travel Oxford Street at all on any kind of regular basis you may(almost assuredly) have passed by them. You may even have noticed them.
   There is a woman. She lives in a building reserved mainly for people with psychiatric issues. I noticed her the first time about almost ten years ago. She smokes and is nervous. Her hair used to be straight and jet black. It is almost white now.
   There is a man, standing by the side of the street, watching the traffic. His mouth moves, his hands wave and he plays with things. He's had cancer but you wouldn't know it. He'll talk yo you. Unless he knows you.
   She has a walker and crosses the street slowly. If the sidewalk is impassable, she will walk down the roadway and there will be almost no room for cars to pass safely.
   He propels his wheelchair with his feet, not his hands. He's looking to remove any little bit of garbage he can find, mostly because he has to. One hand is almost useless and he'd like a doctor to cut it off but the doctor won't.
   There is a man on an island. I understand(co-incidentally)that his name is Brian. He drags one foot behind him and he carries a sign. He limps badly, unless he is in a Tim's, in which case, he's fine.
   A man on a bike, everywhere, aluminum cans and glass bottles in his bike carrier.

   I don't talk to most of these people, as I don't know them. I almost feel like I could though, there is that growing familiarity. Maybe even a wave would do, a honk on the phone.
   My car gives me a level of anonymity as I travel up and down Oxford Street, otherwise I wonder if some of these same people might notice me.  And, as much as we are all a constant with each other, Oxford Street itself changes slowly but relentlessly. I am blessed in that I am able to see this happen as it happens and not return, after perhaps having been gone for years, and not really know where I was anymore!
   We all have routes we travel every day. Mine is Oxford Street and these were some of the people who frequent it. I'm glad for their presence, too, it is a long stretch of road, from one end of the city to the other, and a familiar face enlivens it. Perhaps, one of these days, I should get out of my car...


* if you can guess the significance of the colour scheme I used in this blog, please comment*

P.S. Also, hope you enjoyed the 3D effect...