Tuesday, December 14, 2010

But not like the Yukon


The temperature is down to 20 degrees. There’s a dusting of snow on the parked cars and street. Ted has brought banners for the crafts fair. He’s headed to COSTCO for supplies. I remind him not to forget the first aid kit. A young Latina mother and her daughter come in from the cold to wait for the bus and look around. I share a brochure, talk about the church. I sit in the cold, worrying about the negotiations around the agreement with Landmarks West! About the incredible gap in understanding that still remains. They are adamant about reassurances there will be no attempt to reverse landmarking. Our folks still feel that after the cost of that process to us, there’s a debt to be paid. Hopefully attorneys can work this out and stress levels won’t rise too high. I take cards for the crafts fair to Gary Greengrass and to Francois across the street. He’s sitting in his shelter, cheeks red, reading the paper, no gloves or mittens. He agrees its cold, and laughs, “but not like the Yukon.” Well, there’s that. Christmas songs running through my head. Eleven days to go.

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