A love letter to Toronto

In late September, I attended a most unusual concert: a string quartet from the Toronto Symphony Orchestra performed on the rooftop running track of the Central YMCA. It was a beautiful night. As the musicians played Mozart and Haydn, you could feel the joy emanating from the audience. This fall, because the TSO can’t play in Roy Thomson Hall, the orchestra is taking small ensembles on the road, to seniors’ homes and youth shelters. It’s a nice idea: communities hardest hit by the pandemic will get to hear great music, and it gives musicians a reason to play.

Sitting on the rooftop that night, I felt grateful to live in Toronto. The experience of listening to music at an athletic centre in the middle of downtown was so urban (an occasional siren interrupted the music). The TSO’s principal education conductor and community ambassador introduced the concert speaking openly about the challenges of growing up Black and gay in the classical music world and about the importance of reaching diverse audiences.

I thought about the people who have left Toronto over the last few months—and what they’re missing. The pandemic has led to a mini exodus of Torontonians who are choosing square footage and the great outdoors over the richness of cosmopolitanism. They have discovered that they can buy a giant old stone house in Port Hope or a cozy lakeside bungalow in Bracebridge for a fraction of the cost of a house in Toronto.

I can’t imagine surviving the pandemic without city life. It’s true that many of the things I used to love about Toronto are either closed or feel too risky. But lots of things are still going on: in September, I spent a wonderful afternoon at the AGO and saw a terrific movie at a TIFF drivein. And some things about city life are even better now than before the pandemic. One recent Saturday night, I walked downtown and stumbled upon a Stéphane Grappelli–style jazz band playing on the sidewalk. I felt like I was in Europe.

The pandemic pushed Torontonians out of their condos, apartments and houses and into the streets and parks of the city,

making the city more alive than ever before. I’ll never forget the sounds of the Raptors’ playoff games. Gasps and cheers flooded our backyards with every point scored. The whole city was focused on one thing, and there was a sense of togetherness despite the physical separation.

This month, we’ve rounded up all the reasons we love the city, now more than ever, in our cover package (page 43). One of my favourite items: the sudden proliferation of bottle shops. For as long as I can remember, Torontonians have kvetched about the lack of neighbourhood wine boutiques. They’d visit Paris or Brooklyn and discover the joy of a small, idiosyncratic wine bodega run by an obsessive oenophile. Now, many Toronto restaurants have transformed themselves into highly curated shops with specialized lists, and they’re so much fun to visit.

You should check them out, not only because they’re delightful but also because Toronto businesses need the support. To nourish the city we love, we have to buy stuff from local retailers, order takeout from our favourite restaurants, sign up for food subscription boxes and, if possible, give generously to cultural groups that make our city so vibrant and have been hit so hard by Covid-19. Because when it comes to the health and well-being of our city, we really are in this together.