Memory Chest

What will I do in Thornhill, I moaned to my partner, Frank, when it became clear that I would have to isolate either at my Victorian row house in the Annex or at his restored bungalow north of Toronto. Well, he asked, what would you be doing at home? For a few years now, I’ve wanted, if ever I had the time, to go through three large trunks in my basement, full of things I’ve saved for over forty years. Let’s bring them up here, Frank suggested.

The trunks, it turned out, were too heavy to haul upstairs, so I ran to the hardware store and got extra-strength garbage bags, like they use on construction sites. We quickly filled eight of them and brought them to the suburbs.

Every day since mid-March, I have spent a few hours reaching down and bringing up treasure. I never know what I’ll find: yellowed newspaper articles I...