Instead I had to hurriedly run around looking for something to write about. I did find some ceremony happening in front of Old City Hall:

I thought maybe it was a wedding or something, but there were media there and a bunch of old people wearing medals. Didn’t look very joyous, actually. And the fact that they were setting up in front of the old war memorial seemed pretty morose.

But I was in a rush because my original plan had gone completely out the window, so I didn’t stop to ask what was going on. As a result, today’s post will unfortunately have to rely on some borrowed Toronto Archives material as filler. I apologize.

Hopefully you’ll find it interesting. I chose to include some pictures of Claire Wallace as she interviewed some veterans of the second World War for the CBC. I don’t know why I chose this subject but something about it jumped out at me the moment I saw it. Wish my memory would do the same!

Luckily, back in the day reporters were like gods and carried around entire recording crews with them wherever they went. Kind of like me but none of my recording devices fetch me coffee or massage my bunions. So through the miracle of the Dictaphone (slung around a lackey’s neck), many of these moments were recorded. While the original recorded cylinders have now been lost, their plausible  transcripts still exist. And I’ve included excerpts with the pictures for extra depth. I sincerely hope it begins to make up for my lost idea. Dammit!

Wallace: You know, I can stand here all day like this until you look up at me.

Pvt. Bilko: I’d rather die first, ma’am.

Wallace: So am I to take it you involuntarily urinate every few minutes?

Sgt. Wilko: But … you already asked me that. Five times.

Wallace: And I will ask again if I feel like it! You’re the invalid, I’m the interviewer. (whispered) Don’t forget who’s in charge here.

Sgt. Wilko: You … bitch.

Wallace: Wrong answer. Nurse, the injection…

Wallace: So you maintain that you’re not lovers?

Pvt. Schilko: No ma’am. Just happen to have beds in the same room.

Pvt. Theodocious: S’right.

Wallace: R-i-g-h-t. Well, it’s your choice if you want to hide in the shadows like scared little girls. Some men have courage.

Pvt. Schilko: But…

Wallace: Maybe we need another approach. Huh?

Wallace: Your friend Wilco was a tough nut, but I cracked his hide. Am I gonna have to do the same here?

Sgt. Okliw: What, use bad metaphors? Har har har! (coughs)

Wallace: Ah yes, a joker. Very good. Nurse, let’s make him laugh…

Wallace: There, and now I’m here. Now are you ready to admit you’re gay?

Pvt. Theodocious: But ma’am, we’re really not…

Wallace: I wasn’t talking to you, tubby!

Pvt. Schilko: He’s right. This is a hospital, we have to share the room. Believe me, I really am st…

Wallace: Well then there’s no pleasing you, young man! You can go straight to hell! Nurse!

Don’t worry if you don’t know who Claire Wallace is. I don’t think she was very famous, and as you can see by her interview technique, she didn’t really do her job as a reporter very well. She didn’t ask the really incisive questions. But, she’s a slice of Toronto’s history as, I’m sure, are some of the soldiers she interviewed. The Archives have plenty more of this kind of stuff, but I’ve borrowed enough. I can only mask my lack of remembrance so far; next time I’ll just have to write down my ideas or something.

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