Contents ©2012 Astrid Idlewild. Do not excerpt without written permission.
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I did none of this alone. If anything, statistically speaking, I should never have even made it this far. But I have. So no, this kind of thing never happens in isolation, much as I sometimes tend to think it does (“works independently!”). No. I would be dead without this satellite of a family to support me, to laugh with me, cry with me argue with me, and love with me. This is not hyperbole.
Gwen Cadogàn, Case van Rij, and Avni Pandya: my triptych, were you to see what’s inside me. It’s this trio. They have long been my core.
Mae Lin Gould, Wendy Clark, and Shanie Latham: for unswervingly staying by my side since before I could begin to live.
My father, Joseph Goins: for surprising my faith when it was twice shattered.
Cassandra Martin, Katie Holm, Claire Getzewich, Skaht Hansen, and Sara Ewing: for holding steadfast in the prairies despite all these years in between.
Cáit Power, Taleen Der Haroutounian, Paul Giang, and Jeffrey Robson: for bringing solace, needed laughter, and mirth to some very difficult times whilst exiled in Mooréal.
Andrew & Sue Martin, Gina Silver, Ryan Bassler, and Eric Haugen: my family of acquisition, every bit as integral to me as my body.
Benjamin Sulky, Chloe Richer, and Alicia “Neville Park” Pang: for being my co-conspiratorial Torontologists-in-arms (mostly just arm-in-arm as we walk the plains of what was once Garrison Creek).
Catherine Forshey, Tim Chevalier, Monika London, Natalie Baldwin, Stephen Ira, Jen Richards, and Morgan Phillips: for each of you somehow finding a way to enter my life over this past year of research, growth, fierce resolve, and helping me stare down with Patience what scares each of us the most.
Janet Mock: as this beacon of the possible.
Will Straw, Shelley Cornack, Emily Gilbert, Damian Dupuy, Rick Salutin, and Deb Cowen: for persistently arguing the case that I’m not an impostor, that this syndrome is just that, and that it can be faced down. Somehow. I’m still struggling.
Dr. Gunter Gad: for being everything to the Kodachrome Toronto Registry, for mentoring me, and for reaching across different experiences to share our elation for what is the most amazing city in the world. I miss you.
Emma Lander, Lindsay Denise, Liz McLaughlin, Toby Bowers: for being my bedrock and anchors of calm in Toronto.
Kaitlyn Kochany, Suzanne DeWeese, Kelli Korducki, Jon Medow, Valerie Kalantyrski, Desmond Cole, Wendy Koslow, Hilary Browning, and Stephanie Friel: as my Toronto extended family.
Jake Wenzel, Michele Haley, Vanessa “Kenickiestreet” Nash-Gale, Sol Chrom, Emma Woolley, Amanda Peet, Rebecca Hammond, and Mark Savel: for emerging as new constellations in my Toronto cluster.
Rachel Engel, Rachel Hestilow, Shu Latif, Pam Keesey, and Carlene Thatcher-Martin: westsiiiide.
For Katharine Mieszkowski: the first woman who first showed me that I could.
Gladys Chan, Anand Sood, Heather Braiden, and Molly Johnson: for putting up with my contant ennui about the many pitfalls of the past three years, and bringing me back together after the accident.
Eric Veillette and Derek Flack: for making the name of the Registry known to many more good Torontonians.
Kate Lonergan: for, well, that’s a complicated question. You nudged me forward in ways I’ll never be able to explain.
Mary Mackenzie, Steve, and the York & Addy posse: for making me a thousand-fold tougher on these many Hogtown streets.
Shannon Minter and Joni Thome: for justices not yet secured.
Erika Turgoose: for putting up with my many idiosyncrasies over the past year of research and for tolerating my absent-mindedness.
For the awesome staff at the City of Toronto Archives: all of whom have fantastically supported the unique requirements of this field research.
Nik Luka: for watching over my ad hoc curriculum and sharing in the pursuit of preserving a civic memory’s ephemeral traces.
For Crishaun “CeCe” McDonald and every one of my sisters and brothers who must stare down this wall past which our narratives of survival shall be affirmed with no further questions or latitude for dispute (or disrepute).
RAISING A GLASS OF BOURBON PLANNING
For Maxim “Maks” Wells (1982–2011): my fellow outlier in our cohort, but the one who couldn’t make it to the end of this. This project is for all of the bourbon planning and all of teh kittehs. Wind your way down Baker Street, elmaks.
For those taken before their time: Cora Hillbairn (2012), Jenna Morrison (2011), Jack Layton (2011), Wendy Babcock (2011), Penny Bethke (2011), Al Sheppard (2009), Via Vento (2003), and Paul & Sheila Wellstone (2002).
For my grandmothers Louise “Gi-Gi” Goins (1916–2008) and Mary Dunnahoe (1925–1998).
And to Judith Resnik (5 April 1949–28 January 1986): my very first role model.