Prelude

I feel that the Summer of ’26 was a microcosm of the past three years of my time at U of T. It started out hopeful, with the anticipation of novelty around every corner and a memorable time. I met people that would never have been on my radar otherwise. I heard stories carried from beyond the horizon. I laughed at jokes that I didn’t quite get and smiled to myself when I thought about how incredible it is that I have found myself here and now. It was all a surprise to be sure but a welcome one.

Water: I think I like water, here’s why…

Growing up somewhere landlocked, I rarely found myself near a large body of water. Visiting lakes or rivers was a special occasion — reserved for school trips and holidays. When I moved to Toronto, and Lake Ontario by extension, the idea of taking a short walk to the water failed to cross my mind. Sure, I’d heard of the fabled water taxi to The Islands and had seen images of the harbourfront, and the vast expanse on the approach to Pearson Airport. But experience is a different thing. 

My first taste of the lake was during a day trip with an engineer I met on the street –- and his friends. We went to Scarborough Bluffs, had a walk, had a picnic, and played dodgeball. It was a blur, but I remember feeling the cool breeze that tends to hang around large bodies of water, and it was a real “Anton Ego” moment. I got flashbacks to all the times I’ve ever been on a boat, a lake, a river — big water. 

Then I visited the Bluffs a second time, with a one-time hermit — and his friends. He ate bread by the water. I found that profound in a way that I could not explain. Sitting there and just existing by a lake had me reeling for a hot minute. 

Having experienced all this, I think I like large bodies of water; there’s just something about them. While I’ve never been to the beach, riverbanks and the lakeside are similar enough — they have all the important bits (sand and water). I can appreciate sand well enough, it’s coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere, but it’s also the result of the world around us breaking down rocks and stuff, with a healthy dose of aquatic creature parts — which is neat. 

On a slight tangent, you know what else breaks down into little pieces? Anthropogenic debris — which happens to ruin the whole water thing that lakes and rivers have going on. Trash in the water is a real bother, and my summer was spent doing something about it.

Trash: How much trash can a trash trap trap if a trash trap could trap trash

I was hired to do some field research on the Toronto waterfront. After running one too many chromatograms in the chem lab, I felt the need to do some science outside. You won’t find me out in the wild, exposing myself to summer ticks and Lyme disease. But the field can be many things, like harbours, a police station, marinas, or a yacht club. 

This summer I’ve been collecting things in the waters of Lake Ontario and the Don River. There’s been a lot of neat stuff like a message in a bottle and ten dollars, but there’s also been a bunch of not-so-neat stuff like pre-production plastic pellets, pieces of foam packaging, and a bag of chicken eggs. For every silly toy or winter boot, there were ten bottle caps and food wrappers. I was reminded of how trashy trash can be. When I wasn’t trapping trash, I was interacting with a whole range of critters in the downtown wilds.

I was fighting red-winged blackbirds, dodging seagulls, skirting around dangerous swans and getting hissed at by nasty geese. I saw a beaver for the first time. A real, honest, hard-working beaver that was just hanging out on a bike path at Tommy Thompson Park. I also saw the most adorable looking turtle tangled up in a mess of weeds and foam pieces. 

People can do so much to harm the world that holds them, and it makes me so very sad. But when I look up and around me I see my peers doing the same work that I do. 

I see curious citizens stopping to look and ask questions, wondering what they can do to make a difference, hoping that we can fix this mess we’ve made. I have met a man who talked about cement, someone who used to dance the evenings away back in the ‘80s, and a guy that donated ice cream and cereal. I spotted the excited gleam in the eyes of kids as they gazed upon the clean water after we cleared some trash. I saw and heard all this, and I was grateful to the me in March who decided to apply for this job.

Time: “All you have is time.” – Ian

Even as I enter my final year as an undergrad, there remains that hopeful anticipation of a fresh start and the chance to experience something new. I shall meet new people, find new cappuccinos, and then gradually settle into a routine. I will come across something old, something new, something owed, something something. 

That said, I have started to come to terms with the idea that this thing is going to end soon; that time waits for no one and races on regardless. These thoughts and feelings are the same ones I had in my first year — both a promise and a reminder. 

I know you’ve heard a variation of this from family, friends, and anyone who has ever gone before you. As someone who is going on to the next thing soon enough, I leave this for those who come after. 

In the words of a fictional mother sending her son towards the stars, you can’t stop change any more than you can stop the suns from setting.