Richard Berman

“I remember with absolute clarity the instant when I realized that this was the place for me”

I’ve actually immigrated to Canada twice, eventually settling in Parkdale. Americans are always incredulous that I gave up the great California weather, and Canadians wonder why I left the Bay Area when so many Torontonians dream about working in Silicon Valley. The short answer is that Toronto is my favourite city in the world. Native Torontonians roll their eyes at that idea – on some level, I believe that the only people who truly love this city are people who came here from other places. It’s very easy to take Toronto for granted.

My entire family is still in the United States, and many of my friends and relatives are Trump supporters, which makes sense, because I was raised in captivity by Republicans. I love mixing it up with my friends and family when it comes to politics, even though most of them think that I am some sort of godless communist. I actually find it harder to talk about politics with my more liberal friends, who are aghast and heartbroken at what is happening in the United States right now. All of them are sleepless, wondering about what the outcome of the next election will be. So am I.

I remember with absolute clarity the instant when I realized that this was the place for me. I was 16 years old, and my dad and I were here to scope out U of T. He fell asleep early in our hotel and I went out for a walk. Keep in mind, this was not something that I would have done in any American city; I grew up in a very safe, boring suburb, and it was impressed upon me that downtowns were dangerous places, best avoided. I remember walking down Philosopher’s Walk when I saw a group of three people coming the other way. I became paranoid that I was going to get mugged, so I threw my wallet behind a tree. As I passed by the group, one of them yelled, “Hey kid – I think you dropped your wallet!” That was my welcome-to-Toronto moment.

Back in 1992, my dad came to visit me in Toronto. I needed to get a few things for my new apartment, above Papa Ceo’s pizza at Harbord and Spadina, so my dad drove me and my roommate to Honest Ed’s. As we got out of the car, Ed ran toward us, pointing at my dad’s licence plate, yelling, “Are you from Virginia?!” He and my dad got into a very long, animated conversation, and it turned out that Ed was not only a Virginia native, but he’d known my grandfather back in the early 1950s. My dad had absolutely no concept of who this guy was, which made the whole thing much funnier. The two of them played Virginia Jewish geography for a while, and Ed invited my dad into the store to have a beer in his office. He ended up giving me and my roommate special shopping cards for the store, and we spent an hour stocking up on housewares while my dad and Ed shot the shit. As we were leaving, Ed gave my dad a voucher for one of his restaurants. We ended up having dinner that night on Ed’s dime.