Although Toronto’s Royal Conservatory of Music has been around since 1886 many don’t recognize that it remains one of the respected and long standing independent music educator in North America. Although there are various music credentials one may obtain these days, no one debates the quality of education delivered by the RCM. If you’ve taken exams there, there’s no doubt that you know how to play (or sing), and most importantly, you’ve learned an even greater lesson—that there’s no substitute for discipline, focus and hard work when learning a something as complex as music.

The RCM may not seem such a big deal to Torontonians, but it attracts students from around the world because it is recognized for outstanding service to students, teachers, and parents, as well as its strict adherence to high academic standards. Through the years, it’s remained one of a few academic institutions that has consistently maintained its high standards; in fact, over the years, it has raised them.

An estimated 3 million plus Canadians have studied there—piano, voice, and instruments—and about 100,000 candidates have taken an annual exam with the RCM. Each year, it serves about half a million active participants across the country (that is, you don’t have to live in Toronto to study and take exams with the RCM).

Apart from its recent massive building restoration, the most perceptible change at the RCM in 2011 is its “customer” attitude. Today, those taking exams are greeted by extremely friendly and relaxed volunteers who make the students feel special for taking an exam instead a captive on their way to their execution. Okay, so I exaggerate a bit. But thank you to the wonderful volunteer this morning for making all of us feel good about being there. For this former RCM student, that difference is the most noticeable part of the renovation!

Next time you pass between Varsity Stadium and the ROM just west of Bloor Street, gaze up at the RCM’s red turrets and arches and think of the debt we owe to places like it that continue to teach, test, encourage, and reward musical achievement to the very highest degree.

As “established” street residents, John and I boast that we’ve participated each year for 20 years. That’s twenty June Saturdays where we’ve dragged valuable junk out of our basement and exchanged it for other valuable junk from our neighbours (that may actually be the same junk we sold them a year earlier).

There was the year when a lady down the street displayed her used designer clothes and a cat -fight (women, not cats) broke out on her front lawn. There’s the annual bun-warmer exchange (how many times can you re-sell an item among neighbours?) and the rocks I sold out of our front yard for $5 each (and they weren’t even for sale. One year when we weren’t paying attention, someone tried to buy our car.

The first few years were modest by today’s standards—a small block party that concluded with a baseball game at the local schoolyard and a barbecue in someone’s backyard. But there’s no stopping the technological advances of today’s garage sales. Now there’s a participation fee (not contact, as yet), part of the street is closed to traffic, and the day concludes with a street party, this year outfitted with a jumping castle, live band, an outdoor theatre to watch the Boston-Vancouver Stanley Cup final, and real live “street party” crashers.

All for the want of a simple garage sale, which despite it’s fancy wrapping, remains the only place you can still find albums (when they meant records), plastic flower pots (that were free in the first place) electric warming trays, unidentifiable kitchen gadgets (they were never able to be identified) and the occasional treasures that make the whole thing worthwhile.

So this year, when it was suggested we give it up, the entire street revolted.

“Give up the annual garage sale? Not a chance!”

So in the absolute pouring rain, and later shivering in actual winter coats at the barbecue, neighbours once again gathered and congratulated each other on another great event.

And the stuff I bought? It goes in the box in the basement marked for next year’s sale.

The green building movement has helped immensely. Retrofitting an old structure with thick brick walls and large windows that let in daylight and actually open now is proving (in most instances) to be less expensive and more environmentally friendly than tearing it down to build something shiny and new.

Some of these buildings we know well, e.g. those in the Distillery district, but dozens more are “hidden” to most of us unless we have a reason to venture inside their doors.

This week I attended an International Women’s Day event at 1135 Dundas Street East, a non-descript brick building built in 1939. It’s at the corner of Logan and Dundas in South Riverdale and to be fair, the building’s not attractive from the outside. But then, the area around it is also pretty bleak. And when you try to find the front door, you wonder why anyone created a solid brick wall right to the sidewalk. But as the story goes, the building actually continues on the north side of the street. When Dundas Street was widened in the 1940s, the good road makers at the time just cut the place in two and added a retaining wall with a door!

Step inside, however, and you wonder why we can’t all work in such an inviting environment. Originally home of the Canadian Starch Company, the structure still has its factory elements—high ceilings, wooden beams and floors, massive supporting posts and large windows with metal mullions. Now retrofitted for the 21^st century, it’s bright, airy, beautiful, fun, rich in contrasts of new and old. Shiny ductwork weaves about overhead and glass the walls on interior offices let in loads of natural light. There’s funky chandeliers, natural wood, bright colours and great open space for meeting and conversation.

It was all done by our host, X-Design, a Canadian company that happens to be an interior design firm. X-Design recently moved in and retrofitted the space to 100% sustainable standards, worthy of LEED certification (although have not chosen that route).  Founded and grown by two entrepreneurs (husband and wife team Greg and Susan Quinn), X-Design now boasts of clients around the world. Environmentally-aware design has become an essential client requirement for all their projects—you only need to visit 1135 Dundas to understand why.

Anyone who’s ever thought of demolishing an old building or has ideas about what kind of office space they might want to work in, should visit this kind of space. And Toronto is gradually filling up with such wonders.

We’re reminded, at least by our visitors to the city, of the strength of our music scene: take in roots music at Hughes Room, an opera at the Four Seasons, some  jazz at the Rex Hotel all in one weekend (one evening if you’re fast).  And that’s not even scratching the surface of variety, style and format. We have one of the finest music training facility in North America (the RCM), our Air Canada Centre is ranked 8 of the top 10 concert venues in the world, and we’re Canada’s recoding capital, and industry where we’re ranked high in the global marketplace—with sales well over $500 million each year.

So check out this past Saturday and put these words to the test. We begin the day early, at an old TDSB school at Dufferin and Bloor where a rather motely group of kids gather with various instruments to practice for the Toronto School Board’s All City Band. Each year, the TDSB invites students from ages 3-8 to audition for a choir, concert band, string ensemble and orchestra in order to perform at Massey Hall in the spring. The concert has been held every year, for 125 years, without exception—taking it through 2 world wars and a mind-boggling array of new music, composers and compositions.

The concert band warms up and after a couple of hours had pass the kids already were sounding like pros. A few hours later we attend the first of two Juno Awards ceremonies—the penultimate celebration of Canada’s music scene this year held in Toronto.  It’s their 40th Anniversary of the Juno Awards, first held at the small St. Lawrence Hall. The first half of the awards is a gala dinner that fills the AllStream Centre, the second (the broadcasted awards) packs an audience in the Air Canada Sunday the following night.

Among the countless “new” musicians that I don’t recognize I see some true heros of music in Canada. Neil Young, a Juno recipient this year and strong supporter for Canada’s music industry, is a Toronto boy (I remember his father “mumbling” to our neighbour about his son’s “band”, some 50 years ago now.)

Whether you’re the teacher volunteering to lead the band early on a Saturday morning or a first time Juno nominee watching your dream finally come to life, congratulations to all—for Toronto’s talent and diversity that continues to give us unending talent learned and heard, recorded, played, sold and sought after and just plain, enjoyed every day of every week.

The answer, of course, is yes, relatively speaking and once we swallow our pride and acknowledge that there are places people talk about around the world more important than our city.

It’s actually a major benefit of living in Toronto. We’re located about an hour from some of the best “other places’ to be in North America.

Take New York, for example. Last weekend, using the Billy Bishop Toronto City Airport, two of us left downtown Toronto at 5.00 PM and were drinking a toast to New York in Time Square by 9.30 PM, having already checked into our hotel, changed and ordered dinner. Being an hour flight away from one of the worlds largest, most interesting and culturally rich cities is a big bonus, one that more Torontonians could take advantage of.

Yes, it really is possible to fly to New York for a weekend, without jet lag or spending hours getting there. And best of all, Torontonians should feel at home in New York. In fact, we have our own “New York” moments right here in our own city.

• Mid-town at Yonge and St. Clair always feels a bit “New York” to me with its diverse combination of businesses and upscale residential.
• Toronto Street at King Street East has a New York feel, and if that doesn’t do it for you, step into the King Edward Hotel and you’ll get that Waldorf Astoria feeling.
• We don’t have Macy’s, Saks, Bloomingdales, Barneys, Lord & Taylor (sigh), but our downtown Bay store has New York grandeur fit for a Fifth Avenue store.
• The piano bar at the top of Tom Jones—definitely New York after dark if you don’t look out the window.

Tell me other examples and I’ll check them out when I can’t fly there for the weekend (which is mostly the case)!

The King Edward has always been one of my favourites because of its rare (for Toronto) Edwardian architecture. Most of our older buildings are Victorian, that is, overly ornate and rather scary-looking as they age. Edwardian style is much less fussy, with less clutter and lovely art nouveau influences.

When it opened in 1903, the hotel was lauded for many things, including being fireproof—a critical fact considering a year later the city’s second great fire destroyed most of lower Bay and Front Streets. The King Edward, however, made of stone and survived. It was designed by Chicago architect Henry Ives Cobb and prominent Toronto architect E.J. Lennox (who also designed the Old City hall and Casa Loma).

Named after Edward VII (Queen Victoria’s son), the King Eddy has hosted its share of sleeping royals including the Queen Mother and Prince Philip (not sure where the Queen was). For those recently caught up in The King’s Speech, King Edward VII was the grandfather of “Colin Firth” (George V1) —not to be confused with Edward the VIII who married Mrs. Simpson (who, by the way, also slept at the King Eddy at least once).

If those walls could talk —our “King Eddy” hotel has a celebrity guest list that boasts the rich, the famous, the royal and the controversial. It’s where John Lennon and Yoko staged one of their famous “bed-ins for peace”, and Richard Burton presented Elizabeth Taylor with her giant Krupp Diamond while a few protested outside because Liz was staying at the hotel with Richard Burton before they were married (just imagine that!). We peaked into the room where they stayed, today the dining room, so adored with filigree plaster that it looks like its covered in lace. Authors that may have found inspiration while inside its walls include Twain and Kipling. Guests still alive today include the Rolling Stones (I think all are still alive?) Catherine-Zeta-Jones, Celine Dion, and Beyonce Knowles, the list goes on….

So we were part of the guest list this week, savouring King Edward-blend tea with plates piled high with scones and treats. We were tourists in our own city for the afternoon, soaking up attention as doormen greeted us in the lobby as if we too were staying in its lovely quarters rather than returning home in within the hour!

King Edward Hotel Lobby

Torontonians run the risk of being like close family—we forget that our city is “all grown up” now. No more is this apparent than in the performing arts scene. Toronto is home to many of North America’s best companies, and most innovative worldwide. I was reminded of this while attending the Canadian Opera Company’s performance of The Magic Flute.

If you’ve never been to an opera, perhaps suffer from “fear of large singing divas” or being bored to death listening to songs in a foreign language, put those reservations aside. Opera is a grand, fun (yes, fun), and totally over-the-top experience for the senses. If you really want to give it the old college try, start with The Magic Flute.  Watch for it for it next time the COC presents it—according to General Director Alexander Neff, that will happen sooner than later.

The Magic Flute truly is an opera for everyone.

Last Friday night, all rings of the Four Seasons Centre were packed, with the average age about 35. Although always a bit reserved—as Toronto’s classical audiences tend to be—the excitement in the crowd was palpable.

Like me, I suspect it this was partly because The Magic Flute is simply not performed very often, actually only once before in the COC’s history. Musically, it is a challenge, particularly for the role of the Queen of the Night and her very high F. But that, of course, is part of the fun.

The performance was perfect—yes, perfect—no smug reviewer-talk here. And without getting into an opera lecture, here’s what you have to remember about The Magic Flute. A success from its premier in 1791, Mozart created the work to be both unapologetically absurd and unbelievably profound. Yes, it is a very silly story about silly characters and a confusing awkward plot AND yes, it presents audiences with the most perfect and most beautiful music few human beings have been able to produce before or since.

Founded in 1950, the COC is only slightly older than me, i.e. not that old. What started one year as little festival in Toronto has become Canada’s largest opera company, a major and prestigious force in North American classical music, and a training ground for professional singers around the world. It’s musicians and artists continue to be integral to the cultural life of Toronto and Canada.

In this city, we no longer have to fantasize about seeing opera in a great hall of Vienna or Milan (although that is always a good thing too). We have it right here in our own hometown, Toronto.

And to that I say, ‘Bravo!’

About 20  minutes later I stumbled downstairs and at my kitchen table there was a young girl busy scrolling through her iPhone. Our campaign had begun in earnest at the beginning of September. Having gone through a few elections, I was almost used to strangers being in my house during election times at odd hours of the day and night. But still, it struck me a bit odd that a) I didn’t recognized the woman sitting here in the dark and, b) she didn’t seemed to be at all alarmed that she was there.

Part of a political spouse’s role is to greet volunteers and make everyone feel welcome. It’s not a difficult task considering these wonderful people appear in all kinds of weather and political conditions with the sole purpose of helping my husband retain his job. And it’s not unusual that I wouldn’t know everyone. Some are friends and neighbours but many are people connected in some way to my husband’s life.  So I warmly said, “Hello”, and offered the girl some tea.

No, she didn’t need any tea, but thanked my profusely, then went back to work on her iPhone.

Half way back upstairs I did a double take, and turned back.

“Are you waiting for someone?” I ventured.

“Yes,” she replied. “I’m canvassing this afternoon so I was told to meet the others here at 3.”

I checked my watch and it was closing in on 4 o’clock. There were no “others”.

“Here?” I replied, then more cautiously, “Or, perhaps at our campaign office?”

“OMG!” she exclaimed, “You have a campaign office?”

I swear she turned white on the spot. Details get missed during campaigns—it’s part of the frustration and also part of the charm. In this case, no one had told the poor girl that we actually now had an office that wasn’t my kitchen (plus living room plus dining room).  She jumped to her feet and began an immediate scramble to gather her things and hightail it out of my house. I stopped her, of course, in time to put her tea in a thermos and get my keys so I can drive her to our office.

On election night at our victory party I recognized her once again. This time she was smiling and laughing, the iPhone aside and surrounded by her friends. I walked over and gave her a  big hug. We said nothing of her brief stay in my kitchen but she gave me an extra wink as I walked away and commented, “You are the most trusting person I’ve ever met,” she said, “And thank you for the tea!”

“Given her experience in dealings with the business world, and her role as the immediate Past President of the CAWEE, we would be pleased to have Ms. Beth Parker attend our seminar as a speaker, on behalf of the Association,” wrote the Senior Trade Commission on issuing the invitation.

Beth will speak on the role of CAWEE and its impact on women and leadership as well as her own experience as a woman in business.

On issuing the invitation, Senior Trade Commission Frederic Fournier wrote:

“The trade section of the High Commission of Canada in Port-of-Spain, Trinidad and Tobago is presenting this Corporate Governance seminar through a different angle: the growing role of women. The question is becoming more and more crucial in the region and in T&T, especially after the recent election of the first female Prime Minister, Ms. Kamla Persad-Bissessar. Trinidad and Tobago being a leader for economic and social development in the Caribbean, the growing role of women in governance (both in public and private sectors) is a question of global interest.

“In researching probable speakers for this event, the High Commission felt that sharing CAWEE’s experience in building the professional woman would be an ideal fit for its program.” CAWEE is Canada’s longest-standing business networking groups.Formed in 1976, CAWEE’s mission is to provide networking opportunities for women that advance their professional lives.

The event, to be held Tuesday November 2, 2010 in Port-of-Spain, is likely to attract a lot of media attention locally, which will be beneficial for the mission and for Canada’s image in the country and the entire Caribbean region.

It starts with the premise that order is good and clutter is bad; and clutter that leads to losing track of stuff is serious, not funny. So we watch television shows about how to throw things out, we scramble off to Canadian Tire to acquire attractive storage bins, and we develop categories of value so we can quickly determine what to toss, recycle, or (as a last resort) store.

The truth isstuff comes into your home, often uninvited and in many cases not because of your own indulgence. When I take a careful look around my home Im surprised at how much came from somewhere else. Truckloads, for example, arrive from school. Like mud stuck to our childrens shoes, were inundated with notices, projects, even returned lunchbox scraps. Some items, excluding the lunchbox scraps, we stick on the fridge or attempt to keep. With child number one, we carefully placed art projects in a file destined for a shiny new basement bin. After child number five, we cut out the middle step and surreptitiously placed most of the paperwork in a recycling bin.

We passed through an organization stage a few years back when we purchased bins, wall units, and storage systems. We mistakenly thought this would contain the multiplying hoards of toys and memorabilia. It didnt. Then we tried garage sales. Every household on our block put their stuff on the front lawn and exchanged it for other stuffusually the same items recycling back. My electric bun warmer returned to me three times before I hid it in the garbage.

The list of what has gone missing each year is endless, the fault of mass confusion combined with creeping forgetfulness. One year we accidentally removed one son from his special education program because I forgot to return the form. Another child was suspended from school because we didnt sign a vaccination document. Weve managed to keep a receipt for everything weve ever bought except, of course, the items that broke or were the wrong size. I accidentally threw my new cell phone in a lake one warm July morning because it was tucked in my pants pocket. I did manage to revive it, only to drive over it several months later (it didnt survive that time). A year before, I lost my office phone, a clunky cordless phone that I somehow misplaced in the washing machine.

Even as children grow older, the stuff doesnt diminished. We continued to store our lives in our basements, our attics and our closetsironically in those same places that still store some of our own parents stuff; items our moms, dads, even grandparents couldnt bear to part with.

Im beginning to finally realize that a well-cluttered life means a life filled with people, and the stuff that seems, inevitably, to gather about them. Our stuff is actually part of who we are human dandruff we produce, whether we like it or not. Sure we can shed some of it as we move along, but for the most part, it belongs with us because it is part of our lives, past, present and future. It reminds me of when refugees flee their homelands they often carry a small item with them to remember what they left behind. And busy CEO executives are encouraged to pack a few items from home in order to settle better in their hotel rooms at days end.

My messy conclusion is that we all live in chaos and for the most part, we should fee proud of a home that shows signs of a struggle. There are consultants who make a living helping people organize their homes. But every day Ill remind myself that uncontrolled clutter mixed with a certain degree of confusion represents the richness of my life, not the struggle. The real gift is to know how to live with and enjoy that reality, not eliminate it altogether.

Beth Parker
Professional Writerwww.bethparker.com

President, CAWEE
Canadian Association of Women Executives & Entrepreneurs

June 2008-June 2010