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Memories of Butter

Sage and Paul are walking downtown on a sunny day.

Paul Mama, what are shadows made of?

Sage Well, actually, they’re made of the absence of -

Paul No, no, I want to know what they are made of.

Sage Shadows are created when there is an absence of light -

Paul Mama! What! Are! Shadows! MADE! Of!

Sage, pulling Paul to the side of the sidewalk Paul. I can’t tell you the answer. Shadows are created when the light can’t get through something. That’s what they’re made of.

Paul Ohhhhh.

Sage has the fridge open. Todd is making food.

Sage Oh, hey, I found that margerine you were looking for before.

Todd Which margerine?

Sage It’s called…let’s see. “Memories of Butter”.

Todd Oh, that kind. Cool.

Sage That’s the worst name ever. You’re standing there in the grocery store and looking at this package and going, ‘Memories’ of butter? My low cholesterol diet is so depressing that now I have to eat MEMORIES of butter? Fuck this. Hey, stockboy, can you point me towards the Land O’Lakes, please?”

Todd, muttering I think they need to call these “Memories of Tortillas”.

Sage “Memories of Salsa”.

Todd “Memories of Mexican Food You Really Liked”.

The other day, Paul was having so much fun at the park that as the sun began to set I called Todd and asked him to stop by Lick’s (veggie burger fast food, where oddly they have to sing everything as they’re doing it, so you’re standing there waiting for your food and these college kids are like, “I’m pu-u-utting the tomato on the burrrrrger, la la la la la”) and bring it to the park for dinner.

After going the wrong way and having to backtrack, it was full on dark by the time he showed up, and we had a picnic right there, lit only by the streetlights. It was lovely. When we were finished eating, I wanted to stop by the street where they were filming The Cinderella Man. By the time we arrived, the filming was finished for the day, so we were able to walk right down the street and touch the set and everything. There were over thirty antique cars parked on the side of the road, and so many of the stores had been made over (my favorite: a diner that was really convincing until you looked inside and saw that it was a Chinese restaurant) that if it hadn’t been for the modern cars zooming by we might have actually felt we’d travelled back in time. (Though I was surprised that a movie with a budget as big as this one was bothering with the Toronto street instead of just building the set on a stage in Hollywood, and doing weird things like just covering over the window of the Chinese restaurant with paper - I mean, like I said, it was convincing, but…)

It was a winter scene, so there was cotton batting on the sidewalks masquerading as snow, which you might think would be a grade school play trick - but when we saw it from the streetcar, we thought it was real. There was a thirties trash can, filled with modern trash and an empty lot with a broken down truck and a couple of tents that I guess were supposed to belong to hobos.

And then there was a U.S. mailbox. I was watching a movie filmed in the States the other day, and I suddenly had a pang when I realized that in the same way that I will never be a true Canadian, I was the only one in the theatre who truly understood the basic nuances of the American references in the movie. I mean, I don’t ever want to step foot across the border again, but something about seeing that mailbox…I felt a little pang. Hell, I’m not completely without a heart.