
The throng, horde, torrent, stream, the pure rush and gush of humanity, coursing like lifeblood through Union Station, cannot help but impress, even surprise, and carries for me a message of hope. I arrived at 8 a.m. in a taxi with my sister and niece, to put them on a train. A bit bleary, I went to search for a coffee. The station wasn’t busy—it was mobbed.
The workers, the students, the bureaucrats, and even the downtrodden of our nation’s metropolis are on their feet—in running shoes, leather dress shoes, clogs, loafers, fuzzy boots, thick-soled sneakers, pull on boots, carrying backpacks and briefcases and grocery bags; many with earbuds, all walking with firm resolve from the train station into the maw of 10 matching doors with signs above that say TTC/Front St.