This is Ward’s Island, one of the Toronto Islands.  Last week I sat peacefully in this chair, eating my McDonald’s and contemplating the downtown.

I was on a mission.

Before I left Belgium, my friend Lopke asked me to shout her name to nature, to the universe, when I was in Canada.  (She pronounces her name “Lope’-kuh”.)  I agreed to do it.

I asked my friends Anne and Ihor if I could do the yelling in their living room.  They politely declined.  So the Island it was.

I girded my loins on the ferry ride for the big explosion of air.  Then, after eating, I wandered familiar parkland, eventually looking through the windows of the Island church, remembering classical music concerts that had wafted over me inside.

And now to the boardwalk, moseying towards Ward’s Island Beach, which I expected to be empty in mid-April.

I had texted Lopke that her name would fly out of me at 3:00 pm (9:00 pm her time).  But I didn’t know if she’d read it.

2:45 on the boardwalk, the cement seawall to my right, followed by a mass of wet rocks, an expanse of Lake Ontario … and way over there a peninsula of trees.  Definitely nature.

Looking way ahead, there was the beach, sprinkled with human beings.  Hmm … no privacy.

I had passed a few folks on the boardwalk.  Time was marching on.  An older couple sat on the bench ahead.  I walked up to them and shared my plan.  “I don’t want to scare you.”  They smiled.  We chatted … briefly, since the moment was approaching.

2:59.  The man pulled out his camera for a video op.  I walked to the seawall, gazing at the lapping waters of the ocean.  I was ready.  So was the universe.  This would be loud …

Lop-ke!