You know Summer is over when ...

For many of us who live in countries with distinct seasons, the transition is felt both on a physical and an emotional level. In Canada, going from summer to fall is felt in myriad of ways. For some, the end of summer is marked by the start of the first day of school . For others, it’s the first fallen leaves. And if you’re like my friend Jackie, it’s the first sign of sweaters and boots on display at her favourite stores (her summer usually ends around mid-August!).

But for me, there is one deliberate act that undeniably signals the finality of summer: the closing of the pool. It happened this past weekend, punctuated by a visual representation that always makes me shudder. Nothing says summer is “finito” than watching a green tarp pulled over a beautiful azul pool.

What an opposite feeling I had this past spring. I was giddy with childlike anticipation when the pool boys arrived one warm May morning and unfurled the pool cover to expose the murky water that slept silently underneath all winter long. The water was green and cloudy, but it didn’t matter because I knew that in a few short days the salt water system would do its usual cleansing and soon I would be dipping my toes into our bath-like 86°F tub.

Our backyard is an extension of our family room. One side of our yard is marked by five-hole putting green complete with chipping areas, while the other side houses our oversized heated outdoor pool (see photo above). Oh, what fun we had this summer. I watched my little girl swim without water wings and watched her masterfuly touch the bottom of the pool and swim full lengths. This was an ego boost for her (and a relief for her parents!) to know that she can master a 10-foot-deep pool. We had numerous parties and late night swims with friends and, if we were feeling a little uninhibited, we even dove in sans bathing suits. But it was the mid-summer’s warm air when I would go into a hyptonic state as I watched the lamp light’s evening glow dance over the aqua.

But this weekend brought about a feeling of dread and sadness because I know the pool will hibernate for at least eight months before we splash in her again. The pool boys arrived at exactly 10:03 a.m. Saturday morning and, with the focused attention of surgeons, they went to work. I watched sadly as they removed the pool toys, stairs, diving board and floaties and then attached a huge hose to suck out some of the water. A backwash, a skimming and a vacuum and it was finally time to once again stretch the dark green cover over the open mouth of pool. As they fastened the last latch I winced and knew that I would not be treading water under a bright hot sun in our backyard until next year.

Later that night, during dinner, Gerry looked at me in that matter-of-fact way of his and said, “Honey, remind me tomorrow to order a cord of wood for the fireplace.”

Oy Vay, I thought. Summer really is over.

Which reminds me: Wherever did we put that darn snow shovel?

Building a Brand for Toronto

I can’t think of a tougher job right now than being the new CEO over at Toronto Tourism. David Whitaker has been on the job since April 30th and it’s his mandate to put Toronto back on the tourist map and to create a tangible brand for this city – something we’ve lacked for years. He hails from Miami where he turned around that city’s musty, sun-drenched image into a vibrant, hip, fashionista place to be. And it worked. I flew to South Beach two years ago just to have a drink at the chic Delano Hotel and take a stroll past Gianni Versace’s house, and it was certainly worth the trip!

So what is Mr. Whitaker going to do for Toronto? One thing’s for sure: I hope he slashes and burns that insipid “Toronto Unlimited” tagline from every piece of literature it’s on now. When they unleashed that puppy, after spending $4 million to come up with it in 2005, the city became a collective vomitorium. It meant nothing, said nothing, and was an embarrassment for the city.

Now, let me be very transparent about this fact: I love this city! I don’t think anyone loves Toronto as much as I do. I was born and raised here, with no plans of leaving. But for the life of me, I can’t understand why we are failing to lure tourists to this remarkable city. Okay, the rising dollar is indeed a factor, but the SARS scare is history. So why aren’t Americans coming to T.O. for all we have to offer?

We have swanky hotels, some of the best restaurants (please don’t close down Scaramouche), a nightlife with a distinct vibe, and some of the most amazing attractions (yes, the CN Tower is still very cool). We have a new opera house that rivals those on the world stage (credit to the late great Richard Bradshaw, whose funeral will be held tomorrow at 11 a.m. at Toronto's Anglican Cathedral Church of St. James) and more unique theatre productions popping up every year. And above all, this place is ultra clean and safe, safe, safe … did I say safe?

The only thing we have to fix in this city (no, not the potholes) is our “service” mentality. The one major complaint I have about this city is not with the physical beauty or the offerings: it’s the people. Those in the service business have to exude a service-like attitude all the time. Just travel to New York City where they take customer service to the highest degree. From the waiters to the concierge at any hotel, they treat every visitor with kid gloves. It’s the service in a city that keeps you coming back for more. You feel special, and who doesn’t want to feel that way?

Other than our snobbish service issues, Toronto has a lot to offer. But still we just can’t find the right lever to pull with that elusive American audience.

One thing’s for sure, I don’t envy Mr. Whitaker’s job. He’s got to reach out to the world, create a brand for our city, and keep a ton of people happy, including about 2.5 million Torontonians who are vocal ambassadors for this city.

Good luck, sir. I’ll be watching.