`Invest­ing in air con­di­tion­ing saves lives’

Study shows value of equip­ment in pro­tect­ing the vul­ner­able, includ­ing those in nurs­ing homes

This article was written by Kate Allen and was published in the Toronto Star on December 16, 2025.

Ontario’s decision to man­date air con­di­tion­ing in all nurs­ing home res­id­ents’ room saved dozens of lives, new research estim­ates — and could have saved more than 130 more had the require­ment come a dec­ade earlier.

The study shows how air con­di­tion­ing has become “life­sav­ing med­ical equip­ment,” experts say, and is rel­ev­ant well bey­ond nurs­ing homes as provinces, cit­ies and towns grapple with how to pro­tect vul­ner­able res­id­ents as heat waves intensify in the cli­mate crisis.

“Air con­di­tion­ing really is no longer a lux­ury for nurs­ing home res­id­ents, but a life­sav­ing tool,” said Gab­ri­elle Katz, a med­ical stu­dent at the Uni­versity of Toronto’s Temerty Fac­ulty of Medi­cine and an author of the study, which was pub­lished online Monday in JAMA Internal Medi­cine.

Res­id­ents of nurs­ing homes are par­tic­u­larly vul­ner­able to heat because they are more likely to have chronic dis­eases, cog­nit­ive impair­ments, lim­ited mobil­ity and other health issues.

But they also bene­fit from liv­ing in facil­it­ies that are staffed by health care pro­fes­sion­als and reg­u­lated by the gov­ern­ment — unlike older adults liv­ing in the com­munity, said Dr. Nathan Stall, a clini­cian sci­ent­ist and geri­at­rics lead at Sinai Health, and another of the study’s authors. In the U.S., older adults make up 39 per cent of all heat­related deaths.

“When you think about all the people who are liv­ing in build­ings or older homes that don’t have access to air con­di­tion­ing — it’s something that wor­ries me,” said Stall.

Stall cited a City of Toronto pilot pro­gram that dis­trib­uted roughly 500 air con­di­tion­ers to low­income seni­ors last sum­mer, and another in Port­land, Ore., that has installed more than 15,000.

The study is “con­crete evid­ence that shows that invest­ing in air con­di­tion­ing saves lives,” he said.

The research­ers looked at more than 73,000 deaths of people liv­ing in licensed Ontario nurs­ing homes, all of which occurred dur­ing warm months between 2010 and 2023. They examined whether those deaths happened on or soon after an extremely hot day, and whether or not the res­id­ence of the per­son who died had air con­di­tion­ing.

Before 2020, more than half of the province’s nurs­ing homes lacked air con­di­tion­ing in res­id­ents’ rooms. In July of that year — amid a blis­ter­ing heat wave, the COVID­19 pan­demic and pres­sure from advoc­ates — Premier Doug Ford’s Pro­gress­ive Con­ser­vat­ive gov­ern­ment announced that all nurs­ing homes would be required to cool res­id­ents’ rooms, and gave the facil­it­ies two years to com­ply.

That turned out to be a “tre­mend­ous suc­cess in pub­lic policy,” Stall said.

Res­id­ents in nurs­ing homes without air con­di­tion­ing had eight per cent higher odds of dying on extremely hot days com­pared to those who did have it, the study found.

The research­ers sim­u­lated what mor­tal­ity in nurs­ing homes would have looked like had Ontario never imple­men­ted the rule, and estim­ated that the air con­di­tion­ing man­date aver­ted 33 deaths that would have occurred on extreme heat days between 2021 and 2023.

They also sim­u­lated what mor­tal­ity would have looked like had the rule been rolled out in 2010 — and estim­ated there would have been 131 fewer deaths than actu­ally occurred.

Five years after Ontario announced the require­ment for nurs­ing homes, it remains the only province in Canada with such a rule, accord­ing to the study.

“That really calls into ques­tion the safety of other Cana­dian nurs­ing homes,” Katz said.

“I think our res­ults also raise con­cerns for other vul­ner­able pop­u­la­tions across Canada who don’t have access to air con­di­tion­ing,” Katz added, not­ing that renters and those liv­ing on low incomes or in older homes are more likely to lack cool­ing in their homes.

Dr. Sam­antha Green, fam­ily phys­i­cian at Unity Health Toronto who was not involved in the study, said the research was “incred­ible” at show­ing how effect­ive air con­di­tion­ing is as a health tool.

The num­ber of lives it saved, accord­ing to the data in the paper, is “on par with a lot of med­ical inter­ven­tions,” mak­ing it clear that air con­di­tion­ing is itself “life­sav­ing med­ical equip­ment,” Green said.

Research­ers found that res­id­ents in nurs­ing homes without air con­di­tion­ing had eight per cent higher odds of dying on extremely hot days com­pared to those who did have it

Cana­dians are focused on just meet­ing their most basic needs

This opinion was written by David Coletto, Oksana Kishchuk, and Eddie Sheppard, and was published by the Toronto Star on October 26, 2025.

If you want to under­stand Canada in 2025, don’t look up, look down. Before focus­ing on ideals like pur­pose, self­expres­sion or “liv­ing your best life,” most Cana­dians are doing something much more basic: try­ing to make ends meet and keep their fam­il­ies steady.

For the past year at Aba­cus Data, we’ve described a national mood that moved from scarcity (“Is there enough?”) to pre­car­ity (“Will we be OK?”).

Pre­car­ity is that uneasy feel­ing that even if you can pay the bills this month, you’re not sure you’ll be able to next month. It shrinks time hori­zons and makes prudence feel like a sur­vival skill. In our latest national sur­vey of 4,501 adults (Oct. 915), we tested where people’s atten­tion really sits. Bor­row­ing from Maslow’s hier­archy of needs, we asked which of five goals best describes what they’re most focused on right now: meet­ing basic needs (food, hous­ing, daily essen­tials); keep­ing the fam­ily safe, healthy and fin­an­cially stable; strength­en­ing rela­tion­ships; feel­ing respec­ted and con­fid­ent; or grow­ing and liv­ing a mean­ing­ful, joy­ful life.

The answers are blunt. Twenty­seven per cent chose basic needs as their top focus. Another thirty­eight per cent named safety, health and fin­an­cial sta­bil­ity. Add those together and two in three Cana­dians are con­cen­trat­ing on the two low­est rungs of Maslow’s lad­der. Belong­ing (eight per cent), esteem (nine per cent) and self­actu­al­iz­a­tion (18 per cent) are still in the mix, but they’re not where most people’s heads are.

This is exactly what pre­car­ity looks like. When life feels unstable, atten­tion nar­rows to focus on sta­bil­ity. People don’t stop want­ing mean­ing or con­nec­tion; but they are just try­ing to get or stay on life’s first base. It’s a reminder that we’re liv­ing in a coun­try more focused on endur­ance than ambi­tion and that has big implic­a­tions for busi­ness, polit­ics, and com­munity life.

In prac­tical terms, pre­car­ity means a young pro­fes­sional delays buy­ing a condo because her job is “temp until fur­ther notice,” or a uni­on­ized worker votes against a tent­at­ive agree­ment that offers a 30 per cent raise because there aren’t suf­fi­cient pro­tec­tions against wor­ries his job might be auto­mated in a few years.

For a retiree, it might mean skip­ping a winter trip or put­ting off a home repair because a fixed income no longer stretches as far as it used to, or the value of their home, which they spent a life­time pay­ing off, will sink in value and the next gro­cery or util­ity hike could upset a care­fully bal­anced budget.

The deeper story isn’t in the num­bers, though; it’s in how life stage shapes per­spect­ive. Younger Cana­dians tend to look up the lad­der, think­ing about growth, learn­ing and pur­pose — but are quickly pushed down when real­ity hits. As people age, atten­tion shifts down­ward.

The push and pull of mort­gages, kids and aging par­ents keep mid­life Cana­dians focused on secur­ity, and by retire­ment, safety clearly dom­in­ates.

For many baby boomers, espe­cially those 60 and over, the focus is less on chas­ing new goals and more on pro­tect­ing their health, sav­ings and a sense of sta­bil­ity. Even with rel­at­ive fin­an­cial com­fort, many feel the fra­gil­ity of fixed incomes and rising costs.

Gender doesn’t change the story much: men and women alike are mostly pre­oc­cu­pied with keep­ing life steady. No mat­ter who you are, the instinct right now is to hold the ground you’ve got.

Income and edu­ca­tion still define how high up the lad­der people can look, but what stands out now is the emo­tional dis­tance between those rungs. Unsur­pris­ingly, for lower­income Cana­dians, life feels close to the edge. Among higher earners, there’s more room to think about growth, learn­ing and con­fid­ence. Edu­ca­tion mir­rors that divide: those with a uni­versity degree are less pre­oc­cu­pied with sur­vival and more inves­ted in pro­gress and pur­pose. These con­trasts aren’t sur­pris­ing, but they remind us that optim­ism often depends on sta­bil­ity — and that a mes­sage about hope or ambi­tion can sound inspir­ing to some and tone­deaf to oth­ers.

Mind­set plays a role too. People who believe the coun­try is head­ing in the right dir­ec­tion are more focused on con­nec­tion, belong­ing and con­fid­ence. Those who think we’re on the wrong track are look­ing down, focused on the essen­tials. It’s a telling pat­tern. In an age of pre­car­ity, even con­fid­ence has become a scarce resource.

Iden­tity and back­ground still shape how Cana­dians see their place on the lad­der. Many new­comers and racial­ized Cana­dians, des­pite facing bar­ri­ers, are more likely to talk about growth and belong­ing than just get­ting by. Some of that reflects age and geo­graphy — they’re younger, more urban and often chas­ing oppor­tun­ity rather than defend­ing it — but it also hints at optim­ism. The idea of Canada as a place to build and become something bet­ter still res­on­ates, even as oth­ers worry the sys­tem is slip­ping. Where many long­time res­id­ents feel anxious about los­ing ground, new­comers are often focused on gain­ing it.

Polit­ics, too, reveals where people’s atten­tion rests. Con­ser­vat­ives and Lib­er­als tend to cluster around safety: steady jobs, stable fam­il­ies, pre­dict­able futures. New Demo­crats and Greens, whose sup­port­ers are younger and more likely to rent, lean toward the basics: afford­ab­il­ity, hous­ing and day­today sur­vival. Each party is, in its own way, speak­ing to a dif­fer­ent rung of the national hier­archy, one reason polit­ical debate often feels like par­al­lel con­ver­sa­tions about entirely dif­fer­ent needs.

A few caveats keep us hon­est. First, this shows what’s most on people’s minds right now — it doesn’t neces­sar­ily mean they’re strug­gling or going without. Choos­ing “safety” doesn’t mean your fam­ily is unsafe; it means that, right now, safety is what you’re think­ing about. A house­hold in the top bracket can still feel pre­cari­ous and plan defens­ively.

Second, our Maslow map­ping is a lens, not a law. Human motiv­a­tion is messier than a tidy pyr­amid. People chase mean­ing while jug­gling bills and nur­ture rela­tion­ships while updat­ing resumés.

Finally, per­cep­tion is its own real­ity when it comes to beha­viour. Whether the wobble is fin­an­cial, social or emo­tional, feel­ing pre­cari­ous changes how people work, shop, vote and plan.

So, what should lead­ers draw from this?

If you man­age people, earn the right to talk about pur­pose by deliv­er­ing solid ground first: pay that keeps up, pre­dict­able sched­ules, bene­fits that cover the gaps, espe­cially health and men­tal health, and man­agers who respect people’s time.

If you sell to ser­vices or things, design for value and pre­dict­ab­il­ity; com­munity and status will mat­ter again, but right now products that reduce risk and remove fric­tion win.

If you’re seek­ing office, build a coali­tion around secur­ity that enables aspir­a­tion: steady hous­ing sup­ply, work­ing health care, depend­able infra­struc­ture and relief from price whip­lash paired with a cred­ible path up the lad­der through skills, innov­a­tion and cli­mate action.

In the end, this isn’t a story about a coun­try that has given up on mean­ing; it’s a coun­try that has learned to keep one hand on the guard­rail.

The hier­archy hasn’t dis­ap­peared. People still want con­nec­tion, respect and growth, but the order of oper­a­tions has changed. And here’s the uncom­fort­able truth: pre­car­ity and uncer­tainty may be our default for the fore­see­able future.

Maybe we adapt and get bet­ter at decid­ing under con­stant uncer­tainty.

Maybe we grow numb to the wobble and lower our expect­a­tions. We don’t know.

What we do know, as poll­sters who ask thou­sands of Cana­dians hun­dreds of ques­tions every week is this: mind­set is already reshap­ing pri­or­it­ies like how people work, what they buy and the policies they’ll accept.

Lead­ers who take that ser­i­ously, who reduce volat­il­ity where they can, reas­sure anxious minds and hearts, and speak hon­estly about the risks where they can’t, will earn trust. Until the ground feels steady again, the smartest prom­ise isn’t a moon shot. It’s the steady hand that makes tomor­row feel pos­sible.

When our desires des­troy lives else­where

This opinion was written by Shellene Drakestull and was published in the Toronto Star on October 22, 2025.

Over the week­end, I was dig­ging my fall decor out of my stor­age room. While doing that, I lugged out bins of Christ­mas dec­or­a­tions of all shapes and sizes. My 10 ­year ­old daugh­ter traipsed down­stairs and saw what I was doing.

“Mommy, can we get new dec­or­a­tions this year?” she asked, look­ing at the bins sur­round­ing me.

Each year she tries to con­vince me that we need more bells and baubles. This year she’s been cam­paign­ing for an inflat­able Santa for our front lawn because our cur­rent set up looks “tra­gic.”

Christ­mas comes but once a year, so is it neces­sary to buy new dec­or­a­tions when we already have a stor­age room full?

I can’t blame her for try­ing. Con­sump­tion, in gen­eral, is get­ting out of hand and all of us are to blame. While there are some people who are extremely con­ser­vat­ive when it comes to spend­ing, many of us do go over­board. From boxes upon boxes of hol­i­day decor to people own­ing tens of Stan­ley tum­blers or hun­dreds of dol­lars’ worth of beauty products, why do we feel it neces­sary to con­sume so much?

We often don’t think about the impacts our over­con­sump­tion has on our cli­mate or the people we share the planet with. I’m just as guilty because I’m selfish and some­times think more about what I want rather than how my spend­ing can neg­at­ively affect the world I live in.

For instance, my trusty cell­phone. I don’t go any­where without it. If I leave it at home, I’m lost — how will my fam­ily get in touch with me? How will I know where I’m sup­posed to be? How will I read my book or play some time­wast­ing game while I wait at physio­ther­apy?

This past sum­mer, my phone con­tract was up after two years. I had the option to buy out my old phone (that worked per­fectly fine) at a couple of hun­dred bucks or get a new phone for $0.

Guess what I chose?

At that point, I didn’t real­ize that my con­sump­tion — buy­ing something that I didn’t truly need — was impact­ing people in the Demo­cratic Repub­lic of Congo (DRC). Coltan, a rare min­eral that is needed for our cell­phones, is mined in the DRC, where a war is cur­rently raging and more than 6.9 mil­lion people have been dis­placed. Chil­dren the age of my daugh­ter are forced into dan­ger­ous mines to extract the min­eral.

The sale of coltan to west­ern tech com­pan­ies is fund­ing M23, a Rwandan­backed rebel para­mil­it­ary group. Accord­ing to Amnesty Inter­na­tional and the United Nations, M23 has raided hos­pit­als, com­mit­ted sexual viol­ence includ­ing gang rapes and killed inno­cent civil­ians.

We don’t hear a lot about how our desires can des­troy lives else­where. We buy fast fash­ion (I’m guilty, too) and ration­al­ize the suf­fer­ing of those who make our trendy clothes because we want what we want. The David Suzuki Found­a­tion found that glob­ally, “people con­sume 80 bil­lon new pieces of cloth­ing every year — a 400 per cent increase from 20 years ago.” The fast fash­ion industry is the second largest water con­sumer after agri­cul­ture.

The planet is strug­gling under the weight of our wants. We’ve been con­di­tioned to think that we need more — and we need it now.

My 13 ­year­ old daugh­ter recently got into thrift­ing. I love to see the joy she gets from rifling through the racks and racks of preloved items. While I appre­ci­ate her find­ing ways to sus­tain­ably shop, the over­con­sump­tion of second­hand clothes needs to be con­trolled. Weekly or monthly cloth­ing hauls aren’t nor­mal. We can only wear so many pieces of cloth­ing.

What’s nor­mal is con­sum­ing what we need and no more. Because our over­con­sump­tion is waste­ful and it’s hurt­ing all of us — from our neigh­bours, who are over­heat­ing in Octo­ber, to the people we’ve never met in Africa and Asia.

We all need to do bet­ter because some­times enough really is enough.

Coltan, a rare min­eral needed for the pro­duc­tion of cell­phones, is mined in the Demo­cratic Repub­lic of Congo, where a war is cur­rently raging and more than 6.9 mil­lion people have been dis­placed.

DRIVING CHANGE

When con­sid­er­ing whether to join the car­free move­ment, it’s not just a money decision — it’s also a mind­set decision

Tim Millan, who went carfree 18 months ago, acknowledges that not having a vehicle is easier for him now that his kids are in their 20s. “Our kids were in sports and different activities all over the city,” he says. “It would have been very challenging to try to get around (without a car).”

This article was written by Lora Grady and was published in the Toronto Star on September 29, 2025.

For nearly 30 years, Tim Mil­lan got around Toronto by car. He loved the con­veni­ence of own­ing a vehicle, but his “soul­suck­ing” com­mute was the final straw — 18 months ago he gave up his beloved Toyota 4Run­ner to go car­free. Now, the 54­year­old teacher estim­ates he’s sav­ing around $500 a month by not own­ing a vehicle — and he has zero regrets.

Own­ing a car is a huge expense for Cana­dian house­holds. Accord­ing to a 2025 report from Rate­hub, the aver­age cost of own­ing a car is $1,370 per month (includ­ing car pay­ments, gas, park­ing, insur­ance and main­ten­ance). A recent report from car­shar­ing mar­ket­place Turo found that car own­er­ship costs have risen nine per cent since last year, and experts pre­dict that num­ber will con­tinue to grow. The Turo report also found that 42 per cent of Cana­dians have had to cut back on spend­ing in other areas to keep up with the costs of own­ing their vehicle.

When con­sid­er­ing whether to join the car­free move­ment, it’s not just a simple money decision, says Credit Canada CEO Bruce Sellery — it’s also a mind­set decision.

Con­sider your cir­cum­stances

The first thing to con­sider is your val­ues, Sellery says.

“Some people love cars and they love to drive. Other people simply do not care.”

The next thing to con­sider is your cir­cum­stances. “I have to have a car because my kid has activ­it­ies and not hav­ing a car would be too much for me, per­son­ally, as a par­ent,” he says.

Mil­lan acknow­ledges that going car­free is easier for him now that his kids are in their 20s. “Our kids were in sports and dif­fer­ent activ­it­ies all over the city,” he says. “It would have been very chal­len­ging to try to get around (without a car).”

Another con­sid­er­a­tion is your daily com­mute. “It’s all well and good to say you’re going to go car­free when your com­mute is 15 minutes by bike,” Sellery says. A two­hour com­mute that involves numer­ous transit changes is very dif­fer­ent.

For Mil­lan, being able to go car­free meant find­ing a job closer to home. “I was work­ing in a part of the city that was very dif­fi­cult to get to by transit, and it was just a little bit too far to cycle or walk,” he says. He now walks to work, which takes around 20 minutes each way — and costs noth­ing.

Next con­sider how hav­ing a car impacts your men­tal well­being. “Some people feel bet­ter hav­ing a car,” Sellery says. “It gives them a feel­ing of free­dom, and that’s not noth­ing — that counts.” Other people feel stressed about own­ing a car and the asso­ci­ated costs.

Finally, Sellery says, you should be hon­est about your needs versus your wants. “You really need trans­port­a­tion, for sure, but do you really need a car?”

Matt Hands, Rate­hub’s vice­pres­id­ent of insur­ance, says going car­free works best for people with remote or flex­ible work arrange­ments who don’t have to deal with reg­u­lar sub­urban com­mutes, and house­holds without fre­quent fam­ily oblig­a­tions that require car travel out­side the city.

Blair Ken­neth Adam­ache, a 61year­old investor and Toronto res­id­ent, gave up his car less than a month ago. For years, he com­muted to Markham from Pick­er­ing by car. In the early ’90s, he star­ted bik­ing to work three to four times a week. He and his wife had young kids and only one car, so she would use it on the days he cycled.

For the past 15 years, Adam­ache drove a used Ger­man sports car — and it got expens­ive. He was spend­ing $100 a month on park­ing where he now lives, near Yonge and Eglin­ton, plus gas, insur­ance and main­ten­ance. “When you own a 20year­old sports car, you’re always ask­ing what’s going to break next,” he says.

At the begin­ning of Septem­ber, Adam­ache decided to ditch his car and go car­free for six months to see how it goes.

Do a cost­bene­fit ana­lysis

On the math side, it’s import­ant to do a cost­bene­fit cal­cu­la­tion, Sellery says. Gather facts around your car expenses, includ­ing the car pay­ment, insur­ance, main­ten­ance, park­ing and gas. Rate­hub’s report found that Cana­dians spend an aver­age of $203 per month on gas, $200 on park­ing, $143 on car insur­ance and $79 on vehicle main­ten­ance, while around $202 per month goes toward interest on car pay­ments.

Most fin­an­cial experts recom­mend keep­ing trans­port­a­tion costs between 15 and 20 per cent of your take­home pay, says Hands.

Next, take some time to think about how you use the car and how often you use it. “Maybe you work from home, but your par­ents live north of the city and you want to go see them once a month and it’s sure help­ful to have a car,” Sellery says.

People’s needs, time, con­veni­ence and fin­ances all play into how people get around, says Teresa Di Felice, assist­ant vice­pres­id­ent of gov­ern­ment and com­munity rela­tions for CAA South Cent­ral Ontario. “If you’re driv­ing your child to hockey and you’ve got all the equip­ment, it can be a little dif­fi­cult to do that on something like transit,” she says. Think about how your needs can be best served on a reg­u­lar basis, and explore how you can save money by still own­ing a car while using altern­at­ives for some of your trips.

It’s also import­ant to con­sider whether you own a paid­off vehicle and are avoid­ing new­car depre­ci­ation. “If you can off­set costs through ride­shar­ing or deliv­ery work, or if mov­ing and selling costs out­weigh short­term sav­ings, keep­ing your car is smarter,” Hands says. Ulti­mately, he adds, the decision hinges on whether your trans­port­a­tion needs jus­tify the $1,370 aver­age monthly own­er­ship cost versus transit and ride­shar­ing options.

Once you’ve looked at your expenses and use, you can con­sider the altern­at­ive options, includ­ing cyc­ling, ride shar­ing, car shar­ing, car rental and the TTC. Sellery says to get cre­at­ive with your think­ing: Could you share a car with a sib­ling or a best friend? Can you car­pool?

The TTC charges $156 for an adult monthly pass. Bike Share Toronto charges $105 plus HST for an annual pass that includes unlim­ited 30­minute rides. Then there are car­shar­ing ser­vices like Com­mun­auto, which offers free monthly mem­ber­ship plans and charges from $13 per hour for a car rental.

If you’re think­ing about going car­free, it’s a good idea to tally up exactly how much you spent on owing a car in the past year (includ­ing main­ten­ance and repair costs) to see how much you could poten­tially save and rein­vest else­where to pay off debts, con­trib­ute to an RRSP or reach other fin­an­cial goals.

Con­sider dif­fer­ent trans­port­a­tion options

Mil­lan has ren­ted a car twice; once for a work retreat in Oril­lia and another time for a trip to Que­bec. He occa­sion­ally takes the street­car if it’s rain­ing or snow­ing and uses his Presto pass to pay by trip. Oth­er­wise, he walks or cycles to his des­tin­a­tions. He has an annual Bike Share Toronto mem­ber­ship and uses it to visit friends in the west end. He also uses it some­times when he’s run­ning late. “I can grab a bike and just shave 10 minutes off of my walk,” he says.

Main­ten­ance and fuel are prob­ably the biggest costs asso­ci­ated with own­ing a car, Di Felice says, adding that keep­ing your car in good shape helps keep costs low. Remove sports equip­ment, shoes and other items from the trunk and back seat when you don’t need them to reduce drag on your car, which will help you burn less gas. You should also remove bike racks or cargo racks from your vehicle’s roof when you’re not going to need them. Ensur­ing your tires are prop­erly inflated can help increase fuel effi­ciency, too.

Hands says it’s worth shop­ping around annu­ally for car insur­ance, as rates vary widely between pro­viders. You can also lower premi­ums by increas­ing your deduct­ibles, choos­ing vehicles with high safety rat­ings and low theft risk, and bund­ling your auto policy with home or ten­ant insur­ance for added dis­counts.

You can also save on gas through some credit card and loy­alty rewards pro­grams, Di Felice says. “Some­times people don’t even know all the loy­alty pro­grams that they’re car­ry­ing around in their wal­let, whether it’s CAA or other cards,” she says, adding that CAA mem­bers can save three cents per litre on gas at Shell.

Since giv­ing up his car, Adam­ache racks up 5,000 to 10,000 steps a day just run­ning errands. He mostly rides his bike to get around and uses the TTC dur­ing bad weather. He’s used Uber once so far, adding, “I’ve got $200 a month I could use on Uber and not feel guilty.”

He has fam­ily mem­bers who live in Pick­er­ing, and says pub­lic transit to Durham is a night­mare, so he’ll see how things work out over the next six months. He also recently did a Cana­dian Tire trip using the TTC to buy drapes and char­coal and some other “crazy heavy stuff” and thought, “That’s kind of over the edge of what I can do.” He says he could always rent a car, and that his best friend owns a pickup truck.

If Adam­ache does decide to buy a car again, he says, it would be a Toyota Corolla this time instead of a sports car.

For now, he says, being without a car feels like a big relief — and it’s helped him get ahead in other areas. “I said to myself, `I got rid of that car. I should do my taxes now!’ ”

A mod­est pro­posal to beat the heat

This article was written by Anakana Schofield and was published in the Toronto Star on August 13, 2025.

It is a mel­an­choly object and mighty affront for those who must suf­fer the suf­foc­a­tion of a heat wave, which cur­rently is most people in Canada and increas­ingly every single per­son on planet Earth.

I think it is agreed that, like our long­suf­fer­ing friends the lob­sters, we are all going to boil together but the ques­tion is: How can we com­fort each other inside life’s bub­bling pan?

Once there might have exis­ted those who come to life in the heat, those who rejoice at the mere sight of the sun and those, like me, who man­age to get heat­stroke and second­degree sun­burns while stay­ing inside, with the cur­tains closed and the lights turned off. Yet when polling the plain people of the inter­net this week, I found no one who likes heat­waves.

Dur­ing a recent stretch in Van­couver, I called my local, heat expert bestie Mome Gul, who was born in Pakistan, raised in Saudi Ara­bia — she was cook­ing! On a hot stove! “I love it. I come to life in the heat,” she said between loud sizzles of onion. “I am dying,” I told her. “Something is very wrong with me. My head is leav­ing my body.”

“I like the tem­per­at­ure to be 25 to 30 C. I feel alive. I think I like heat because I have cheated heat. I lived in Saudi Ara­bia, which has air con­di­tion­ing and elec­tri­city is heav­ily sub­sid­ized. Put on long flow­ing, cot­ton clothes,” she advised. “People make the mis­take of think­ing the less clothes you wear the cooler you’ll be. Not true.”

Even my son was per­plexed, as I staggered about warn­ing him, I might throw up … until I did throw up. “What’s wrong with you, Mammy? You are turn­ing into a phys­ical wreck!” This dis­com­bob­u­la­tion car­ried on as long it remained above 25 C. If I tried to exit my apart­ment I couldn’t make it to the end of the block, without feel­ing my legs give way. If I made it to the super­mar­ket, I had to hold on to the fix­tures as if I was on a rush­hour bus. My brain could not even form words prop­erly and I wasn’t sure where I was until I stuck my two Hobbity arms into the meat cooler like a zom­bie and man­aged to cool down a degree or two.

Finally, since it takes a vil­lage to defeat me, a large fuzzy bumble bee entered my shoe and stung me on the toe. I felt like my foot had been ampu­tated with a hot axe, so I laid down and did noth­ing but eat emer­gency cher­ries for 36 hours.

A week later, my GP (gasp! — that rare and highly endangered spe­cies) took my blood pres­sure. I was sur­prised to learn I have the blood pres­sure of a six­-to-eight­-yea-r­old child rather than Pom­pey the Great. On the upside, I could now eat salt and vin­egar chips, drink elec­tro­lytes and put my legs up in the air. Obvi­ously, a salty nov­el­ist is pre­cisely the per­son to come up with the neces­sary inter­ven­tions needed to deliver us to Septem­ber alive.

And so I laid with my legs up and thought: short of invent­ing a time machine to excise the hot­test hours of the day, I see no path for­ward for those of us with small veins, bad tem­pers and hot flashes who do very poorly in the heat. Yet we must do something. Forest fires are raging and work­ers must fight them. Dish­wash­ers are trapped in local kit­chens with no air con­di­tion­ing. Con­struc­tion work­ers are dis­solv­ing high above us. Food deliv­ery cyc­lists are bring­ing the air­con­di­tioned their sup­per. The poor and our most vul­ner­able dis­pro­por­tion­ately die from this heat. Even sup­ply­ing air con­di­tion­ers lands them with bills they can­not pay.

Still, my mod­est pro­posal for this exten­ded fest­ival of scorch­ing is we should take inspir­a­tion from our ursine friends Yogi Bear or Hank the Tank and do an inverse hiberna­tion between July and Octo­ber.

If this fails: keep an eye on eld­er­lies, the sway­ing and the bad tempered dur­ing these try­ing times. Offer to shop for them, wave fans on them or buy them air con­di­tion­ers, and — vitally — give up your seat on transit.

The heat was so bad here recently even my son was feel­ing weird by the end of the day. If only I could take him to a 24­hour lib­rary, or an all­night swim­ming pool. I could just feed him frozen grapes. Maybe that will help.

Keep an eye on eld­er­lies, the sway­ing and the bad tempered dur­ing these try­ing times. Offer to shop for them, wave fans on them or buy them air con­di­tion­ers, and — vitally — give up your seat on transit

MEMORIES UP IN SMOKE

This opinion was written by Hilary Faktor and was published in the Globe & Mail on July 19, 2025.

Main Street in Flin Flon, Man., stands empty on June 12 as wildfires raged in the north of the province.

When wildfire threatened my hometown, I realized the places you love can disappear in an instant, Hilary Faktor writes

‘Should you still be in town if you can see fire in the distance?”

I was on the phone with my mom, checking in on the rapidly changing forest fire situation near her community of Flin Flon, Man., when her neighbour burst through the front door hollering, “It’s time to go! We need to get out!”

Linda, the neighbour, had been listening to the radio as the evacuation alert rolled in and made sure my mom knew. They’ve been next-door neighbours for 20 years. I’d called Mom after she texted me a picture of her home taken at 3 a.m., where behind her front yard, an eerie orange glow filled the sky. The forest fire crept in, like an invading army. “It was surreal seeing that,” she said. “Like something out of Hollywood.”

In the days preceding, Mom and I had gone over a list of items she should have on hand in case the fire came closer. As an organized worrier with a steady feed of natural disasters on my timeline, my checklist was rapid fire:

“Passport, driver’s licence and wallet?”

“Packed with my will, marriage licence and your dad’s death certificate,” she replied.

“What about Auntie Susan’s quilt and the children’s books?” I asked. We began a quick backand-forth on precious family keepsakes – the vintage picture books and novels of my mother’s youth as well as the quilt a friend made for my aunt before she died of cancer, sewing our family’s life stories into each square.

Last summer, when a nearby forest fire caused the evacuation of Bakers Narrows, a lake community only a 15-minute drive from Flin Flon, I proactively took my great-grandparents’ photos and two patchwork Norwegian blankets back to Calgary.

“I have everything. I need to go.” Mom’s voice was laced with panic, but she had a plan, and a little of the tension left my shoulders knowing that she was getting out of town. She’d join the convoy of vehicles fleeing the approaching threat. Before we said goodbye, she whispered, “It’s not only your things, you know, it’s your sense of place.”

I know now that I didn’t fully comprehend the gravity of a fire which recently threatened my hometown – and which, at the time I write this, threatens it once again. Like all Canadians, I’ve followed past summers’ infernos in Fort McMurray, Alta., Kelowna, B.C., and Nova Scotia. But reading about them or hearing news on the radio is nothing like the searing panic you feel when the blaze threatens the places you thought were safe.

Then my sister blew through the door of my home, two toddlers in tow and her cellphone ready. Michelle is an HR professional on maternity leave and, within minutes, had brought me up to speed on the problem thousands of people evacuating forest fires in the North faced – a lack of hotels. She handed me a notebook and said, start with The Pas.

Meanwhile, my mom was driving alone. With fires in Manitoba and Saskatchewan blocking new roads daily, she felt uneasy about the eight-hour drive to Winnipeg (where we have family) as the evacuation alert had recommended. Mercifully, Mom’s friend tracked her down at a gas station along the route and suggested they make the drive together.

Amid the adrenalin, a slow, painful thought crept in. Would the fire breach town? The night of May 28, the day Flin Flon was evacuated, people misread a NASA heat map and believed the fire had burnt half the town. In disbelief, I tried to visualize that much loss. A few hours later, we learned the truth. The town was safe, but mighty hot. I struggled to internalize how the places of my childhood – towns, parks and well-loved wilderness, can change in an instant.

Manitoba is experiencing one of the most destructive wildfire seasons in recent decades, but this story could be from many places in Canada.

Flin Flon has a population of around 5,000 people. The 777 mine, which produced copper, zinc, gold and silver, closed in 2022. What if the high school burned, or the community centre? Would there be money to rebuild? Local favourites like the hockey arena – the Whitney Forum, named for H.P. Whitney, the New York financier who along with his son, Cornelius Vanderbilt (Sonny) Whitney, made Hudson Bay Mining & Smelting possible – might not be replaced, leaving a hockey town homeless. I worried about the fate of the Big Island Drive-In. One of only a few dozen left in Canada, this old-time charmer is a favourite of my kids when we visit.

The weeks we spend in Flin Flon each summer are a precious connection to this part of the country for my husband and me. My grandparents and dad are long gone now, but my mom’s house holds cherished memories: climbing the bald rocks behind the house as a child, walking my toddlers through my dad’s garden. Each stone statue and piece of petrified wood holds a memory. My mom’s kitchen, where five generations have eaten our family’s Ukrainian/Saskatchewan borscht. Who are we without the physical foundations of our lives?

Miraculously, the communities of Flin Flon and Creighton were spared, and on June 25, the evacuation order was lifted. The incredible efforts of more than 200 volunteer and professional firefighters held the line. But not so for the nearby village of Denare Beach.

Denare Beach is a special place to me. Chat with a local and they’ll tell you about a sweet fishing spot or the storied limestone crevices: remains of an ancient sea now compacted into limestone with caverns and crevices perfect for adventurers to explore. Denare’s was the last beach my dad visited before he passed away.

I had doom-scrolled late into the night on June 2 as word of a forest fire racing across treetops burned parts of Denare Beach. People watching on home security cameras saw the fire burst through doors and windows with the cruelty of a violent home invasion. The Ridge on Amisk Resort, a hotel and restaurant with a world-class view of Amisk Lake, burned down to the studs. My aunt and uncle married at this hotel, I had high school retreats there, and too many family dinners to count. People in Denare learned of this devastation when the volunteer firefighters, many watching their own homes burn, texted heartbroken condolences or snapped photos showing proof of life to the homes left standing.

People returned to clean the remains of places in Denare, or marvel at how their house made it through, but the kayaks or ATVs in the yard burned to ash. Citizens of Creighton and Flin Flon returned to overgrown lawns and mouldy leftovers, but with a deep sense of gratitude for all that was left. Precious memories in the form of everyday objects.

The relief was temporary as this week, Manitoba issued a second provincewide state of emergency, and people braced for the possibility of another evacuation. Flin Flon is not currently on alert, though conditions are still such that the risk of fire isn’t over yet. But with recent rainfall and ample firefighting support, there is hope.

Manitoba is experiencing one of the most destructive wildfire seasons in recent decades, but this story could be from many places in Canada. My beloved hometown, or yours. This summer, I planned to return home, and I’m hopeful that I still will. To be in my hometown, grateful for all that was spared from the fire. All the everyday things we take for granted, not understanding their value until they’re gone.

Deal­ers have one month to file EV rebate claims

This article was written by Nick Murray and was published in the Toronto Star on July 12, 2025.

Car deal­er­ships who were on the hook for thou­sands of dol­lars in elec­tric vehicle rebates will have a month to make a claim to get their money back.

Trans­port Canada laid out the details in a call Fri­day with deal­er­ships. The depart­ment indic­ated any vehicle that was delivered before the pro­gram paused on Jan. 12 will be eli­gible for reim­burse­ment.

The Cana­dian Auto­mobile Deal­ers Asso­ci­ation wel­comed the news. It estim­ates that its 3,500 mem­bers are owed about $11 mil­lion for rebates on vehicles they had already sold to cus­tom­ers — rebates the deal­ers didn’t claim from the fed­eral gov­ern­ment before Ott­awa said the rebate pro­gram had run out of money.

“I had deal­ers call­ing imme­di­ately after (Trans­port Canada’s brief­ing) who were very emo­tional on the phone, who have been wor­ried about this, because this has had a huge impact on their cash flow,” said Huw Wil­li­ams, the organ­iz­a­tion’s pub­lic affairs dir­ector.

“It was quite emo­tional on the other side to hear deal­ers are going to get paid because not every man­u­fac­turer covered their dealer or sup­por­ted their deal­ers.”

Deal­er­ships will only be allowed to file a max­imum of 25 claims per day, which Wil­li­ams said will more than cover the short­fall.

Trans­port Canada also said any vehicle that was pur­chased before the Jan. 12 cutoff date but delivered to the cus­tomer after that point won’t be eli­gible for reim­burse­ment.

“The cutoff date is something we’ll be dis­cuss­ing with Trans­port Canada,” Wil­li­ams said.

“We’ll have to see how big that prob­lem is and whether that can be resolved. But for the moment, this is a win for deal­ers.”

In Janu­ary, Trans­port Canada paused its pop­u­lar Incent­ives for Zero­Emis­sion Vehicles pro­gram after its fund­ing ran out.

The pro­gram provided up to $5,000 toward the pur­chase of a new zero ­emis­sions vehicle. But with the abrupt sus­pen­sion of the pro­gram — only three days after the gov­ern­ment sug­ges­ted it would be paused when the funds were exhausted — hun­dreds of deal­er­ships were forced to swal­low the cost of any rebate claims they hadn’t yet sub­mit­ted.

E­bike ride to school could cost you

Toronto StarMARCO CHOWN OVED

Liam Roach was pedalling his one year ­old daughter home from daycare on his bright orange cargo ebike when he heard the “whoop whoop” of a police car behind him.

He assumed the officer was trying to pull over a car and moved aside to let him pass. When the military police officer got out and walked up to his bike, he says, he was confused. The cop informed him that Ontario law prohibits having a child on an e­bike — something that sounded unbelievable to Roach, considering he had just purchased the purpose­ built
child­ carrying e­bike at a local shop and he was using a certified child seat.

“I was pretty upset about the whole thing,” Roach said of the incident last September on the Canadian Forces Base in Kingston.

While he was let off with a warning, Roach had to pull his e­bike’s battery out, rendering it a regular bike, in order to ride home legally.

“I don’t disagree that there should be some regulations on e­bikes and children, especially maximum speeds and stuff like that. “But to have a blanket ban where any bicycle with a motor on it isn’t allowed to carry
children seems a little ridiculous to me, especially when the rest of North America and most of the world is in line with this as a suitable method of transportation.”

Last November, Premier Doug Ford’s Progressive Conservatives overturned a law regulating electric bikes and replaced it with one that bans anyone under 16 from riding an e­bike — even as a passenger.

The ban has actually been in effect since 2006, according to the Ministry of
Transportation, when e­bikes were regulated in the same way as scooters. In 2021, the Ford government brought in legislation that created a new category for e­bikes that would allow underage passengers. But the regulations were never proclaimed into law, and the Safer Roads and Communities
Act, which received royal assent in November, overrules the previous law and maintains the ban.


And so while bike shops are selling them, parents are buying them, and a growing number of child­carrying e­bikes are rolling on the streets — doing so it illegal.

The province’s webpage on e­bike regulations doesn’t mention the ban on children.


While February flurries mean bike traffic is currently at a seasonal low, come spring when a growing number of parents pull out their e­bikes and start ferrying their kids between school, daycare and activities, they’ll be risking a ticket and a fine of as much as $1,000.

Toronto police could not say if any tickets have been issued. Spokesperson Laura Brabant said she is not aware of any plans for an enforcement campaign.

While other cities and provinces have rebate programs to encourage families to buy e­bikes, Ontario stands out as the only jurisdiction in the world that bans children on e­bikes, says Jamie Stuckless, the former executive director of the cycling advocacy non­profit Share the Road Coalition,
who has been following the regulation of e­bikes in Ontario for more than a decade.


“We’ve been trying to change the e­bike laws in Ontario forever,” she said.
The way the law defines e­bikes is very broad and includes larger electric and gasoline­ powered scooters that don’t need to be pedalled, said Stuckless.

“A decade or so ago, when these rules were made, e­bikes were not as prominent or as well understood, so perhaps it was just an abundance of caution,” she said. “But now we see there are a lot of purpose ­built e­bikes for safely carrying families.”

“It’s time to update the law,” she said, adding that in the time she’s been advocating for e­bikes, she’s become a mother and bought an e­bike for her young family. “I don’t want people to be getting in trouble for this because tons of parents are riding and bike shops are selling these bikes with
child seats and not letting you know that it’s illegal (to ride with children).”

The offices of Ford and Transportation Minister Prabmeet Sarkaria did not respond to questions about the ban.

Large “cargo” e­bikes are widely available online and in bike shops across the province and can be outfitted with child seats, safety bars and even a canvas rain cover. While some e­bikes operate without pedalling, most have “pedal­assisted” propulsion that uses an electric motor to make it easier to pedal. Popular e­bike brands such as Rad Power Bikes prominently display photos of parents and kids in their promotional material.

Child­carrying e­bikes are the biggest growth segment in the business, says Kevin
McLaughlin, who has been selling all kinds of e­bikes out of Zygg, his Roncesvalles­area shop, since 2020.
“This is what people are excited about. People want to be able to take their kids to school and then keep on going to work and pick up groceries on the way home,” he said.


But McLaughlin said he had no idea a ban on child passengers was in effect.
“It’s very concerning, because people had been told that it was OK and there’s been no communication from the government.”

Instead of banning kids, the province would do well to start enforcing rules that actually relate to safety, like battery size, maximum speed and certification standards, he said.

During the legislative committee debate on the law, Progressive Conservative member Ric Bresee gave a hint that the government would use the new legislation to properly regulate the chaotic and rapidly growing micromobility market.

“There are a huge number of different styles and structures of these bikes,” he said, according to a transcript of the meeting. “We need to make sure that we get that right, as to which ones require licensing, which ones don’t etc., the age restrictions — all of that. That move to get those regulations requires that we, I’ll say, clear the path for those definitions, and that is exactly what this
legislation is doing.”

Michael Longfield, the executive director of the bicycle advocacy group CycleTO, flagged the child passenger ban in a letter to the government while the e­bike bill was winding its way through the legislative process.

“I think this perpetuates a myth that kids riding on e­bikes are in some way dangerous, which is quite misleading given that traffic collisions in cars tend to be a much higher percentage of young people’s injuries and deaths,” he said.

There are years of data from other countries where e­bikes are popular and none of it points to any safety concerns for children, as long as the bikes are properly designed and certified, Toronto emergency room doctor Edward Xie said.

“I see tons of children on e­bikes, but I have not seen any e­bike injuries,” he added. To the contrary, because of the health benefits associated with an active lifestyle, “we should encourage families to use these bikes,” said Xie. “The evidence is very clear on this that the health benefits of riding a bike are immense, primarily due to prevention of chronic disease such as
diabetes and heart disease.”

Opposition Transportation critic Jennifer French said the ban tells you everything you need to know about the Ford government’s attitude toward cyclists.

“This is not a government that is interested in hearing from cyclists. I think that they seem to consider them a fringe group,” said French, who linked the e­bike rules to the province’s plan to rip out bike lanes.

French said parents who came to committee to express their concerns were brushed aside by the Progressive Conservatives.

“It doesn’t make any sense that they would go forward with something that creates such havoc when I think the spirit of any e­bike legislation is meant to make things easier,” she said.


Kevin Shields and his wife, Ewa, sold their car when they moved to Toronto, and say biking, walking and transit are far better ways of getting around. They take their two kids, ages four and 10, on an e­bike to and from school everyday.

“It is our car. We use it 24/7/365 for everything we do,” he said. “The kids love it. They play `I spy.’ They sing. It could be raining or snowing and they’re under the cover, totally oblivious.”

E­bikes are a great solution for families feeling the squeeze of inflation, says CycleTO’s Longfield, with sales as strong as they are, going forward there are going to be more e­bikes with kids around — even if they’re not legal for use.

“They’re sold at Canadian Tire,” he said. “I don’t know if people know they are buying a vehicle they’re not legally allowed to use.

“Could you imagine buying a car and later finding out you can’t drive it?”

Hurricane Helene’s death toll tops 90

This article was written by the Associated Press and was published in the Toronto Star on September 30, 2024.

Authorities struggled to get water and other supplies to isolated, flood-stricken areas across the U.S. Southeast in the wake of Hurricane Helene as the death toll from the storm rose.

A North Carolina county that includes the mountain city of Asheville reported 30 people killed due to the storm, and several other fatalities reported in North Carolina on Sunday pushed the overall death toll to at least 91 people across several states.

Supplies were being airlifted to the region around the isolated city. Buncombe County manager Avril Pinder pledged she would have food and water into Ashville — known for its arts, culture and natural attractions — by Monday.

Officials warned rebuilding from the widespread loss of homes and property would be lengthy and difficult. Deaths also were reported in Florida, Georgia, South Carolina and Virginia.

North Carolina Gov. Roy Cooper predicted the toll would rise as rescuers and other emergency workers reached areas isolated by collapsed roads, failing infrastructure and widespread flooding.

He implored residents in western North Carolina to avoid travel, for their own safety and to keep roads clear for emergency vehicles. More than 50 search teams spread throughout the region.

One rescue effort involved saving 41 people north of Asheville. Another focused on saving a single infant.

U.S. President Joe Biden described the impact of the storm as “stunning” and said he would visit the area this week as long as it does not disrupt rescues or recovery work.