Of Prine, Ferlinghetti and Ochs circa 1973: What I didn’t know I was collecting
In 1973, I was twenty-two, with a newly finished master’s degree - too early - yet convinced that ideas mattered—especially the ones that sat uneasily with the world as it was. I was already interested in poverty in Canada, not as an abstraction but as a lived condition shaped by institutions, language, history and policy. At the same time, I was absorbing existential philosophy through doctoral-level courses at York University, trying to understand how meaning is constructed, how experience precedes explanation, and how people live inside structures they did not design. I flamed out before getting my PhD because I had - somewhat later - come to the point where I could not stand the thought of sitting in a classroom listening to anything about anything. Twenty-two may be too…
