was a middle-aged teacher on my paper route back in 1960-61. She lived in a black wooden house with an old-fashioned screened porch just north of Bruce Avenue (east side) and drove a grey Beetle, a cheap car that poorly-paid teachers of the time could afford.
I remember one winter’s day delivering papers after school in a blizzard, as she arrived home, and taking pity most likely, invited me in to warm up from the frigid cold and snow. She sat me down at a kitchen table by the side window and made me a hot drink, then buttonholed me about school and who I was.
She had a slight edge to her, but I was glad that she timed whatever interest in me for that miserable, dismal late afternoon. She was single and might perhaps have wanted the company, after knocking off from a hard day’s work, teaching other kids of the day.
I suspect Mrs. Todd would have passed well before 2000, and is one of the many kind people I met on my Tribune paper route on those dismal Winnipeg winter days. One of the myriad, assorted ‘acquaintances’ and supporting characters we all came into contact with in our childhoods and youth. People we’d forgotten about until we reached our 70s and then unexpected memories came back to us, for no particular reason, at 4 one winter in the morning.