Not that I would, personally, know anything about that, but I've heard through the grapevine one of the sure-fire symptoms is when you start doing shit you've never been known to do before. Like, just to pick a hypothetical example out of the ether, shopping for high-end footwear.
I gotta admit I've been somewhat infatuated with the Dayton 64 brand of late, and I'll tell you why. Thanks to a recent Globe feature on bespoke brands unique to Canada, I learned that Dayton 64s are called that because the IWA Canadian HQ was at 64 Dayton Avenue in Vancouver!
And here's why this matters to the pot-addled hillbilly. For a period of several months, I think four max, maybe four and a half, I was the shop steward at an International Woodworkers of America local in Victoria BC. As it happened, none of the vets wanted the job, so the punk from Ontario got it by default. The punk from Ontario was soon enough embroiled in crises on all sides that had him scurry home to Ma & Pa's basement, but to this day I regard those few months with nostalgia and regret...
Not sure what that's worth... you get to a certain age and damned near everything you see in the rear-view is framed in nostalgia and regret!
And I'm not a complete stranger to Canadian-made high-end footwear. I've had a pair of blue suede Hartts forever. I got 'em in a thrift shop for twenty bucks. There was another high-end brand also from New Brunswick that I think is still around but their shoes are built in England now.
But back to the Alzheimer Highway. Right now I'm looking at a vintage pair of Daytons, a wee bit scuffed up, on offer at five hundred bucks. Ya, that's three times what I've ever paid for footwear before, but hot damn... wait a minute! That sharp-looking logger's boot may look good but it don't have so much as a steel toe! WTF?
I couldna even wore those puppies into the shop where I was the shop steward!
See... a guy who can figure that out still has a lot of runway left on that highway!
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