Governing the night were: gritty interiors, grimy toilets, great music, gutsy performances, gargantuan gin and tonics, good friends with garish hair and gregarious strangers sporting equally gaudy dos. Exercise was gyrating and grinding on the dance floor or aerobicizing in the gym. Guzzling life was our mantra. Stir and repeat. Great times were had by all, gallivanting downtown till the wee hours, gulping down greasy meatball sandwiches on the street corner before catching the subway home. We got up early and went to school and then work. We germinated ideas, grabbed and generated opportunities with a ‘gonna do it all’ attitude; grafts of immigrant go-getters that we were. We grew up in a time when using good judgement and being gentle, genuine and generous wasn’t groundbreaking. If and when in trouble or in need, we gratefully accepted guidance from our guardian angels in the guise of friends, teachers and parents. The goofy, glorified, glamorous and geeky gravitated towards each other in an open and gracious gesture of inclusion. The glory days of a bygone generation.