When speed becomes cheap, what are we missing?

Matt Shumer’s widely shared post argues that something big is happening with AI – and he’s right about the velocity. Ann Handley’s response added a line that stayed with me: “When speed becomes cheap, judgment carries a premium.” This piece builds on that idea. It’s less about panic or acceleration, and more about what actually produces senior judgement – reflection, consequence, pattern recognition, and time. If output is becoming frictionless, what are we risking in the process?

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The Evolving Tree of Life

The last Christmas tree we put up this year is the one we call The Tree of Life.

Its ornaments are an unruly, beautiful mix: souvenirs gathered on our travels, handmade treasures, and gifts that arrived with stories attached.

At the heart of it all are the ornaments from a Boxing Day long ago, when I threw a surprise birthday party for Stan. (His birthday is in February, which ensured the surprise element.) I asked each guest to bring an ornament that reminded them of Stan – or that would remind him of them. What came out of that idea was nothing short of magic. Those ornaments became the soul of this tree, each one a small, sparkling witness to friendship and love.

We put the Tree of Life up only days before Christmas, not out of procrastination, but intention. We waited for Ben and Georgia.

Back in 2008, when they were young kids, they and their mother Tammy insisted on helping me decorate the tree after my gallbladder surgery. They worried I’d overdo it on my own – and they weren’t wrong.

What followed was laughter, tangled lights, sharing ornament stories, and the kind of joy that sneaks up on you when you’re not looking. It turned into a tradition that carried on for seven years.

Time, as it does, moved things along. The kids grew up. Montreal beckoned. Last year, out of the blue, Ben called his mum to ask if I might “let” them decorate the tree again. The “kids” were young adults now, and yet here they were, wanting to come back to the Tree of Life.

I didn’t hesitate.

Last year was a gift. And when they asked if they could come again this year? That felt like something even rarer – proof that some traditions don’t fade. They deepen.

The Tree of Life isn’t about perfection or timing. It’s about people. And every year, it reminds me exactly how lucky we are in this life of ours.

The Hint, the Heart, and the Handmade Gift

I had one of those experiences that feels like it could only begin at the One of a Kind Show. I went with my husband this year – already a seasonal miracle – and while Stan wasn’t quite prepared for the amount of walking, we quickly settled into a rhythm: one row together, one row with him happily parked somewhere, one row reunited… Somewhere on one of my solo circuits, I wandered into the Vintage section and promptly fell for m.goldfinger gifts – a treasure-trove of pieces upcycled from old tins. Wall hangings, ornaments, jewellery… each one with that whimsical “where did you come from” aura. I instantly zeroed in on a pair of earrings. Gorgeous. Ingenious. Retro-magical.

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Of Snowmen, Sweets and Serendipity

That moment when a gift lands exactly where you hoped it would. I’ve been sharing my pre-loved Christmas decorations and paraphernalia this year. Some might call my collection excessive; I call it enthusiastic. When I unearthed a snowman mug, bowl, and plate set, I immediately thought of a friend with a young daughter. In my mind’s eye, I could already see it holding a treat for Santa on Christmas Eve, now that her little one is just the right age for that kind of magic.

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Stuart and the spell of the season

I miss Stuart McLean something fierce, especially in December. For years, a pilgrimage to his Vinyl Cafe Christmas show in Toronto was woven into the heart of my season.

It all began by accident. I’d gone to see the Vinyl Café show live when it visited St. Catharines and I was later raving about it over dinner with friends. Barb, our hostess that night, looked at me with a twinkle and said, “But have you ever been to the Christmas show?”

When I told her no, she lit up. Though she was Jewish, she had a soft spot for the emotion and wonder of Stuart’s holiday concert. She’d been going solo for years, comfortable in a theatre full of strangers who adored the same thing.

Right there at the table, we made a pact. That Christmas, we’d go together. And we did. Again and again. Convocation Hall, the Hummingbird, Massey Hall… each a stop on what became our private tradition. Among thousands of people, it always felt like we’d slipped into a small pocket of magic that belonged just to us.

I lost Barb before I was ready, and the Christmas shows ended before any of us were. But every time I hear the reprise of a Dave and Morley Christmas tale — or really any moment Stuart’s voice drifts back into my world — she’s right there at my elbow again. The memories carry that familiar bittersweet edge, the way the best ones often do. They still warm me. They still glow.

And every December, I find myself back in those halls with her, two friends in the dark, letting the lights of Stuart and the season work their simple, generous spell. 

• If you crave Stuart's voice and Dave and Morley stories as I do, you probably already know about the "Backstage at the Vinyl Café" podcast with Jess Milton. Jess was the Vinyl Café's producer for many years, so is in the unique position to augment recordings of Stuart with her own backstage stories, personal memories and fascinating insights. https://apostrophepodcasts.ca/vinylcafe/ 

And a lovely little epilogue: thanks to the wine industry, I later had the unexpected treat of meeting Ted Dekker, whom I instantly recognised as one of Stuart’s Christmas show regulars. I’d watched him perform countless times, never imagining we’d eventually cross paths in my own corner of the world. Getting to know him better has felt like one more gentle thread tying past to present — a reminder that some stories keep echoing long after the curtain falls.