An Alberta Rose

Often in this blog I touch on personal parts of my life, but usually only in passing, and rarely about more than the Intrepid Junior Blogger and her exploits. Last week though a grand lady left this world and while she never lived in Fort McMurray she spent virtually her entire life in the province of Alberta. She was, in my mind, a true Albertan at heart, and she was part of a rich family history in this province.

You see much of my dad’s side of the family resides in this province, and have done so for decades. They have farmed and ranched in the Provost and Bodo area, an area I grew to know well as a child on various family trips to visit aunts and uncles and cousins. My aunt was born in 1931 on a farm close to Cosine, Saskatchewan, a place so small you cannot find it on a map. She grew up there and over her life lived in Edmonton and Veteran, and, finally settled for good in Provost with my uncle Eddy.

I remember my aunt from when I was a child, and for three good reasons. One, she was a tiny petite lady who always had impeccable hair and clothing, her nails done and her black hair teased into a beehive (some would say she was trapped in the 50’s, I suppose, but I think she was instead trapped in glamour). Two, she was my father’s favourite sister, and I loved the way she would tease him and call him “Johnny” – there was always pure affection in her tone, and you could tell they had a very close bond. And finally she was a musician, and when she and the rest of my aunts and uncles came to visit us in the city where I spent my childhood and young adult years our house would ring with banjos and accordions and voices as they spent hours – days, really – drinking rye and playing.

My aunt loved animals, a trait in my father’s family that I too inherited and that has now passed on to the Intrepid Junior Blogger. My aunt also loved life, and I suspect she loved being an Albertan, proud of our pioneering past and tough spirit – just like her, a woman who fought and beat cancer in the 1980’s.

When I received the message that my aunt had passed away it was difficult. Both of my parents are gone now, and seeing their siblings leaving this world is not only hard but reminds me of their loss, and how much I miss them. Knowing that my aunt was so close to my dad made it doubly hard, because I know that she loved him fiercely. I know she suffered when he died, and I know she missed him just as I did. And now, even though I had not seen her in years, I thought about all those times listening to them play “You Are My Sunshine” and laughing, glasses of rye in their hands and that family twinkle in their eye.

I would suspect some would say I am a bit like my aunt. I am not a tall woman, and I have a certain love for fashion and style. I have a bit of a feisty side, and I love animals and family just as my aunt did. She never had children, whether by choice or chance I do not know (and do not care), but she was loved so dearly by the children of so many others that I doubt she ever felt she was lacking in the love of a child. She was the kind of lady you just adored the moment you met her, from the second you saw her smile.

My aunt was named Rose. I do not think she was named after the Wild Rose, the official flower of Alberta, but in my mind my aunt Rose and this province will be forever linked. After my parents passed away I became the family archivist, and I have in my possession decades of family photos. One is a photo of my Uncle Eddy and my Aunt Rose walking down a street in Edmonton, my aunt Rose looking decidedly glamorous in a long coat, with her hair streaming behind her. I will always remember her in that way, I suppose, as a lady with a gentle heart and a strong voice, one with flair and feistiness and a keen sense of fun and joy.

Today in this blog I eulogize my Aunt Rose. She passed away on March 7, 2013, at the age of 81. She was a musician, an animal lover, a fashionista before the word was invented, a wife, a sister, an Albertan, and, in my world, a beloved aunt. She will be missed – but never forgotten. She has gone on to join my parents wherever they may be – and she remains, as always, with them in my memories, and my heart.

Obituary for my Aunt Rose

Rushing in Where Angels Fear to Tread - Medevac Services and Fort McMurray

This is a fight I have been observing closely over the last few months, and one I have written about more than once. This week I find it heavily on my mind as those fighting to retain medevac services at the Edmonton City Centre Airport ramp up their efforts before the March 15th deadline, the date when medevac services will move to the Edmonton International Airport. This is a controversial move, one prompted by the decision of Edmonton city council to close the ECCA in favour of development, and one that has many, many people very passionate. I understand that passion, and I respect it - but I am going out on a limb here to say I do not agree with fighting to keep the ECCA open to medevac services, at least not in the long term. Why? Because as a community advocate I actually don't believe it is in our best long term interests.

There are those who might be outraged by this, but I hope they will listen to my reasons and while they may not agree with them at least respect them in the same way I respect their point of view on this topic. I have two very fundamental reasons I do not believe we should attempt to intervene with the closure of the ECCA, at least in terms of expropriation, and I will detail them below. And let's be clear - I worry too about increased transit times for critical patients, and I worry too about the impact this will have on the people in our community. For me, though, keeping the long term picture in mind is important too.

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1. Slippery slope

There are those who argue we should advocate for the provincial government expropriating the land from the City of Edmonton in order to keep the airport open to medevacs. This is a dangerously slippery slope in my opinion and one that could have serious repercussions, especially right here in the heart of the oil sands. If we argue that the province should expropriate the land for health issues what stops another group from lobbying the government to expropriate land for environmental issues? What would stop a group from trying to claim that an oil sands company is exhibiting poor stewardship of the environment and fighting to have the province expropriate their property? It's unlikely to happen, and unlikely to be successful, but expropriation of the land in this case could open up a very nasty case of worms with potential economic and social impact right here in Fort McMurray. What if some other community decided our redevelopment plans for the Snye have a detrimental effect on them and decide to fight for expropriation? If we expropriate the land for the ECCA we open a door - and once the door is open we need to realize that others may walk through it, too, others who we don't even see coming. Besides the economic cost of expropriation there is the reality that it would set a precedent that would likely terrify most cities and municipalities in this province because it would make very clear they do not have autonomy within their borders, and that their decisions are all subject to the whims of whatever government is in power at the time. I find this deeply concerning.

2. Long-term

So, say we fight for expropriation and are successful. The provincial government buys the land from the City of Edmonton, and it costs anywhere from millions to billions of dollars (I've heard such a wide range of figures tossed around I don't even pretend to know what the truth is). Then add to that runway maintenance and all the other maintenance required to have a functioning landing strip in the middle of a city (and runways, especially those in the very middle of a city centre, require careful attention). The costs mount, but we have access to medevac services for patients from the north. What happens when five years from now we approach the province and ask them to build a tertiary care hospital in Fort McMurray, one that would end our reliance on medevac services? When we ask for what a city of our size deserves? Well, I would guess they would say no, because given the existence of medevac services why would they say yes?

Look, when I arrived here ten years ago we were medevacing out moms in preterm labour and babies in distress. Ten years later we still are, and I do NOT want us to be doing this ten years from now. It is troubling to me that in ten years we could be the third largest city in the province, with one of the largest industries in the world on our doorstep, and STILL be medevacing our residents out for medical care. If we ask the government to spend millions or billions on preserving the ECCA what is their motivation to build us a state-of-the-art tertiary care hospital? They can simply turn around and point to our medevac services and how they fought to maintain them, and we can still find ourselves on medevac flights for medical crises we should be able to treat right here in our community. Our hospital does the best it can with what it has but it simply does not have the capability to treat critical patients with certain conditions. And why? Because we have relied to this point on medevac services, thinking we could not aim higher. I want us to aim higher. I want us to advocate for a full-service tertiary care hospital where we can treat our critically injured and ill residents right in our community. And I worry that if we are successful in preserving the ECCA that we will kibosh any future chances to have that happen, and instead we will find ourselves on a plane twenty years from now with a critically ill loved one when we could be right here in a full service hospital instead.

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I realize not everyone will agree with my position, and it may even anger some. And that is fine, but again I ask that we do not forget that we are in this together and like everything else in life there is no one "right" answer. Perhaps I am entirely wrong and we should be preserving all medevac services and continuing our reliance on them regardless of the long term impact on the community. Perhaps we should not worry about slippery slopes and the potential for this to actually harm, not help, in the long run. For me, though, these two reasons are why I haven't thrown myself into the medevac fray. I am a huge supporter of this community, the residents, and what is best for it - but I may not always agree with others as to what that best interest is. I understand the concerns expressed by the doctors, and I respect them. I understand and respect the concerns of all those who are involved in this issue, but I do think we need to recognize that it is not simple and that there are potential long-term and unintended impacts of a decision to force another city or municipality to bend to our will. If we are willing to accept those long-term and unintended impacts - eg. challenges to expropriate other properties, or lack of motivation to build a tertiary care hospital in our own community - then perhaps forcing expropriation is the right course of action. For me, though? Well, I am not so certain that it serves our long-term interests. I find myself torn between thinking we should fight to preserve a small landing strip in Edmonton or fight to build a hospital here that means no one needs to be medevaced ever again (or at least only in the rarest of circumstances). For me, in my heart, it says fight for our own hospital so we are not subject to the whims of other cities and the changes they foist upon us. For me the fight must be to have autonomy, and our own tertiary care hospital right here in Fort McMurray. And so that is why today I rush in where angels fear to tread, and give my own thoughts on an issue that is contentious - and that impacts us all.

Paying the Price on Highway 881

The 2013 budget has been announced by the provincial government, and we had been warned in advance that some things would change. Right here in this region we saw the impact of the budget in the announcement that the work planned to upgrade Highway 881 is being deferred, including the passing lanes and rest areas planned for development. I will admit I am disappointed by this change, but there seems to be some fundamental misunderstanding about what was originally promised way back in October 2012 in regards to the 881 so I’d like to address that  before moving on.

I received quite a vehement email from a reader about the provincial government breaking their commitment on Highway 881, but when I questioned my correspondent a bit more closely it was revealed that they were under the impression that twinning of the 881 as well as Highway 63 had been promised – and that was never the case. Yes, Highway 63 is due to be twinned by 2016 and that plan is still in place (no doubt partially due to recognizing the necessity as well as realizing that if they announced delays in that plan there would likely be full-scale revolt – and frankly I’d be right in the front of that pitchfork-and-burning-torches mob). There was never a commitment made or announced to twin Highway 881 despite some hysterics by the NDP about this commitment not being met (a commitment never promised cannot be broken and therefore this one is a total red herring, which I explained to my correspondent). But it is true that the proposed and planned improvements to Highway 881 are being deferred, and it is this I would like to speak to.

I suppose I have two issues with this. One is the concept that it is always best to under-promise and over-deliver as opposed to the reverse. It is never wise to make promises that one is unsure they can fulfill, and if the money to improve Highway 881 was not allocated then it would probably have been far wiser to make no promises at all as opposed to ones that were later “deferred”. There is no doubt we have issues with Highway 881, especially given that it has become the alternate route of choice for many, and the default route when collisions on Highway 63 necessitate closure. We need to find a way to improve Highway 881 because it has begun to claim more lives as this region grows, and we need to do it now before the true impact of growth hits us like a semi-trailer doing 120 clicks. The question that begs to be answered is: Where will the money come from?

Well, people, for me I have been thinking that maybe we need to have a conversation about toll roads. I realize this is contentious and could result in a revolt as well, but we need to be realistic here. If we want an improved highway that protects lives are we willing to pay a bit more to make it happen?

Toll roads are uncommon in this country but I am not exactly sure why the very idea outrages people in the way it seems to do. Yes, governments are there to pay for things like roads and schools and hospitals but as someone who has served on parent council for years I also know that even in schools funds are often raised by parent councils to provide the schools with certain items the government cannot afford. This is simply a reality of our educational system, and parent councils pay for everything from sports equipment to team uniforms to items for classrooms. So, why are we so hesitant to even consider the idea of a toll road to improve a highway that desperately needs improving?

Perhaps as a resident this idea outrages you, but in other places residents are exempted from tolls or charged a drastically reduced rate, thus targeting industrial or commercial traffic for tolls. This is a concept worthy of exploring as well so that we can determine if it makes sense in our situation, and if this would expedite the improvements to Highway 881 by providing the funding that has now disappeared.

Look, people, I don’t and won’t pretend to have all the answers on this one. What I do have is a lot of questions, including why the concept of toll roads seems so outlandish here when it is so effective in other places. I don’t think any ideas should be off-limits, ever, and so I think exploring this idea is worthwhile even if we reject it in the end. What I do have is a firm belief that the twinning of Highway 63 must continue and must be accomplished as quickly as possible to lessen deaths and collisions on it – and I believe we must also consider Highway 881 and ways to improve safety there, too. As always I believe much of the responsibility lies with us as drivers, and so we must acknowledge our own role in improving safety. However, if we truly want to see improvements made in a time of financial austerity then we may need to consider ideas that we have previously rejected, such as toll roads. Maybe it’s time to put our money where our mouth is, people. Let’s stop the hysterics and open the dialogue about the concept of toll roads – because I know a toll that meant fewer die on the highways leading into our community is one I would happily pay.

Not Your Father's Fort McMurray

This post was originally written and submitted to Huffington Post Alberta for the blog I write there about life in Fort McMurray. It received such a positive response that I felt it worthwhile to share it here on the community blog that inspires those emails and messages I get from across the country.

Not Your Father's Fort McMurray

In my life as a community blogger I occasionally get emails and messages from those curious about where I live. Sometimes they come from those who have been to northern Alberta, and sometimes they come from people from countries far away, wondering if this is the place they have been looking for to change their fortunes. And, on occasion, they come from someone who has heard about this place, through national media or anecdotes, and who have stumbled across my blog - and a different perspective.

Recently I received a message of the latter kind. As many know this region is not only home to many but also a place where many choose to work, but not live. They live here in rented rooms or hotels or work camps, away from their families while they work. They have, for whatever reason, decided they do not wish to live here, and instead this is simply a place where they derive their income. It has always been this way to some extent, as the person who contacted me recently explained. You see her father worked here many years ago, but left his family at home in a province far away. He would come home from his time here and tell his family stories of this rough, wild n'tumble place in the northern bush. I guess in the end that is why she contacted me, because she found my blog, and she had some questions.

When she wrote me she commented that the place I write about does not sound at all like the place her father described. She told me how he would call it "the real wild west", and how he said it was no place for families, or children. She told me he thought of it as a giant work camp, nothing more, and not a place he would ever take his family - and so she has never seen it. She said to me: "I guess you are either making up the stuff you write about Fort McMurray, or it has really changed since then". I found this comment intriguing, because there is a third option, too.

I can guarantee I am not inventing the story of my life here. This place truly is an astonishingly diverse community with dozens of nations represented. This is a place of amazing generosity, as shown by our keen interest in philanthropy and volunteerism. This is a place where the average age is 31 and with a skyrocketing birth rate, a place of baby strollers and toddlers and young families. This is a place of great natural beauty, the boreal forest and dancing northern lights. This is a place where thousands have decided to build a career, a life, and a home. All these things are true. And while things quite likely have changed since my correspondent's father worked here I think something else has changed, too. I think the way those who live here feel about our community has changed.

I believe there have always been those who were proud to live here, but in recent years I think this has skyrocketed just like our birth rate. Just in the eleven years I have been here I have seen that transition, as people have become not just proud but almost over-the-top ebullient about this place. Citizens began to not only feel pride but to display it, to talk about their community and what is good about it, not just the problems (and yes, we do have those problems, just like every other community, and we are working on them, too). So while I am not lying about the nature of this place, and while it has changed over the decades I think something else has changed, too - the people who choose to call this home.

When I read the message from the woman who has never been here I considered my reply carefully. When I did reply I suggested that she might want to come and visit to confirm that I am not, in fact, making anything up, and that I did think this place has changed as it has grown so much since her father was here. I then suggested something else. I asked her to consider bringing her father with her when he comes to visit to see if just maybe this is no longer the "wild west" he recalls, and if maybe he was wrong about it even all those years ago, as there have always been those who called this place home. I started my reply to her just as I have titled this post - "This is not your father's Fort McMurray", and I meant it. For him this place was never home, and it was not his Fort McMurray - but it is mine, and that is why I choose to write about it and share the story of my life. This is not your father's Fort McMurray, and not the Fort McMurray of infamy and lore. This is my Fort McMurray, a place of community, diversity, generosity - and my home.

 

Heading North to Fort Chipewyan - and Remembering

While I was on the plane I was remembering a time in my life over a decade ago, before the Intrepid Junior Blogger was born. It was a time when I lived in a small gold mining community in northwestern Ontario, a placed called Red Lake. While living there I stumbled upon a job that sort of changed my life because it introduced me to a love of flying, and a love of the true north. You see I worked for a very small airline called Bearskin Airlines, one that flew into large centres like Winnipeg and Thunder Bay. But Bearskin also flew into much smaller places, places with names like Pikangikum and Keewaywin. These places, fly-in First Nations communities, were part of the airline's daily schedule, and so I learned so much about them, and about the people who live there.

This week memories of those remote places returned to me when I found myself on a plane headed north of Fort McMurray to Fort Chipewyan. It was a single propellor plane I flew on, not so much different from the twin propellor planes we had flown at Bearskin, and the ride was very similar, over vast northern terrain of majestic beauty. I got to see, finally, the site of the massive Richardson ground fire from a couple of years ago, now a blackened expanse of forest waiting for the day when the first green shoots of life begin to appear once more. I got to see boreal forest, and the winter ice road from the air, a road I have never travelled on but heard so much about. And I finally got to see Fort Chipewyan, a place that I am ashamed to say I have never been in my decade living here.

Why ashamed, you might wonder? Because Fort Chipewyan is beautiful in every sense. Before I flew there this week I went online and did some reading, wanting to know the history of this community, hungry to know the past of this place. I learned that it is Alberta's oldest European settlement, established in 1788 (and I can't even imagine the hardy nature of those who settled there then, and the aboriginal peoples who were there long before). I learned that it is an area rich with history, and then, when I landed there, I learned it is a place rich with something else, too - people.

Landing at the Fort Chipewyan airstrip reminded me so much of all those times I landed in far northern places with Bearskin Airlines. Surrounded by forest, colder than Fort McMurray as that little bit further north made the temperature drop, still lots of snow on the ground - it is a stunningly beautiful place.

We had a very brief drive into the community, a chance to glimpse a stone cairn high on a hill and the local museum where I am told there is someone who can talk for hours about history, and heritage. We had a chance to see a bit of the community, the houses and the school and the various buildings. For me, though, it was meeting the people of Fort Chipewyan that sealed the deal. You see "the deal" is that this summer I intend to return to Fort Chip but for pleasure, not business, and with the Intrepid Junior Blogger in tow - because there is something about this place that I want her to experience, too.

I had so many friends in those places in northwestern Ontario, and I realized this week how deeply I miss them. I miss their kindness, and their generousity of spirit, and the way they always made me feel welcome. This week I felt that way with the people of Fort Chipewyan. When I told them this was my first time there they would respond "Welcome to Fort Chipewyan!", said with a beaming smile of pride - and genuine welcome. They told me a bit about their lives there, and about how it is so incredibly beautiful in the summer months. As I spent more time there I missed those places in Ontario more and more, realizing it had been far too long since I had thought about them - and far too long for me to have not visited Fort Chipewyan.

So, as I sat on a plane late that night, tucked into a little seat and enjoying the dark flight out of Fort Chipewyan I resolved to return there when the trees are green and the water no longer frozen. I will fly with my daughter over the site of the Richardson ground fire, and we will remember the summer when it burned, and perhaps we will see some green among all the charred black. We will see where the ice road runs in winter, and we will land at an airport in the far north of Alberta, in a place where Europeans settled in 1788 (and where aboriginal peoples were long before). We will go to the stone cairn, and spend time in the little museum to hear the history. We will explore the lake and walk in the community - and we will meet the people, because I want her to experience the things I have in my life, the people who live in such far northern places. I want her to meet the children and the adults and especially the elders, and listen to their stories. I want her to see that the rich tapestry of life in this part of Alberta is about so much more than Fort McMurray and what is right outside our front door. I want her to head far north with me, and spend some time in a place - and with people - that captured my heart in mere hours. I want her to see the beauty of a place and people that are an integral part of the history of this region, and this province. I want her to understand the importance of places like Fort Chipewyan and Pikangikum and Keewaywin and all those "remote" communities which may be far from us in miles - but close to us in our hearts.

My deep thanks to

the people of Fort Chipewyan

for welcoming a visitor

and making me feel at home :)

Fort Chipewyan Ice Road - and the northern lights

Photo courtesy of Calgary Herald

Seeing Red - Bad Choices, Risks, and Driving

I caught a flash of red in the corner of my left eye, I guess. I had no idea that they - he or she, I have no idea - would dart out into oncoming traffic that way, forcing me to slam on my brakes to avoid hitting them in a T-bone fashion. I could feel the grinding of the antilock brakes, could feel my blood pressure rise, could feel anger seething in an instant. That flash of red was a vehicle that pulled out in front of me from a driveway despite their view of the thoroughfare I was on being obstructed. There was no way they could see me coming, but instead of inching into traffic as the more cautious would they darted out, and I missed hitting them by mere inches. And it was terrifying.

I doubt there would have been a fatality, but there could have been injuries, certainly, especially as I would have hit their passenger side and if there was a passenger inside...well, I do not know their fate in that case. I too could have been injured, despite being in a parking lot and the speed of my vehicle being relatively low. I am certain my car would have been totalled, and likely theirs, too, and while that is far better than injuries it is still troubling.

I am incredibly grateful the ice and snow is gone from the pavement, or I would have surely slid into them, or someone else. I was grateful my brakes are in good shape and I was able to stop in time to avoid them. I am grateful for the witness who later assured me that it was not my fault, that they saw the entire thing, and that they were terrified, too (I am one of those who if you hit me am likely to apologize to you as I am always so intent on never making anyone else feel bad, even if perhaps they should). The whole episode left me shaken, and upset, and angry, and very, very sobered to the reality of how a split-second can change your life. You see, it's split-seconds like this that end lives on Highway 63.

I am sure the driver of the other vehicle thought it would be fine, decided to take a chance even though traffic obstructed their view and they could not see what was coming at them. I am sure they grew weary of waiting and decided to take the opportunity - and risk - of darting out into traffic to get across the thoroughfare. I do not know if they drove away feeling terrified like me, or if they felt terribly clever about it all (and some people do when they take such risks). All I know is that decisions like that, made in other circumstances, can - and do - end lives.

I was deeply grateful the Intrepid Junior Blogger was not in the car with me. I wonder if there were children in the other vehicle who had just been put at risk, and not of their own choice - because of course when we take such risks we imperil not only ourselves but those who ride with us, and those who are in oncoming cars like me.

I realize we all make mistakes, and perhaps the red vehicle drove away chastened and terrified too, vowing to never take such a risk again. I know I drove away thinking about defensive driving and thanking the stars that I was both lucky and cautious. I too know, though, that I am as prone as anyone to bad choices and taking risks, and so I also drove away resolving to think through any such choices in the future.

I spent a lot of last night thinking about the accidents on Highway 63, and the victims. I thought about how some of them must have seen the oncoming cars about to smash into them. I wondered if they saw the faces of those other drivers, the ones who had made bad choices. I thought about that moment of terror, that feeling of panic and fear. I thought about how a single bad choice can end lives - that of others, or your own. I thought again about how safety - on highways, and in parking lots - is the responsibility of all of us, and how we are so reliant on each other making the right choices.

I never saw the face of the person in the red vehicle. It was too fast, just a glimpse of red before it was gone, me left with my foot firmly planted on the brake and feeling a maelstrom of emotions directed at a stranger who came very close to crashing into my world. It was a sobering experience, a close call in a parking lot, and it reminded me of how bad choices can change our lives in a split-second. It left me shaken - and determined to continue to speak out about how all of us are responsible for the lives of others. As soon as you step foot in a car, turn the key, and grab the steering wheel you have become a potential agent of death should you engage in bad choices. I think that is a lesson we all need to remember. I remembered it last night in the Extra Foods parking lot as I stared in terror as a glimpse of red shot past my windshield and into the night.

One Hundred Years in Wood Buffalo - Thoughts on Centennial Celebrations in Fort McMurray

Recently I had the pleasure of attending the launch of a Centennial celebration. It was for the Wood Buffalo RCMP, a detachment that this year will celebrate 100 years of policing in the Wood Buffalo region. 100 years ago, in 1913, the RCMP first opened a detachment in this area (although the location of that very first detachment remains clouded in some mystery), and became the community police for this part of the country. While they had been present here before that time 1913 marks when they decided to become a permanent part of the landscape - and of course they are not alone as some other organizations recently celebrated centennials, too.

You may recall that the Fort McMurray Public School District celebrated their Centennial last year, 100 years since the first school opened in Fort McMurray. The proximity of these two celebrations has gotten me thinking, because what do police and schools have in common? What ties them together? Well, it's community.

No one builds schools or sets up RCMP detachments unless there is some sense of permanency in an area. Even 100 years ago the pioneers of this area recognized that this was a community, not some interim stopping point or transient town. There were already families here, and hence the need for schools, and where there are people you need police, and hence the need for the RCMP. The decision to build a school, though, and to form an RCMP detachment show that 100 years ago there were those who already deemed this a community, and who called it home.

I like to think about the challenges they faced, too. How often do we whine about traffic or lack of retail or not enough events and activities to keep us entertained? Then imagine 100 years ago, when even a short trip must have seemed arduous - and dangerous in the winter. If we think we lack retail now imagine what it must have been like back then, when options were very limited and going to Edmonton to shop was far more difficult than a trip down the highway. And if on occasion we think we are isolated now try to imagine a time and place when it was truly isolated by the very nature of the place. Our challenges pale in comparison, and it makes one wonder why anyone was crazy enough to stick it out and call this place home.

Yet they did call it home, setting up a school and seeing an RCMP detachment form. They formed a community, one that had begun forming many years before, but as the school arrived and the police set up shop the community developed steam, too. It started to become solid, and it began, I suspect, to transition from a a place where people lived into a home.

It's funny as I suspect 100 years ago this place was undergoing some massive changes. There was a new school, and a new RCMP detachment. There was quite likely a new sense of excitement, too, over a community that was beginning to truly take shape. There was quite likely a sense that this place was changing and becoming more and more sustainable and livable. And to me that is pretty amazing, because I think it is happening again, in 2013.

You see this community is changing. There is the city centre redevelopment, new neighbourhoods, new schools, and massive growth on the horizon. There are new families arriving every day, and new babies being born. There are new shops opening, and new possibilities at every turn. This place is becoming more livable, and more sustainable, with every change. Perhaps we don't see the very first school opening, but we see the school district 100 years later, full of our children. And we don't see the very first RCMP detachment, but we see a detachment that has grown along with the community, now employing dozens of officers and staff. We have gone from a place of one school and one tiny RCMP detachment to where we are today, and the question I always ask is: where will we be 100 years from now?

I think it's a fair question, you see, because the decisions we make now will determine where we end up in 100 years. The decisions made in 1912 and 1913 had a profound impact on 2012 and 2013, just as the decisions we are now making will have on 2113. And so we need to decide wisely, and choose our path with care. We have been granted an incredible legacy and a gift, a rich history of those who made decisions that have brought us to where we are today (even with the occasional mis-step, too). As we move forward we must find a way to honour that past while preparing for the future, realizing that the present is the bridge between the two. And, well, we need to remember to celebrate along the way, to recognize achievements like 100 years in a place that has always presented challenges - and opportunities. Here, under the vast northern sky, people have faced those challenges and embraced those opportunities for over one hundred years - and that is something worthy of celebration.

Happy Centennial to the

Wood Buffalo RCMP

who have now faced the challenges

and embraced the opportunities

for one hundred years :)