Heritage Park, Fort McMurray: A Flood of Historic Proportions

In my basement there is an old wooden chest. It is not that old, really, only about thirty-five years or so, but it was lovingly made by my father for my mother. It is a cedar chest of the old style, lined with pale red rosewood, infusing the blankets stored there with a fresh clean scent that always reminds me of my parents. When my mother died it was the only thing of hers I asked to keep, and it was trucked here in the back of a pickup all the way from Saskatoon. It is one of my most precious possessions, and while it is perhaps not vintage now some day it will be, as I will pass it on to my daughter, and on it will go. It is a little piece of my family history, a small reminder of a past when my parents were alive. It is of value to me because it preserves some of that history, and I will always treasure it for that reason alone.

You see history matters. History is what helps us make sense of the present, and prepares us for the future. History is not some dry and dusty thing, only relevant to historians and social science teachers. It matters to all of us because it is the narrative of who we have been, and is crucial in understanding who we have become. I suppose that is why I have always been drawn to Heritage Park, the small museum in downtown Fort McMurray where the history of our region lives.

When the Hangingstone River began to overflow its banks I knew the park was threatened. When I saw Lion's Park disappear under the water I knew Heritage Park was next. And when I saw the photos of the flooding I was heartsick, because I love Heritage Park. A very close friend was married in the small white church there, a wedding I attended. One of the last photos I ever took of my mother was inside the old brown church, a church she said reminded her of growing up on the Saskatchewan prairies in the 1930's. And last August I hired a professional photographer to take some photos of me so I could remember my time as "McMurray Musings", and I wanted to take them in place that was, to me, iconic Fort McMurray - and so one bright Saturday morning we wandered through the park, him taking photos and me just loving the history in the park that keeps our memories safe.

Yesterday, on a bright sunny afternoon, I toured the park again, but this was a very different tour. I went to see the damage the flood left behind, now that the water has receded. I want to make very clear that the people who work at Heritage Park and those who work to preserve our history are a resilient bunch, and they will bounce back from this - but the damage is extensive and they are going to need help. In particular they will need financial assistance, as many of the artifacts, being museum-quality pieces, will require professional restoration and cannot simply be given to volunteers to clean. There will be a need for volunteers too, to help with cleaning the yard, and removing all the debris that washed up against the fences. I imagine as time goes on they may even need carpenters to help replace the boardwalks that simply lifted up and floated around the park, and those with other skills for other tasks. Right now they also need us all to have some patience as they assess the extent of the damage and devise a plan of attack to address it - but I ask you this, Fort McMurray: Please be ready to help. They will need the community to help them to restore the park to it's normal state. Because of the flood many of the events they normally host will likely need to be cancelled, having a negative effect on their ability to generate revenue. This, coupled with the increased financial demand of restoration work, will be an immense burden on those who run the park, and I ask that we all be ready to help them in whatever way they ask and need.

One of the interesting things to note is that this all could have been much worse if it were not for a man named Torchy Peden. Torchy, seeing the waters of the Hangingstone begin to rise, told the Heritage Park staff that they needed to move items to higher ground, as flooding was imminent. Now, Torchy knew this because he has, in his time here, seen this land flood twice before, and so his knowledge of history quite likely saved the park from total devastation. And perhaps that is why such history is so important, you see. Torchy's knowledge of history was quite relevant to the present day, and of tremendous value. He was able to advise the park staff to start removing items, and so they did, even as the waters were rushing in. They were able to save many pieces, and they were able to do so because someone knew the history of the area. There is a lesson in that little piece of information, I think.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of the hardest parts of this is just as with most home insurance Heritage Park has an insurance policy that does not cover damage from flooding. Even though I expected that to be the case I was still deeply saddened to hear it, because it means that likely the worst catastrophe to ever befall the home of our history is a financial burden that Heritage Park will need to bear.

Heritage Park has a Facebook page where you can stay informed about their progress, and a website. There is a heartfelt note on  that website, so beautiful and honest because these folks don't just work at a historical park, you see. They love this place, they love the history, and seeing the place they love like this hurts them in a deep and profound way, I think. I am reposting the message here, and included in it is an email address. If you are able to help - donating money, time, volunteer manpower - please contact them, but do not fret if they do not reply immediately. They are a bit overwhelmed right now, but they will regain their footing. 

_____________________________________________________

FLOOD Sadly our beautiful Heritage Park is in ruins. Because of amazing and caring people, today we were able to remove more of the artifacts, archives, our office files and computers from the buildings. The historical buildings have flooded and we will be assessing the damages as soon as we are able to safely do so. As of this evening, Heritage Park Gift Shop and the main building remain safe and dry. ... Although we are not out of danger yet, we are encouraged and very thankful for the support we continue to receive from E Construction management & staff, Brad & Dunvegan staff, Wilson Industries, Smitty's, ATCO Power, RCMP, Peace Officers & Sheriffs, Forestry staff, Mrs.Jean and the RMWB. I am extremely graceful to Torchy Peden, because of his knowledge and insight on the rising waters of the rivers, early Monday morning we began to move our archives and artifacts to higher grounds and many of our assets have placed in storage units.  Many,many thanks to Brad & Carmen Ramstead (our Society President), Tammy Plowman (my daughter) and Torchy Peden who continue to keep watch and give directions at the park.  Thank you to our Heritage Park's staff Tammy, Elisa, Emma, Nastassia, Susan, Nick, Eva, Tyler, Kailey, Heather and all our summer students for their hard work during these times.  Words can not express how appreciative I am to all the incredible volunteers who have been showing up to help in so many ways. Though these are difficult and trying times, with the support of our community, Heritage Park will once again be a beautiful, beautiful place!

We are seeking assistance both financially and in volunteers/manpower.  Unfortunately, we have never been granted flood insurance as Heritage Park is located on a flood plain. There is a tremendous amount of clean up needed to the landscaping, the buildings and the artifacts. If you or your company is willing to assist us, it would be greatly appreciated! As our Executive Director, Roseann Davidson says "Our Heritage Park is in ruins." This is a very difficult and devastating time for us as we have worked hard over the years to get the park to where it was. If you are able & willing to assist us, please emailprograms@fortmcmurrayhistory.com  Be sure to include your full name, email address & phone number(s), what you are interested in helping with and when. Please be patient, we are working remotely as our office is still closed and without power. It may take us some time to contact you but we will.  The community support has been overwhelming and amazing! Thank you for your willingness to assist us at this difficult time! _________________________________________________

One of my favourite pieces in Heritage Park is an old red fire truck, the kind of fire-engine red that gets my heart racing. Yesterday it looked like this:

This is perhaps my favourite photo from that photography session last summer. 

That's me, on the firetruck above, sitting in the sunshine surrounded by lush green grass, beauty, and history. Yesterday Heritage Park looked considerably different than in this photo, but I believe it will look this way one day again, when all the mud has been cleared away. the grass once again green, and the present - and past - back to normal. We are a resilient community, and a giving one. We value our community, our residents - and our roots, and so I believe we will ensure that the place where history lives in our community will be returned to its former glory, and be the place where we go find our past, understand our present, and plan for our future. It will need us, though. It will need us all to recognize the value of preserving history, and work towards it. For myself all I need to do is open that rosewood cedar chest in the basement, pull out a blanket, and bury my nose in it. The scent reminds me of the true importance of preserving our history, because that past is what has brought us to the present. Our history? Well, that is who we are.

Please contact

programs@fortmcmurrayhistory.com 

for further information

and to offer assistance.

A Green and Golden Opportunity - Northern Kickoff Brings the Edmonton Eskimos and the CFL to Fort McMurray in 2015

CFL.

When my boss said that acronym, those three simple letters, I saw the future. CFL, or Canadian Football League - but not in another city. Right here, in Fort McMurray, as the inaugural event at the new SMS Stadium in Shell Place. An idea to bring the Edmonton Eskimos here for their season opening exhibition game in 2015. An idea to kick off the new stadium in a game-changing style. An idea that blew the doors off conventional thought in this community. An idea whose time had come.

You see I remember a time, not that long ago, when people would have scoffed at the idea of bringing the Edmonton Eskimos to town to play. "Where would they play?", they would ask, "A high school football field?" This place has not always been a place of ideas and potential, although it was simmering under the surface even then. Something has changed over the last ten years, though, a shift in thought towards believing in the things we can do - and we believe we can do anything.

You can see it now, very clearly. You can see it in things like our city centre redevelopment plans, our new schools, our newly expanding MacDonald Island Park, where I have the honour and privilege to work. You see the ideas coming to fruition. You see the possibilities. You see the potential. You see the opportunities - in this case a "green and golden opportunity", as it has been dubbed, an opportunity to bring a team sporting the green and gold to a community where they will be welcomed with open arms.

There is something special about being in on the ground floor of an idea. To be there at the table when it is first voiced, and then to see it build. To be part of the proposal, and to see it succeed. To watch as you build toward the day it will be announced, all the while sitting on the secret. And then to arrive at the day when the secret is shared with the world, and watch the excitement that falls out of it.

But there is a great deal more to this idea than football, you see. I am, to be brutally honest, not even a huge football fan, but this is about community. How do I know this? I look back to the Northern Classic, an outdoor hockey game that has become an iconic touchstone in this community. What is interesting is that I have never actually heard anyone discuss the outcome of that game. I have no idea who won (I was unable to attend, something I deeply regret now), because while it was about the game it was fundamentally about something else. It was about the experience. It was about community. When I hear people discuss the Northern Classic what they discuss is what it was like - being there in the cold, the outdoor rink, the sense of adventure, the knowledge that they were now part of history - and so too it will be for the Northern Kickoff on June 13, 2015.

This will be the furthest north game in CFL history. It will be the first time the CFL has ever held a game of any sort in Fort McMurray. It will bring the Edmonton Eskimos and the Saskatchewan Roughriders to our community. It will be iconic. It will be history in the making, the beginning of something I am not sure we can even comprehend right now. And that is perhaps the most important part - it is just the beginning.

I am proud to be part of Shell Place and the experience of bringing this new facility to the community. I am proud to have been part of the Northern Kickoff experience too,  but again this is just the beginning. Over the next two years as Shell Place continues to take shape I will be waiting, and watching, and working towards opening day. I will keep in my head this vision I have of the field at SMS Stadium, and watching a season-opening exhibition football game that will forever alter the landscape of my community. I will, on that day, remember back to when MacDonald Island Park was one rink, and a few curling sheets, and my Intrepid Junior Blogger was three years old and just learning to skate. On a weekend in June, 2015, she will be 15 years old, and I will take her to every single event on the Northern Kickoff weekend. She will be part of an iconic, history-making experience in a place that has grown just as she has, and that has been part of our lives since she was so very tiny. She will enjoy the "green and golden opportunity" of seeing the Edmonton Eskimos take on the Saskatchewan Roughriders in her home city - and she will very likely always carry that memory with her, just as I will. And she will know that her city - her hometown, not a boomtown - is a place of excitement, opportunity, potential, and belief.

This is why I live here, you see. This is why I have chosen to stay in Fort McMurray, even when recently we had the opportunity to leave. It is because the IJB and I have our own green and golden opportunity here, not just to see the Eskimos but to be in a place where that is even something that is dreamt of - and then brought to life. We have the golden opportunity to be part of those things, those ideas, and to be part of a community where we can watch an idea blossom into reality - and even, if we choose, be part of the experience of making it happen.

This isn't just about football, folks. Yes, it's a football game, a CFL game, and it's huge and I am tremendously excited and it will make history and I will learn some football basics so I don't make a fool of myself at the game - but it's about so much more. It's about dreams, and ideas, and beliefs, and potential, and opportunity. It's about all the things that make this community who we are - and we are, in the end, one of the most remarkable places I have ever experienced in my life. On June 13, 2015, you will have the chance to be part of history when the Edmonton Eskimos hit the field in the new SMS Stadium at Shell Place. But it won't just be football history made that day - it will be community history, and the beginning of a new era in Fort McMurray, where we know that anything truly is possible under these vast northern lights in this lush boreal forest. It will  be just the start of a new chapter in the history of Fort McMurray.

Hold on to your hats, people - the ride has begun. The future awaits, and it is going to be a helluva ride. Today it is heralded by the announcement of a football game - but the question that begs to be asked is: "What will tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, bring?" - because anything, truly anything, is possible. And we have just seen the beginning.

The video below relates to another sport, I know. But when I was thinking of a song to sum all of this up, this was it. Tom Cochrane actually played here at MacDonald Island Park, on a temporary outdoor stage on the field where Shell Place is now being constructed. We are, in Fort McMurray, on the verge of something. We are joining the big leagues, in every conceivable way. And it starts now.

The Northern Kickoff

will take place

on June 13, 2015 at

SMS Stadium,

Shell Place,

Fort McMurray, Alberta - 

the proud home of

 possibility, potential, and opportunity.

 

TEDx Fort McMurray: My Shift in Thought

The IJB and her mom

 

I am standing on the stage, rooted to the round red carpet. Even though during rehearsal I was told not to do it I look beseechingly into the wings, almost begging MC Matt Youens to rescue me. I feel like a kindergarten child, told not to move until I am given permission, and while the moment is amazing it is overwhelming me in every way. Finally Matt comes out of the wings at the Suncor Energy Centre for the Performing Arts and hugs me, and I leave the stage. I have just finished my presentation at TEDx Fort McMurray: Shift in Thought – and I am speechless, having left all my words on the stage.

I wrote a couple of days ago about the build-up to TEDx – the hours of preparation, and the work involved. I wrote about auditioning and the journey with my fellow presenters. It all culminated in a day I will never forget, a day I was honoured to share with the Intrepid Junior Blogger.

We arrived early Saturday morning, and while the day before during the dress rehearsal I had been nervous, on Saturday I was instead quite excited – but with calm nerves. I took the IJB’s photo in front of the big red X outside the doors, of course, and then we entered to find our nametags and register and begin our day.

It is remarkable, all the things the TEDx organizing committee managed to arrange for that day. There was the Baby X photo booth, and Speaker’s Corner, built all from recyclable materials by my dear friend Ashley (@ashcakesquiggle on Twitter). I had followed her building journey on Instagram, and I knew the hours she had put into an amazing finished piece where people could pause and record their thoughts from the day. There was the blackboard where you could write some words that inspire you, and, perhaps most intriguing of all, an adult ball pit called “Take a Seat and Make a Friend”, where you got in with a stranger and asked each other some prepared questions (or better yet went off-script and just talked). The IJB and I, however, dove into the delicious muffins and dropped my things backstage, and then went to find seats for the day.

Speaker's Corner



We chose seats a couple of rows from the front of stage, because I wanted to be close enough to see and feel every nuance of the other presentations – from those individuals who had become my friends. The IJB and I settled in, and the morning started with amazing artist Lucie Bause, musician Dave Martin, and theatre guru Claude Giroux. I am not going to tell you about their presentations in this post, as I would rather save my thoughts for when their YouTube videos are ready to be watched. All I will say for now is that I was so proud of each of them, as I had seen them in rehearsal and I know the work they put in. It was an incredible start to an incredible day, and as I watched them I reflected on my moment on that stage to come later on. Our day of shifting thought had begun.

Take a Seat and Make a Friend Ball Pit



During the break the IJB and I got our photo done with Baby X, and I recorded a bit in Speaker’s Corner – and then we headed to the ball pit, where the IJB was the very first one to meet a stranger while immersed in small plastic balls. Then it was my turn, and I climbed in with a beautiful young woman, and found what was likely my favourite moment of the entire experience.

You see the young woman, Bianca, is new to this community. We talked about a lot of things, but one of the things we touched on is finding your place here. I advised her to find her niche, and to use it as an entry into the community. Just five minutes with her told me that she would quickly find her place here, and that we were lucky to have her because she is one of those people you immediately know will make a difference wherever they are. I have thought about that moment many times since, that conversation with Bianca, and whenever I do I smile because it is perhaps the moment that is most true to what I want to do here – share my love of this community, and find ways to connect with others in it.

We returned to the darkened theatre for Act II, which saw Liane Lefsrud, Kevin McNiff, and Alanna Bottrell hit the stage. I was again so proud of them, and delighted to see three more presenters – and friends – find their stride and own that little round red carpet. They delivered their thoughts in front of a tremendous stage set backdrop, one even the IJB commented on as impressive, and they connected with their audience, including me.

And then it was lunch time, a lunch packed in reusable containers in picnic baskets, and designed to introduce you to strangers. The IJB and I ended up at a table with three others, one I know well (fellow blogger and new Director of the Arts Council Wood Buffalo Russell Thomas), and we shared thoughts on the day thus far (as well as some delicious picnic fare, food that was the perfect fit for the day, and obviously lovingly prepared).

After lunch we headed backstage where I changed into the clothes I would wear to present, including my self-designed, custom-made shoes from Australia (more on those in a later post, too!), and snuck back into the theatre for Act III.

Act III focused on Amie Dawe and Brent Hughes, who both spoke about a shift in thought of the more practical nature, and compelling ones at that. Once again I found myself proud and pleased, although now I was also something else. I was nervous.

After Brent finished I led the IJB outside, and I hugged her. I found my coach Joelle, and we headed backstage. The lovely Ruby, our volunteer make-up artist, applied some basic shade to my no-doubt pale with fear face, and I kept up my usual patter of jokes and nonsense, hiding some very real nerves. Sean, the very calm theatre technician, helped me mike up – and then it was backstage in the wings with Rolando and Joelle, to wait for Matt to introduce me.

I don’t know how to describe that moment as I waited in the wings alone, collecting myself. I don’t even recall what Matt said when he introduced me, or walking out on that stage. I do recall looking up into the audience and catching sight of two familiar faces that gave me courage, and then launching into the twelve minutes that I had never written down.

Yes, I had never written that speech down, not even before I auditioned. Someone asked me how long it took me to write the speech, and while I said I had never written it that isn’t really true, I guess. The real answer is that I have been writing that speech my entire life, because it is, in the end, the narrative of my life.

I am not going to tell you what I said. I will share the video when it is ready, and I will tell you then a bit more about it. To be honest, though, I remember very little of my time on the stage, although I am told I hit all my key messages, and spoke clearly. I was so in the moment, though, that I have very little recollection of it...until the final moment when I finished and the unexpected happened. I said thank you, and the audience began to clap – and rise to their feet.

I have never experienced a standing ovation. I had not cried until that point, had not felt the sting of tears, until I saw people rising from their seats to applaud. I was overwhelmed, and began to look longingly into the wings, wishing for Matt to rescue me, but he refused, ensuring that I enjoyed that moment.

When I left the stage it was to find hugs and kind words from my coach and Rolando, and then quickly backstage to kind words from those gathered there. I stopped quickly in Speaker's Corner to record my very raw and fresh thoughts (and I have absolutely no recollection of what I said, so I desperately want to see that video, too). My coach and I snuck back into the theatre to catch the presentation from the adorable Katie Long, and the final presentation from Jenny Berube, who elicited another standing ovation with her inspiring words.

And then it was over. It was done. Weeks of hard work by all involved. One final day, one moment on the stage. I went backstage with the IJB and collected my things, exchanging goodbyes and hugs. I drove home with the IJB and she wandered off, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And my thoughts? They centred on gratitude.

Gratitude for the opportunity. Gratitude for being able to share the day with the IJB. Gratitude for all who worked so hard to make TEDx Fort McMurray happen. Gratitude for an audience of my peers, community members, who seemed to find some value in what I brought to the stage that day. Gratitude for my fellow presenters, who had become friends along the way. Gratitude especially, though, for a few moments in a ball pit with a young woman seeking her place here, and being able to share with her that community is what you make of it, and something you can create. That was perhaps my real gratitude moment, a moment that reminded me of what this journey over the last two years has been about.

Summing up the TEDx experience is very difficult for me, as it encompasses so many things from the very personal to the very technical. In the end all I can say is that the journey meant far more than I ever anticipated, and that I believe it has been yet another life-altering experience in a string of life-altering experiences. I cannot wait to share the videos with you soon, so you can see all the presenters and what they brought to the stage that day. And I cannot wait to watch my own video, as my recollection of those twelve minutes is so fuzzy that it will almost be like living it for the first time. What I can say is this: the experience of being a TEDx presenter has changed me. It was another step in a long journey, and it was the kind of chance that humbles me. It brought new people into my life, new ideas – and a new memory of weeks leading up to a day I will never forget. It was one I will keep deep in my heart. It was so much more than a day of “ideas worth sharing” – it was a day of people worth sharing with. Robert Frost once wrote “I took the path less travelled by, and that has made all the difference”. On Saturday I took a path I had never travelled before – and it will, I believe, make all the difference, and forever change my life. It was, in the end, a shift in thought.

My amazing coach Joelle and I

 

How fitting that they showed a video

with words from one of my heroes:

Carl Sagan

 

My sincere gratitude to:

 

TEDx organizing committee and volunteers

for giving me the opportunity

and bringing TEDx to Fort McMurray

 

Staff at Suncor Energy Centre

for the Performing Arts

for a technically flawless day and

their beautiful theatre venue

 

The volunteers who did make-up,

built things like ball pits

and Speaker's Corner,

and created an experience

 

The audience who came and

explored a shift in thought

 

But most of all

the Intrepid Junior Blogger,

 my Sam,

for being the reason

I decided to tell the story at all.

 

Flooding and Schadenfreude

Schadenfreude. When my father used it for the first time I questioned him about the meaning, because it is German in origin and while he spoke German I do not. He explained to me that there is no equivalent word in the English lexicon, which is a shame since it is such an expressive phrase. You see schadenfreude is the word used to describe the act of taking joy in the misery of others. And it seems recently some were expressing schadenfreude when my community experienced a flood – and they decided it was some sort of natural or divine retribution for our industrial activities.

It is the Westborough Baptist Church approach to natural disasters – blame those who are already suffering, and find a way to make them the authors of their own fate. Ignore any other factors, and find a way to either blatantly or covertly imply that it is, in the end, their own fault. And I resoundingly reject this, because no matter what anyone thinks of our industry the suggestion that we, as people, deserve to suffer because of it is deeply offensive.

We are talking about homes, here, and the lives of people. We are talking about families being evacuated, and we are talking about flooding that has damaged not just buildings but the fabric of our community. We are talking about the potential for health risks from water that now requires boiling (in some areas of my community, those most affected by the flooding). We are not talking about industry – we are discussing community. MY community.

It made me think of a story I was told some time ago. A local man was driving down highway 63, just outside city limits, when he spotted a car with the hood up, the international signal for car trouble. He stopped and found two young women who were in dire straights, their car having run out of gas, and strangers to our community. He offered assistance, which they gratefully accepted. That’s when they told him they were budding and enthusiastic environmentalists, and their goal was to shut down the oil sands industry.

He winked at me at this point of his tale, because you see he happens to work in the very industry these young women hoped to shut down. I asked him what he did next, thinking surely he would have driven away and left them to fend for themselves. But no. That’s not what he did.

He got on his cellphone, and called two friends. One he asked to bring some gas, and the other he asked to stop at Tim Horton’s for coffee and donuts, as the young women seemed cold and hungry. He spoke to them while they waited, and they shared some stories, him never telling them where he worked or how he supports his family. He told me he never mentioned the irony in them running out of gas on the way to shut down the oil sands, and that he never mentioned the irony of them being in a car at all.

His friends arrived, and they gassed up the car and provided the young women with food and hot coffee, and bid them goodbye. And I think this story is remarkable for one reason - he put aside his reaction to what their intent was, and instead focused on their humanity, and their immediate dilemma. He did not engage in schadenfreude.

It’s easy to practice schadenfreude, but I will say this bluntly: if you take joy in the misery of others there is something fundamentally wrong with you. Think what you like about our industry and our jobs – but recognize that bad things happen simply because they happen, not because they are some form of retribution. If you wish condemn our industry, but remember that there are people working in that industry and living in this community, and they do not deserve to suffer floods, fires, or other fates because of their employment. This is about people, not industry, and if you dare suggest to me that we “deserve” to be flooded because of our role in greenhouse gas emissions or any other such issue I will very likely slot you in with the members of the Westborough Baptist Church (and as a side benefit you may see the top of my head blow off as I dissolve into a seething ball of rage at your audacity).

There is a reason I explained schadenfreude at the beginning of this post. There is another term, much easier to comprehend and much easier to translate into any language. The word is “compassion”, and those who indulge in schadenfreude should perhaps dig deep in their own hearts and find it. One day they may find they could use some compassion too, like two young women stranded on a roadside, rescued by kind strangers who put aside the desire for schadenfreude in favour of compassion.

A Flood of Community

Today I was going to write Part Two of my TEDx experience, but that has been pre-empted. It will be written about one day soon, but something else has washed it away a bit, and is a bit more pressing. As much as I enjoyed my TEDx experience and as much as I want to share it this is more important, because this isn't about me. This is about the community, and about our resilience, and our generousity. This is about a flood.

Photo credit to McMurray Aviation

When it first began raining a few days ago I was delighted. We needed the rain to quell the forest fire fears, and to bring some fresh green into the forest. But then it kept raining. And raining. And raining. Suddenly I was making jokes about going home to build an ark, and trying to choose which two of the three ferrets would be allowed in for the ride. But then it suddenly wasn't funny anymore. Highway closures due to washouts were quickly followed by evacuations in Anzac. Lion's Park began to flood, and water began to creep into Heritage Park. I was aghast, thinking of the rich history and heritage in those buildings. And it just kept getting worse.

Photo credit to KAOS 91.1

Photo credit to KAOS 91.1

Photo credit to McMurray Aviation

Photo credit to McMurray Aviation

Water began creeping into Keyano, too, the Syncrude Sport and Wellness Centre finding itself under a deluge of water. The picture of the basketball court made me want to cry, that beautiful hardwood floor under inches of dirty brown water. The lobby I have been in so many times, covered in that river water, and the rest of that facility becoming subject to something they could not control - nature.

Photo credit to Rock 97.9

Photo credit to KAOS 91.1

Photo credit to Russell Thomas

Photo credit to Russell Thomas

Photo credit : unknown source

The evacuation notices made my heart pound, because I have been on a short wildfire evacuation notice, and I know how it feels, how your head throbs and your heart feels sick to leave your home when you do not know what you will return to. I predicted the boil water advisory before it happened, knowing that increased water in the system could compromise water safety and purity. The power outages, the traffic jams, the eroded river banks, the fear...I knew it would all happen. But I knew something else, too. I knew how this community, this place where we embrace philanthropy, this place where we build community, would come together to fight the tide.

Photo credit to KAOS 91.1

Perhaps we could not physically push back the water, but we could sandbag, and we could offer our assistance. I saw offers of places to stay for those displaced by evacuation, and I saw people asking how they could help, in what small way they could serve others who were affected by this cruel act of nature.

Photo credit to KAOS 91.1

Photo credit to KAOS 91.1

I am proud to say I work at MacDonald Island Park, one of the places that has offered assistance during this time, including opening the doors to members of the Syncrude Sport and Wellness Centre so they could continue their fitness programs unimpeded by the water that now floods their beautiful home facility. But what I love is that it wasn't just Mac Island that opened those doors, but the Wood Buffalo YMCA who too offered a temporary fitness home for those athletes displaced by the floods. It is a collective effort from so many groups and organizations, all of us working for one goal - helping our community in whatever manner we can.

I have borrowed the photos in this post and credited them appropriately, as I did not wish to add to the traffic around the flooded areas. Emergency crews have enough to contend with, and do not need curious bloggers trying to capture photos. And those emergency crews deserve such gratitude and respect, as they are working tirelessly to mitigate the damage, and to keep us safe, just as our leader Mayor Blake has done, who has been communicating with the public in an open and frank manner during a difficult time.

I will be honest. I expected to one day face a crisis in this community. I imagined it would come, and that it would require us to work together. The funny thing is that I expected fire to threaten us, a wildfire that burned out of control, and not flood waters that crept up our river banks and into our homes. Fire is the flashy one, of course, all red hot and burning and fast, while water is quieter and darker and stealthier, creeping in until we are under it.

This story is not over, not even nearly. The RMWB has just declared a State of Local Emergency, a designation which indicates the severity of the situation. There is room for optimism, but too there is more rain in the forecast. All we can do now is wait, and watch - and help each other. All we can do is take care of our neighbours in whatever way we can, because we are all in this together. This is our community, and we aren't only being flooded with water. I think we are being flooded with community spirit as we band together to fight the Flood of 2013, a flood that will live in memory and history as a time of adversity - and community.

Follow real-time updates on Twitter:

@RMWoodBuffalo

@RMWBEmergMngt

Contact the RMWB directly with flooding concerns:

Citizen Inquiry Line

780-762-3639

And please, please...

stay away from all riverbanks

and waterways.

The Build-Up to TEDx Fort McMurray 2013 - and Learning to Crowd Surf

I feel like I have just run a marathon. I cannot seem to catch my breath, and my knees are shaky. I sit on the small wooden stool, unable to move as the enormity of it all has just hit me. I have just left the stage after my presentation dress rehearsal for TEDx Fort McMurray 2013, and while I have not run a physical race I have run an entire emotional racetrack, many times over, since beginning this journey.

I suppose the journey really began with the inaugural TEDx Fort McMurray last year, an event I did not attend as I was in Vancouver at the time. I followed it on Twitter and through texts from friends, and even sent a guest blogger in my place, the lovely and talented Ashley (or @ashcakesquiggle as she is known in the Twitterverse). I think the seed was planted then, the idea that maybe, just maybe I should audition - and then, this year, when the auditions were announced I decided to do it. To be honest, though, I wasn't sure what to present.

I wanted to present a story that was compelling, and relevant to others. I wanted to share a shift in thought that so profoundly shifted my own thinking that it led to a dramatic life change that I never expected. It was intensely personal, though, and I struggled with revealing so much. I wondered if vulnerability was a sign of weakness. I wondered if my story even had any value to anyone but me.

I did it though. I auditioned one bright Saturday morning, and when I saw tears in the eyes of the selection committee I knew my story had resonated with them on some level. I did not know, though, if I would be selected to present. I knew the competition would be fierce, and I did not know if my story would fit the theme for the year: "Shift in Thought". I will never forget when the email telling me that I had been selected arrived. I felt, in some strange way, validated, even though my story and knowing what has happened in my world is validation enough. I felt that maybe, just maybe, I had something to share, something of worth.

The audition and selection process was just the beginning, though. There were all the sessions with my patient and stellar coach, Joelle Wolverton, who gave freely of her time and accommodated my ridiculously unpredictable schedule to help me refine my presentation, and to focus my thoughts. We met every week in the security of my house, where I could tell the story again and again until I had it down, until I had rehearsed the narrative of my life that I know, of course, by heart, but had never really told anyone.

I rehearsed in my car as I drove to work every day, right after dropping the Intrepid Junior Blogger at school. I rehearsed in the bathtub, and before my bathroom mirror to make sure I wasn't making any funny faces while I spoke. And then the first rehearsal day arrived, and I had the chance to hear the presentations from my ten fellow presenters, those people who I suspect all went through the same fears and trepidations and hopes that I had, but perhaps in varying degrees.

I listened to them all - Lucie, Dave, Claude, Kevin, Lianne, Alanna, Amie, Brent, Katie, and Jenny - and I was so blown away I was almost speechless. Each and every one of them laid it on the stage, some with personal stories and some with stories of beliefs and ideas and communities and passions and songs. I sat in wonder as they each spoke in turn, and I discovered how badly I wanted to see each of them succeed, to find their shining moment when it all came together and they hit their stride. I left our first rehearsal day feeling that something very special was happening with this little group, and the dress rehearsal, just one day before TEDx Fort McMurray, confirmed it.

We gathered on that day, almost like old friends. We ran through our presentations, some of us experiencing stage fright and some of us breezing through. We spoke kind and encouraging words to each other, and I think we each saw that we were on a journey. For some it was a journey that they perhaps had taken before, and not a new path. For others, like me, it was so intensely new and unexpected that it had a profound impact.

I sat on the stool backstage, you see, completely overwhelmed. I had run through my speech, my story, my heart, and when it was over I fled the stage, almost running backstage, for a moment alone. It was in that moment that I knew this experience would likely be unparalleled in my life. Not only had I made new friends in my fellow presenters, but in the organizers of TEDx, like Matt and Rolando, two characters of whom I will now always be intensely fond. I had discovered a circle of support, yet another one that opened to me when I simply trusted and believed, just like others have done in the past two years.

I went home the night before TEDx to find several emails and encouraging texts from friends, and while I read them I built my courage to take the stage the next day in front of almost 200 people and tell the story of my life. There were so many kind words sent to me, but perhaps the one with the most impact was the one that simply said "be you, and leave it all on the stage" - and I knew that was what I had to do, and that vulnerability is not weakness but rather being strong enough to strip away all pretense and be authentic.

As I prepared that night, the night before I would leave it all on the stage and face some of my most significant fears, I thought of this video, which we had watched at the dress rehearsal. I realized that I too was going to do a little "crowd surfing", throwing myself into my audience and letting them catch me, something I have learned to do over the past two years, something I have embraced despite my fears that on occasion I will fall to the ground, betrayed by those I trusted. On this night, though, the night before TEDx Fort McMurray: Shift in Thought, I thought about how the next day I would crowd surf in the most vulnerable way, not with my body but with my heart - and I never imagined, never could have dreamt, how they would catch me - but that is part two of this story, and for the blog tomorrow. Until then I leave you with Amanda Palmer - and the art of asking.

A Cemetery in My Back Yard? Yes, Please.

I heard it on the radio. The RMWB has plans for a new cemetery in the Wood Buffalo neighbourhood, and apparently there are concerns about location being expressed. Some of the concerns involve the maintenance of current local cemeteries, but others seem more focused on the concept of having a cemetery in your neighbourhood. There is a certain “not in my backyard” thinking that can come into play, a “NIMBY” frame of mind. The funny thing is that when it comes to the idea of having a cemetery in my neighbourhood I have the opposite reaction. I tend to think “in my backyard, please”, because cemeteries are, in many ways, great neighbours.

When I lived in downtown Toronto I walked to work every day. It was a lovely walk, from the neighbourhood around the Don Jail into Cabbagetown – and some of it meandered through a small city cemetery. The Toronto Necropolis cemetery, established in 1850, is a lovely little green space in the middle of a very urban city. Every morning I would choose to walk through it, foregoing the surrounding city streets, because it was peaceful, and quiet, and serene.

It might surprise some that on occasion, on busy days when I needed a respite from work, I would seek out the cemetery on my noon hours, choosing to park on a bench and eat my lunch and read a book. It was so beautiful there, and aside from the occasional visitors and the occasional funeral procession the quietest place in a very busy city.

My parents are both buried in Saskatoon, in Woodlawn Cemetery, a place very centrally located. Again it is a beautiful green space, populated by jack rabbits that enjoy the vast expanse of park in which they can stretch those long legs. When I go back to the city where I grew up, and where my parents will now remain forever, I often visit that spot, and sit quietly with them. The neighbours in the area surrounding the cemetery seem untroubled by the cemetery, and I suspect they rather like it, because having a cemetery next to you is a bit like having a giant park in your neighbourhood, just without the crowds.

My thoughts are this: cemeteries are very quiet neighbours. They don’t throw noisy late night parties, they attract only small groups of people, and generally only during the day. They are inherently peaceful, and while they are reminders of a part of life we rarely speak about – death – I think they are the gentlest of reminders. Unless you are afraid of a zombie uprising I cannot think of another reason to fear a cemetery in your neighbourhood, and instead can come up with a lot of reasons to welcome it instead.

I suspect a lot of people suffer from coimetrophobia – the technical name for a fear of cemeteries. I also suspect much of that is because we in North America rarely talk about death, and yet it is something that defines our existence every single bit as much as birth. We may talk about afterlife in our churches and religions, but how many of us talk about death? Show of hands? I don’t see many hands, because it is a subject we avoid. We avoid it because it is painful, and uncertain, and because we are afraid to talk about something we often fear.

I will admit that I have always liked cemeteries. In almost every city I have been to I have visited a cemetery. I have walked in cemeteries in Montreal and Vancouver, London and Dublin. I have stopped to read headstones, and I have sat and thought about life, and death, and listened to the silence, a silence broken only by bird song. I have eaten my lunch beside a grave, and I have sat on my father’s headstone while telling him all the things that have happened in the years since he has gone. I lived for some time in Abasand, close to the cemetery there, and the Intrepid Junior Blogger and I visited it many times, wandering through and reading headstones and looking at the mementoes left by those who love the ones who rest forever there. It seems the IJB has taken on my reverence and respect for cemeteries, as she too often expresses interest in visiting them when we see those gates that surround them. She and I will wander through, and talk about the headstones, and it gently leads into a conversation about death – and life.

So, to those who may soon have a cemetery as a neighbour – I am, in fact, envious. I genuinely wish I had a cemetery close to me, close enough to wander into at will. I wish I had a neighbour that was so quiet, so peaceful, and so very much a part of our lives. I understand the concerns about maintenance, as that is a crucial issue to address – but if the concerns are about the cemetery itself, and the nature of having one as a neighbour – well, that is one concern I do not share and cannot understand. To me a cemetery is a place of peace, and quiet – a place to honour the lives of others, and a reminder to treasure every single day we have when we are above the ground, not in it.