Ch-ch-changes

There is a song that runs through my head a great deal recently. I have always been a fan of David Bowie, and thought him quite a brilliant lyricist and vocalist. And the Bowie song running through my thoughts at every turn in this community? This one:

Changes. This is what Fort McMurray is going through right now, changes large and small that will impact us in ways we cannot quite imagine yet.

Today I went and wandered around the new Shoppers Drug Mart in Stonecreek. Perhaps it shouldn't be a big deal, the opening of a new drugstore, but it is when it is in a neighbourhood that desperately needs these retail options, and when it is surrounded by a large complex that will be filled with stores and services. It seems such a small thing and yet it is a harbinger of things to come.

The recent chatter about a big box centre, the ongoing development of the City Centre, including the return of the Urban Market this summer, the rapid pace of development at Shell Place, the new  Tim Horton's in Eagle Ridge, all the news stores and services and opportunities and...well, a lot of changes.

I reconnected with someone recently that I have not spoken to since I was 19 years old and living in Saskatoon. During our discussion it turned out he had grown up in Fort McMurray, something I had not known (or at 19 had not really cared about) and when he learned I live here now said it must be "crazy up there" - and I didn't actually know what to say, because we are still in the middle of incredible growth in population. Our demographic becomes more diverse every day as new immigrants to our country choose to come to Fort McMurray to start their life in Canada. We see more babies born, more families arrive, more houses being built, more roads being finished, and more changes than I have ever seen before in a community.

I wonder at times if this is how the people felt during the Gold Rush, as change occurred at such a rapid pace they couldn't keep up. I can no longer attend all the events to which I am invited, finding myself triple booked on some nights and facing difficult choices. There are new stores I have not yet explored, and new groups I know very little about. Three years ago, when I began this blog, I found it much easier to keep track of such things, but in the intervening time the pace of growth has quickened and I have been unable to keep up. The changes, it seem, just keep coming.

It is an exciting time to live here. It is a time of challenge, too, because these changes affect the fabric of our community, and it is up to us to both direct the changes and our response to them. We need to ensure that the changes don't become a freight train that drives us, and that we instead are the engineers who drive this particular train of development and change. We have a lot in our hands right now. We hold the present of this community, and the future, and the changes we are seeing now will determine what that future will be.

This is a time of ch-ch-changes - and how amazing it is to be a witness to it, as we see the future unfurling before us every single day.

A Mother and a Daughter, A Father and a Son

You could hear a pin drop when he speaks, despite how many people are in the room. He has a mesmerizing presence, one I have seen before but one that is unfamiliar to the Intrepid Junior Blogger who stands transfixed behind him. She has somehow managed to find herself front and centre on the stage, her red hair rapidly fading to salmon pink but brightened by the red and black lace dress and red boots. I can see it on her face. She is completely enthralled.

He, of course, is Justin Trudeau, and we are at MacDonald Island Park where he is speaking to a crowd gathered to greet him and local Liberal candidate for the Fort McMurray-Athabasca by-election Kyle Harrietha. Even before he arrives there is a buzz in the room, a building energy. The crowd has come to see the leader of the federal Liberals, and to hear him speak. Some have seen him before. For many, like the IJB and I, this will be the first time to see him in person.

And when he enters there it is, the presence and charisma for which his father was known. I remember it well from my days as a child and watching Pierre Elliott Trudeau sweep onto a stage. He was controversial in many regards, as politicians always are, but no one could deny his presence or his intellect.

Intellect is what always mattered when we discussed politics when I was growing up. My father, who was deeply interested in the political world, thought staunch allegiance to any one party was foolish, and he advocated voting and supporting depending on the time, the issues and the people in the party. And like my father I have, over the course of my life, voted for candidates from every of the three major federal parties as I felt appropriate for the time and circumstances.

Justin Trudeau carries the legacy of his father, and all that entails, both good and bad. But just as my daughter is her own person separate from her mother so too is Justin, and so too he should be evaluated on his own merits as opposed to those of his famous father. This is one of those lessons my father taught me, to judge each and every person as individuals, and one of the lessons I am proud to teach my daughter.

Last night I went on Twitter to share a photo of my daughter at the event and to comment that Justin is a powerful speaker, much like his father. I was stunned by the reaction, because almost immediately I was set upon by his detractors, much like rabid dogs in their attack. One comment in particular enraged me, stating that Trudeau's support from young women proved the "shallowness" of the Liberal party. The condescension in that comment - that my child, because she is young and female, could not possibly form an intelligent or informed opinion on a political party or leader - outraged me. The ageism, the sexism, the sheer audacity to imply that she was incapable of independent thought angered me to the boiling point - because it is youth like my child who will one day lead this country, and my child is quite likely more informed about politics than some adults in our nation.

One can often tell your impact from the amount of defense you generate. No one feels the need to respond to an opponent who has no power, no impact and no influence. But when they feel the need to rise to attack (and attack not only the politician but those who are impressed by him, including young women) you know they are feeling threatened.

And so perhaps they should be. Justin Trudeau brings new life to a party that was on the precipice of disaster not so long ago. Say what you like about his ideology and politics, but one cannot deny his charm, his charisma or his presence - and one should never, never underestimate their value in politics, either.

My daughter, who at fourteen is passionate about science and politics and the world and in making a difference, believes in hope and hard work. Last night after we left the event she stopped at one of the pianos at MacDonald Island and played a bit, and as she played we chatted about what Trudeau had said. We talked about the message that Canada as a country is strong not in spite of our differences but because of them. We talked about a message of this country being an incredible place of diversity with room for all opinions and thoughts (despite those who would claim young women are not entitled to those). We talked about the future.

And then we packed up and headed home, a mother and daughter who have both been impacted by someone with a famous last name. To see her watch Justin reminded me so much of my youth spent watching transfixed as his father spoke. I recognized the look on her face, the wonder and the inspiration. I knew that this would be a pivotal experience in the journey of one young woman, because once, a long time ago, it was in my own. My daughter and I share so many things, as I learned when I reconnected this week with someone I have not seen in almost thirty years and who commented when seeing a photo of my daughter that she looked so much like me three decades ago. So too do we share the legacy of a famous Canadian family, a father and son. A mother and a daughter, a father and a son - sometimes life is a circle, and last night it circled around once more for my daughter and I as we shared yet another moment in our lives in Fort McMurray.

The Countdown Clock to 2015

I was there at the beginning, close to when this blog began in fact. I was there for the pep rally when the selection committee came to visit, and I was delighted when the announcement was finally made and we learned that in 2015 the Western Canada Summer Games were headed to Wood Buffalo. It's hard to believe that was almost three years ago, but there it is, and last week another special date passed. Last week we were exactly 500 days from the start of the games.

While I was there I am not certain even I understood what a massive undertaking this was, or what it would entail. I hadn't envisioned the army of volunteers that would be needed, or what it would mean for the concept of sport tourism in our community. I wasn't part of the experience of Shell Place or MacDonald Island yet, but as the years have passed I have become more and more immersed and learned more and more about what an incredible and exciting opportunity - and challenge - these games represent for our region.

In less than 500 days (491 days, 6 hours, 51 minutes and 55 seconds as I write this, according to the official countdown clock) we will play host to hundreds of athletes, coaches, supporters and sport fans. We will become part of history as the Western Canada Summer Games kick off and head into ten incredible days of events.

And those events? Everything from artistic gymnastics to wrestling, and all points in between. There is something on the event schedule for every fan, whether you love tennis or triathlon, badminton or baseball. The events will occur all over our region, from Gregoire Lake to Anzac, showcasing all that is best about our region ("take THAT, Neil Young", I will say when sharing photos of kayaking at the lovely Gregoire Lake Provincial Park).

What I don't think I truly realized or understood back then is that events like this change our community in so many ways. I didn't truly grasp that every visiting athlete, coach and supporter is a potential new ambassador for our region, and thus our need to ensure they have a positive experience here regardless of how they do in their athletic competitions. I didn't understand that creating that army of volunteers will require a massive mobilization of individuals who are committed to ensuring the success of every single facet of the event. I didn't understand the sheer magnitude of this kind of undertaking, and what tasks the organizing committee and all who sit on it are facing as they prepare for an event that has tremendous significance.

All I understood almost three years ago was the excitement - and it's still there.

The excitement continues to build, in fact, with every tick of the countdown clock and every day that passes. As we get closer and closer to the opening celebrations I find myself reflecting more and more on what these events truly mean. I suppose part of my new understanding has evolved as part of my professional role, but part of my understanding has also come from getting more involved in our community and in delving deeper into events such as this to see what makes them tick. And what does make them tick?

People.

People like those who sit on the organizing committee for the games. People like those who volunteer. People like the visiting athletes, coaches and supporters. People just like you and me, in fact. These events are about people, and dependent on people like us to be a success.

You can be part of it. You can visit the 2015 Western Canada Summer Games site and learn about the sports, see the event calendar, check out the countdown clock - and most importantly you can click on the link labelled "volunteer" and become part of an event that will change our region and become part of our history. I know that I will be there, because I was so very honoured to be there at the beginning, too. This event has become part of the history of this blog, my journey of life in this community and my heart.

I wouldn't miss it for the world, because it is just another one of those times when the world comes to Wood Buffalo.

World Autism Awareness Day and What it Means for Fort McMurray

Yesterday was that day when you get to find out how truly gullible all your friends are, and how many would really fall for absurd news stories - aka April Fool's. It's a day when I stay off social media for the most part, because the tomfoolery gets to be a bit much and on occasion I wince when I see people taken in by transparently false stories (and that's when I realize how snake oil salesmen have made their fortunes, both in the past and the present). But today is a new day, and with it comes a new theme - because today is World Autism Awareness Day.

When I was growing up autism wasn't even a word that I knew, let alone a recognized issue in child development. Oh, there were undoubtedly children and adults who were autistic, but we had other words and labels we used, ones that we now recognize as being both woefully inaccurate and demeaning to those afflicted with autism. Things have changed over the decades and our understanding of autism and the autistic spectrum has widened - but are we truly aware of it until it touches our lives? I suppose I am not so certain.

I would suggest that most parents are familiar with a child with autism now. I suppose that is because autism affects 1 in 68 children in our country.

One out of 68 children. That is an astonishing number. This is from Autism Speaks Canada:

·         Autism now affects 1 in 68 children.

·        Boys were almost 5 times more likely to be identified with ASD than girls. About 1 in 42 boys and 1 in 189 girls were identified with ASD.

·        This new estimate is roughly 30% higher than the estimate for 2008 (1 in 88), roughly 60% higher than the estimate for 2006 (1 in 110), and roughly 120% higher than the estimates for 2002 and 2000 (1 in 150). 

·         Most children identified with ASD were not diagnosed until after age 4, even though children can be diagnosed as early as age 2.

·        There is no known cure for autism

It seems no wonder that autism has touched most of our lives, either through our own children or the children of family, friends or coworkers. We understand so much more about it now, but with each new understanding comes the realization of how little we actually know. There is no known cure, and there is no definitive cause, although there are many theories. What I do know is this: autistic children and their parents need our support.

When I served on parent council at a local school we developed the funds to provide the autistic children in our school with a sensory room, a facility proven to have beneficial effects for children on the spectrum. It was a proud accomplishment, but clearly not enough as we still struggle in this community to provide the support and facilities needed for children on the autism spectrum - and as the number shows above the rate of autism is increasing. In a community known for a incredible birth rate this means our numbers of autistic children will also climb, meaning even more demand for services and supports for those children and their families - and we will need to be ready to meet them.

Today I ask you to do one thing. Just sit down and read one article about autism. Learn something you did not know before, and understand that autism is impacting our world and our lives through the sheer number of individuals affected. It has profound implications for our health care system, our education system and the fellow community members who deal with it every day because their lives have been impacted much more directly than our own.

Yesterday was April Fool's and a day for trickery. Today is World Autism Awareness Day and a day for understanding and learning. I hope every single one of us expends the same kind of effort on learning about autism that we did on playing pranks or reading bogus news stories - because 1 in 68 children in our country is relying on us to do so.

Go Home Winter. You're Drunk.

I rarely use material in this blog that I have written for other outlets as it always feels like "cheating", but this morning on the last day of March when I woke up and looked at the temperature outdoors I realized this is every bit as relevant as when I published it in Connect Weekly some time ago. Let's hope April arrives with spring in her Easter basket, shall we?

I am in fact just ready for it to be over. It is astonishing how the excitement I felt in the fall over the first gentle snowflakes has now become a dread of looking outdoors and seeing fresh snow on the driveway. What once filled me with wonder now fills me with a sense of impending doom as I head out to shovel, again, and clean off the car, again. Winter, it seems, will just never, ever end.

 I think it is perhaps the hallmark of being a western Canadian that we have this love/hate relationship with winter. Nobody feels this way about any other season. Summer is glorious and I have never heard anyone wish the long days and sunny skies would just be over already. Fall is the time of crisp autumn leaves and spring is the time when green shoots and buds begin to appear, and no one begrudges those seasons. But winter, oh winter, how it seems to have gone on forever when March finally rolls around, and how burdened we seem by our heavy coats and mittens and toques.

Those first snowflakes often fill us with glee, having us running to our sheds to grab toboggans and get our skis and skates in order. The charm lasts for awhile, too, with most of us relishing the bright lights of the holidays contrasted against the fresh white snow – but as the weeks and months wear on the charm begins to fade, like a house guest who stayed too long, drank too much wine and now refuses to take a hint.

Go home, winter. You’re drunk – or so we think to ourselves, a season drunk on its own power and longevity and ability to drive us insane with the unpredictability of the season. We have had enough of this houseguest and we are ready to fluff up the pillows and welcome a new one, a guest who comes with a gentler personality and a promise of an even warmer guest to follow. But winter, well, it just isn’t always ready to leave.

We watch the temperature like hawks, seeing every increase in the digits give rise to our spirits while any dip, no matter how temporary, feels like a curtain of doom falling across our hopes. We watch the skies for patches of blue and for glimpses of sun, hoping against hope that this will be the day when it finally breaks and winter decides to begin to retreat, exiting quietly stage left while spring arrives stage right.

How fickle we are, really, the same ones who welcomed the season with excitement now anxiously waiting for it to depart so we can slam the door and turn all the locks, preventing its return. But so it is our nature, and so it has always been.

Spring is coming, and while we know it is inevitable we cannot help but sigh and moan about the slow departure of that “other season”, the guest we once invited in but now are giving the bum’s rush out the door in favour of a new arrival. And, when spring arrives and winter has faded we will not miss it, will not likely reminisce on how wonderful it was and how we wish it would come back…until the fall, when once again we watch the skies for the signs of the first snowflake drifting down gently, landing on our nose perhaps and making us smile.

Go home winter. You’re drunk. Go home and sober up and give us a little break and then come back again next fall, when we have forgotten your trials and tribulations and are ready to welcome you back once again. It was lovely having you as a guest, and we know you will return – but we are ready now for your departure and a new season filled with opportunities and promise.

 

    

Hope and Hard Work in Fort McMurray

We are headed into yet another election in this region, after what seems an endless series of elections. Two years ago we saw the provincial election, in the fall of 2013 we went through a contentious and hard-fought municipal election and now, thanks to our former MP who resigned rather abruptly for reasons unknown, we face a federal by-election.

One could get worn down by these ceaseless elections, I suppose, three in less than three years and all promising to have significant impact on our community - but this last one is perhaps the most intriguing, because things that were once taken for granted in this region are not quite so certain any longer.

On Thursday of this week this man is coming to town:

And in my mind he could well be a game-changer for this country. Justin Trudeau, the son of Pierre Elliott Trudeau and Margaret Trudeau, has a distinguished pedigree, no doubt, but he is also bringing new energy and new life to a party that not so long ago was in dire straights. Not everyone is a fan of Justin, or of the Liberal party - but in my household he is pretty much a superstar where the Intrepid Junior Blogger adores him with the intensity other teen girls reserve for that "other" famous Canadian named Justin.

I will not hide that I was a fan of his father's growing up, and in fact I always admired both his parents for their intelligence, their strength of character and personality. I was, much like the IJB, always keenly interested in politics, and politicians who could combine intelligence, charisma and a genuine interest in leaving the world a better place than they found it always captured me. I believe PET was one of those politicians, and Justin seems to have followed in his father's footsteps in some regards - but in others he is very much his own man, too.

The local Liberal Party of Canada has now chosen their candidate in Kyle Harrietha, well known in the region for his political savvy and his understanding of the needs and issues of this region. There are others in the running now too, Tim Moen of the Libertarian Party (and someone who is both a friend and a bit of a political wunderkind, having garnered a significant amount of attention from across North America as he presents a libertarian approach to politics), and Lori McDaniel of the New Democratic Party. The candidate for the Conservatives is as of yet undetermined, but one can only hope that they focus less on creating crossword puzzles about the colour of their hair (don't even get me started on the egregious waste of tax payer dollars our previous MP engaged in while serious issues in this region went unaddressed) and more on convincing us to vote Conservative in this region - because I do think we will need some convincing after years in which the federal government has engaged in some neglect of our region.

There is a great deal of lip service being paid to this being the economic engine of the country, perhaps the most important part of our economy as a nation, and yet woefully little has been done by the federal government in recent years to convince us they believe in our importance. Their input in this region has been shamefully lacking, and their tenure here has recently been marked by inactivity and even hindrance of progress as seen in the debacle surrounding the transfer of the land at Willow Square. I think a sense of complacency has set in, and I have heard that our Prime Minister will not even deign to come here during this by-election campaign, a crucial election for our region - and I think that is very telling. If our national leader cannot come to the "economic engine" of the country during a critical election regarding the future of our region what does this say about our true value and importance in the eyes of the federal government? What does that say about how they view us, and if they might take us just a wee bit for granted?

Here's the deal, people. This election matters, and the future of our region matters. I am not going to tell you how to vote. I am not going to tell you how I am going to vote. I am going to say that I am tired of lip service about our importance and our value and a lack of action backing up that chatter. I am going to listen to the candidates, meet with them and do my best to weigh our options. 

I must say, though, that as a writer one of the most compelling campaign slogans I have ever heard is the one from the Liberals: "Hope and hard work". You see, hope and hard work is what political campaigns are all about, and I know this well first hand. But hope and hard work is what this region is all about, too, hope for the future and our families and our lives, and the hard work we put into making this a better place every single day. In fact I don't know if there is a place in this country where there is more hope, and where there is more hard work being invested every single day into continuing to be the economic engine of this country. I know I go into this election with hope and hard work, and whatever the eventual outcome is I know we will continue to hope - and to work hard to make this the best place in the country to call home. This election, you see, is just one more chance to combine hope and hard work in Fort McMurray.

The Callous Nature of a Hit and Run

Early this morning a man, his identity as of yet unknown, was the victim of a hit and run collision that took his life. I won't speculate on the details of his demise, except to say that it is tragic and heartbreaking and that someone, somewhere is going to get some devastating news today indicating that someone they love is never coming home again. There is a lot to be said about the callousness of a  driver who could hit a human being and drive away as if they hit a bag of trash, leaving them there on the road to die alone, but today I won't even write about that as the anger is still too hot to touch. Instead today I write about those individuals who had the audacity to complain on social media that they were delayed in their travels because the RCMP had to shut down the road in order to investigate a collision that claimed a life. Today I write about the cold and callous lack of compassion that seems to dwell in the hearts of some.

I have heard it before, of course, when tragic accidents have shut down the highway for hours as the RCMP picked up the debris and investigated the collision. I understand the inconvenience of being delayed and stopped in traffic, as it has happened to me, too - but how fortunate we are to be the ones safe in our cars and simply inconvenienced as opposed to the ones who lie dead on a highway. How lucky we are to be alive to complain about the delay and bemoaning how slow the police are at doing their jobs. How very fortunate we are to be the ones who are alive, and how we should hope that we will not be on the receiving end of that phone call or visit from the RCMP and learn that it is our loved one who is never coming home again.

I will never, ever understand those who can complain about an inconvenience at a time when someone has died. The callousness of that, the lack of compassion, shows that perhaps we have been fortunate enough to never have such tragedy touch our lives. It has never been one of our family or friends lying in tangled wreckage or crumpled on a road. It has never been someone we loved, and we have never gotten that phone call or visit. How lucky we are, and how shallow our complaints at the inconvenience we face when we are delayed.

It saddens me to see the sort of callousness I witnessed this morning. It is the kind of attitude that rips at the fabric of our community, and that shows a dark side of our humanity, one that does not reflect well on us in any way. It makes us seem as if we do not care, as if we do not understand the value of human life and the nature of compassion. It is a sad commentary on a tragedy which has seen someone die alone on a highway, and an even more sad commentary on those who would complain about the inconvenience of their having done so. It is the callous nature of a hit and run, and it seems, sadly, that the callousness and lack of compassion isn't limited to the hit and run driver alone. How tragic indeed.