I am privileged to get a lot of invitations. I get invited to galas and parties, dinners and press conferences. It isn't all the time that I get invited to speak about blogging and writing, though, which is why the invitation from the Grade 4L class at Westview Public School was exceptionally special to me.
There are a few things I am passionate about: my kid, this community, my writing...and youth in general, because I think our youth have such incredible potential. I am always amazed at the way they think, and the chance to speak to them about writing was an opportunity I could not miss, which is how I found myself in front of a class of fourth graders for 30 minutes first thing this morning.
I was extraordinarily pleased when two of the students met me at the front office and escorted me to the classroom, chatting as we went. I was honoured at how excited the class seemed to be, and we immediately launched into a back and forth conversation on blogging, writing and the world in general.
Their teacher, Ms. Tebay, had contacted me a couple of months ago to ask if I would be willing to read the blog the students had been contributing to over the course of the year. I said yes, of course, and I read every single entry, commenting as I went. Their blogs were of the best kind, a blend of fiction and fact and stories of their lives. In every single entry I could see budding writers, and I could see that they were developing an appreciation of the written word.
This morning the students and I talked a lot about blogging, and about how you can blog about any subject you can imagine. I told them about my friends who blog about fashion or hockey or cars. I shared with them the fact that you can blog about anything you like and how it is all about telling stories. We talked about engaging readers through asking questions and sharing photos and videos. It was a far reaching conversation about the world of blogging, and the kind I rarely have the chance to participate in.
They were ready with questions, and they peppered me with them as we went. They asked about how and where I get my ideas (everywhere!) and I shared with them how I keep a notebook to jot down story ideas that come to me out of the blue so I don't forget them. We talked about how different things inspire different people, and one student asked how I deal with "negativity". I shared with them that as long as I am happy with what I have written then I can stand by it proudly and even if others disagree I can be content that I know I have done my best and been true to myself (at which point one student exclaimed "Believe in yourself!" - such wisdom from a nine-year old).
It was a pretty active little conversation as we covered topics from writing to cats to pet fish to how we came to be in Fort McMurray. We spoke a lot about storytelling, and about how that is really what writing is, and I shared with them my adventures in professional writing, including being published in newspapers and magazines. I laughed when one asked if I am "famous", a suggestion I denied, and I told them that writing isn't about seeking fame but just about writing for the love of writing and because you want to share the stories.
I must admit that by the end of it I was delighted by how excited they all seemed to be to do more blogging and more writing, and I suggested some of them start thinking about submitting poems and stories to places like Northword Magazine. I told them about the joys of being published, and about how not every piece you write will be published (and we even talked about editors and editing, too). We covered a wide range of the experience of writing, and while I hope they were inspired I think I was the one who was truly inspired.
When you have been writing for a long time you can lose a bit of your drive and inspiration - and yes, the negativity can get you down. Sharing my love for what I do with a class of Grade Four students had a more profound impact on me than I anticipated, because it reminded me of why I write at all - to share stories, and simply for the joy of writing. Seeing their excitement, answering their questions and talking to them about their writing and their interests renewed my own spirit.
I made the students an offer, too. I told them that if they wanted to write something I would share it here on this blog, and so in the coming weeks you might see some posts from some young people in our community who are just beginning their adventure in writing - and in life. I hope you will join me in encouraging and welcoming them, just as they welcomed me this morning to their classroom.
To Ms. Tebay and ALL the students in 4L at Westview I want to say a sincere thank you for being such gracious hosts this morning, and for sharing their stories with me - because their stories have reminded me of how very fortunate I am to share my own with you on this blog every single day. It was the best start to a day I have had for a very, very long time, and it was all because of an unusual invitation, and an exceptional group of young students - and bloggers.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Single, White and Female in Fort McMurray
I have lost count of all the interviews I have done about Fort McMurray in the last year. From journalists to film-makers, I have talked with a string of people about our community, our triumphs and our issues. One of the intriguing developments, though, has been the recent focus some of these interviews have been taking - and it's all about being a woman in Fort McMurray.
I have done a few interviews now that are taking the angle of "life as a woman in Fort McMurray". I suppose the journalists are being inspired by the fact that there does seem to be some gender disparity here, with our population more heavily weighted to those of the masculine gender than the feminine. Apparently this is a topic of some interest in some circles, and hence the interviews and subsequent articles - and yet the funny thing is that as a woman living in Fort McMurray I rarely think about it at all.
The questions I am asked are often the same, particularly now that I am a single woman in Fort McMurray.
Do I feel isolated? Um, no. I live with a teenage kid, a dog, a cat and three ferrets. I work at what might be the busiest place on the planet other than Disney, have a full circle of friends, freelance work and spend my time doing things to improve life for my kid, myself and my community. In order to feel isolated I would have to have 5 minutes to actually be alone, which hasn't happened in recent memory and actually sounds rather lovely given that I can't even go to the bathroom at home without a dog, a cat and a kid shouting at me from the other side of the door. Isolated? I wish.
Do I feel outnumbered by men? Well, I suppose I could if I looked at it that way, along some great gender divide. Actually I feel outnumbered by people in general, there are so many of them and just one of me! I also happen to work in a place where there are a lot of women, I have many female friends, I live with a young woman...no, I don't feel outnumbered, at least not in any sense that matters.
Are there any unusual challenges in being a woman in Fort McMurray? Well, other than the fact that there isn't a Nine West shoe store and I need to do most of my shoe shopping online, no. The challenges here for women are much the same as the challenges for men here - high housing costs can be difficult to address, no matter your gender. It could be a lonely place if you didn't get involved and meet people. And I suppose if you were focused on gender then it might seem a bit weird to be in a place that is predominantly male - except that I have never viewed that world across that gender divide, and to be honest the gender disparity is something I have rarely even noticed. It is, as they say, what it is.
As a single woman here do I still have hope? I must admit this particular question rather floored me, as I was tempted to respond that I was in fact hopeless and planned to slit my wrists immediately after the interview. Instead, though, I would say the odds are in favour of single women here given the gender disparity (but then again in order to date one would need five minutes free from kid, dog, cat and ferrets, so I can't comment too much on this angle as my other commitments preclude much other than the occasional attempt to get more than 5 hours of sleep). And then too there is the assumption that life is all about dating and finding love, when in my house life is more about trying to figure out if it is the dog, the cat or the washing machine that is responsible for the ridiculous number of missing socks.
What is intriguing about this community is the opportunity. I have met so many women here who are pursuing careers that may not be considered the norm, trades in which they may struggle in other places. I have met so many women who advance quickly in their chosen profession, because this is a place that needs those with talent, ambition and drive. I have met women here who may struggle a bit to find their place initially, but once they find it they discover what a remarkable place it is regardless of your gender, because the potential and opportunities are truly endless.
Once again this last week rumours surfaced of a producer interested in creating a "real housewives of Fort McMurray" style show, which is at least the third time I know someone has floated the idea in the last three years, as well as various other "reality" show ideas about "single life" in Fort McMurray. The reality of theses reality shows, though, is that the lives of women here, and men, are no different than the lives of men and women everywhere.
We go to work, we come home, we play with our kids, we walk our dog, we make supper, we chauffeur our kids to events, we go to see movies, we visit our library, we attend concerts, we participate in sports, we go the mall, we go out for coffee, we meet friends for dinner and we volunteer. We are married, single, divorced and widowed. We have kids or we have dogs or we have cats (or none of the above, or all of the above, plus some weasels). We drive cars or we take buses. We own houses, rent houses, rent apartments or live in condos. We are the women of Fort McMurray, and we are truly no different than women anywhere else, except perhaps that we get a lot of questions about what it's like to be a woman in Fort McMurray - and I suppose in that regard we may be slightly different indeed.
So, that's my synopsis of life as a single white female in Fort McMurray. And for the record, yes, I still have hope ;)
I have done a few interviews now that are taking the angle of "life as a woman in Fort McMurray". I suppose the journalists are being inspired by the fact that there does seem to be some gender disparity here, with our population more heavily weighted to those of the masculine gender than the feminine. Apparently this is a topic of some interest in some circles, and hence the interviews and subsequent articles - and yet the funny thing is that as a woman living in Fort McMurray I rarely think about it at all.
The questions I am asked are often the same, particularly now that I am a single woman in Fort McMurray.
Do I feel isolated? Um, no. I live with a teenage kid, a dog, a cat and three ferrets. I work at what might be the busiest place on the planet other than Disney, have a full circle of friends, freelance work and spend my time doing things to improve life for my kid, myself and my community. In order to feel isolated I would have to have 5 minutes to actually be alone, which hasn't happened in recent memory and actually sounds rather lovely given that I can't even go to the bathroom at home without a dog, a cat and a kid shouting at me from the other side of the door. Isolated? I wish.
Do I feel outnumbered by men? Well, I suppose I could if I looked at it that way, along some great gender divide. Actually I feel outnumbered by people in general, there are so many of them and just one of me! I also happen to work in a place where there are a lot of women, I have many female friends, I live with a young woman...no, I don't feel outnumbered, at least not in any sense that matters.
Are there any unusual challenges in being a woman in Fort McMurray? Well, other than the fact that there isn't a Nine West shoe store and I need to do most of my shoe shopping online, no. The challenges here for women are much the same as the challenges for men here - high housing costs can be difficult to address, no matter your gender. It could be a lonely place if you didn't get involved and meet people. And I suppose if you were focused on gender then it might seem a bit weird to be in a place that is predominantly male - except that I have never viewed that world across that gender divide, and to be honest the gender disparity is something I have rarely even noticed. It is, as they say, what it is.
As a single woman here do I still have hope? I must admit this particular question rather floored me, as I was tempted to respond that I was in fact hopeless and planned to slit my wrists immediately after the interview. Instead, though, I would say the odds are in favour of single women here given the gender disparity (but then again in order to date one would need five minutes free from kid, dog, cat and ferrets, so I can't comment too much on this angle as my other commitments preclude much other than the occasional attempt to get more than 5 hours of sleep). And then too there is the assumption that life is all about dating and finding love, when in my house life is more about trying to figure out if it is the dog, the cat or the washing machine that is responsible for the ridiculous number of missing socks.
What is intriguing about this community is the opportunity. I have met so many women here who are pursuing careers that may not be considered the norm, trades in which they may struggle in other places. I have met so many women who advance quickly in their chosen profession, because this is a place that needs those with talent, ambition and drive. I have met women here who may struggle a bit to find their place initially, but once they find it they discover what a remarkable place it is regardless of your gender, because the potential and opportunities are truly endless.
Once again this last week rumours surfaced of a producer interested in creating a "real housewives of Fort McMurray" style show, which is at least the third time I know someone has floated the idea in the last three years, as well as various other "reality" show ideas about "single life" in Fort McMurray. The reality of theses reality shows, though, is that the lives of women here, and men, are no different than the lives of men and women everywhere.
We go to work, we come home, we play with our kids, we walk our dog, we make supper, we chauffeur our kids to events, we go to see movies, we visit our library, we attend concerts, we participate in sports, we go the mall, we go out for coffee, we meet friends for dinner and we volunteer. We are married, single, divorced and widowed. We have kids or we have dogs or we have cats (or none of the above, or all of the above, plus some weasels). We drive cars or we take buses. We own houses, rent houses, rent apartments or live in condos. We are the women of Fort McMurray, and we are truly no different than women anywhere else, except perhaps that we get a lot of questions about what it's like to be a woman in Fort McMurray - and I suppose in that regard we may be slightly different indeed.
So, that's my synopsis of life as a single white female in Fort McMurray. And for the record, yes, I still have hope ;)
Monday, March 24, 2014
Commercial Trouble on the 881
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I have often written in this blog about safety on the highways leading into our community, particularly Highway 63. In recent months, though, I have become increasingly concerned about another highway that runs through our region, and that has seen a heavy increase in traffic as we have grown in both population and industry.
I have driven on Highway 881 a number of times in my twelve years here, but far more often than usual in the last year as I found myself headed to Conklin for work purposes. The increased traffic on this narrow little highway is of genuine concern, particularly now that it has become a popular alternate route for commercial traffic especially as we have seen an increase in industry in that corridor. And that is why this story is deeply, deeply troubling:
What in the name of holy hell is going on here, people? Of 200 private and commercial vehicles inspected a whopping 85 percent of the commercial vehicles were deficient and pulled off the road? 85 percent! That's an absurdly high number, and one which should cause grave concern for everyone in the commercial fleet business as well as the rest of us who travel the local highways. But it only gets worse:
Police nabbed a 23-year old man driving at 164 kilometres per hour in a 100 zone.
On Saturday, Mounties organized several checkstops. The enforcement resulted in two drivers being issued 72 hour suspensions for alcohol levels above the legal limit. Police also issued a 17 year old male driver a 24 hour suspension for using marihuana prior to operating a motor vehicle.
On the same evening, a 61-year old man was caught red-handed with open liquor in the cab of a semi truck. Upon closer inspection, police realized that the man was not licenced to drive the semi and that that both the truck and the trailer were unregistered.
(Please see: http://www.mix1037fm.com/news/1392-intoxicated-truckers-lead-footed-drivers-busted-on-highway-881)
Look, if you aren't alarmed you should be. These individuals are driving commercial vehicles often capable of causing massive damage in accidents, including fatalities. We are sharing the roadways with intoxicated drivers, speeders, those who are not even licenced to drive the category of vehicle they are found operating and vehicles that are deficient in some regard.
This is a black eye for everyone involved in commercial driving, too. I know professional drivers, and they take their business seriously because their lives and the lives of those around them depend on their professionalism.
So, my question is this: what are the companies who employ these drivers doing about this situation? It would appear we have a serious issue here and one that needs to be addressed immediately. While law enforcement has a role to play I think it is up to those who employ drivers who are failing to act in a professional manner to ensure that this behaviour is not tolerated. I would also suggest that industry must play a role here too and ensure that the commercial fleet services they are using to transport their goods have clean records, including records noting that the vehicles themselves are in good condition. And maybe, just maybe, the time for fines is over and we start looking at jail time for individuals like this one:
As part of this checkstop Police had interactions with a 61 year old male who had open liquor in the cab of a semi truck. The male was subsequently taken into Police custody and provided a sample of his breath that resulted in a 72 hour suspension. Further Police checks then showed that the male did not have a proper class of licence to operate the semi truck and had no air brake endorsement. Both the semi-truck and the trailer were both un-registered as well. The driver was issued eight violation tickets for various offences.
Violation tickets? 72-hour suspension? Do the words "tap on the hand" mean anything to anyone? If we cannot give our law enforcement and courts the power to take these matters seriously and mete out appropriate punishment then perhaps it is time to revisit the penalties for taking the safety and well-being of others so lightly and treating it with such disdain and disregard.
I travel on Highway 881, and I am anticipating doing so more often in the future. So do my friends and family, and it is very likely that you may do so, too. I suspect I won't be the only one viewing commercial vehicles with some degree of suspicion after this. This is a wake up call for all of us, including the commercial fleet industry. The only question that remains, then, is what they plan to do about it, because our lives are depending on them.
Friday, March 21, 2014
Write On
God, how I hated her. And yet at the same time I fiercely wanted her approval, this little tank of a woman with the short-cropped steel grey hair. It was the most desperate of love/hate relationships, because at the same time she infuriated me she inspired me. "She" was my high school English teacher.
Mrs. Van den Beuken was roughly the shape of a square. She was short and wide, with steely eyes and a look of determination on her face. She brooked no shenanigans, that one, and she was my high school nemesis and mentor. She drove me crazy, to be honest, as her expectations were absurdly high in my eyes. I will never forget getting an assignment back in Grade 10 and finding a big fat zero scrawled on it in red ink, with the comment "This stinks". Ok, she totally busted me as I had been up far too late, forgotten about the assignment, and wrote it in the school cafeteria in the 10 minutes just before class, but I was still outraged. I was in Grade 10, dammit! Why was she riding me like a pony?!?
In Grade 11 I got a chance to look at a graded test from another student, one of our star athletes. He was a sweet guy, and super talented on the sports field, but not nearly as strong academically. I noted, however, that she had been much kinder in grading his efforts, and I took my outrage to her, sure she would see the injustice of treating me differently. Not a chance. She fixed those steely eyes on me and told me to go ask the football coach why he treated the superstar athlete harder than the other kids on the field, and why he expected more of him. She explained that if you have a gift or a skill then you should be held to a higher standard, and expected to excel. She told me if I wanted a free ride I should probably switch schools, because she wasn't going anywhere and planned to request to be my English teacher every semester until graduation. And she told me I should get used to red ink, because if I thought she was tough then I would be stunned when I worked with an editor.
By the time I reached Grade Twelve other students were coming to me to proof read their work. I still made errors, but I had learned to accept that and understand that one simply used those experiences to improve. I learned to not take corrections of spelling or grammar personally. That square little woman changed how I thought, and while I stopped writing for many years the fact that I can write at all is a testament to her and her refusal to accept mediocrity.
I was reminded of her recently when I saw a poster someone had created to advertise an event. The poster, which was shared on social media, contained a couple of glaring errors, the kind that make you wince because they detract from the message being shared. I replied to the Twitter message containing the poster link (and I won't share the subsequent fallout, but I will say that if the person responsible had ever encountered "The Tank", as I called Mrs. Van den B on bad days, they would have understood that this sort of constructive advice is not personal) and suggested that these mistakes matter - and so they do.
You have one chance to make a first impression. In writing or marketing this is perhaps even more the case, because no one knows or cares who created the poster or document. Spelling errors, lapses in grammar and similar mistakes affect how the quality of the work is perceived. And while we all make mistakes (I do, in this blog, all the time) it is fundamental to recognize that part of writing is the desire to improve, even if it takes making errors, and having others point them out, to do it. It is all about having pride in our work, like the contractor who did some work in my house and when he was screwing in light switch plates made sure that the little indents in each screw pointed straight up and down. I asked him why he bothered and he simply said: "Because I take pride in my work and another tradesperson will see that and know I am someone who cares about quality." Huh. Who knew?
Now, let's be clear on a few things. I am not some social media grammar and spelling cop, as for me social media is a free for all and I care more about message than about spelling. But if one is producing documents for the public - articles, press releases, posters and the like - then one should be trying to ensure they meet a very high standard for accuracy and quality. It reflects on the organization, business or individual if you do any less or accept any less. If I am going to put my name on something then I want it to be of the highest quality I can achieve and if I fail - which I do and will - then I will acknowledge it, correct it if I can and accept full responsibility without excuse or a "dog ate my homework", olly-olly-oxen-free attempt at escape (The Tank never believed that dog thing, anyhow).
So, what to do if you are not a professional writer but are creating documents for the public that you want to reflect well on your cause and achieve a high standard? Well, you can hire a professional writer to create them (hey, I don't do my own surgery, dentistry or car repairs and always hire a professional - why is it people think writing is any different?), or you can ask a friend who has strong language skills to put a second set of eyes on your work to catch any errors that might have escaped you. There is no more shame in that than asking someone to check out our plumbing because we aren't a plumber or our electrical panel because we aren't an electrician.
For the record I play with language a lot now. In this blog I will often do things I would never do in my professional work, like using the occasional profanity, the prolific use of dashes and run on sentences and even starting sentences with "and". These things would make The Tank insane, and I suppose in some ways it is a gentle and final "f" you to the woman who made me lose sleep, cry on occasion and frequently want to bludgeon her with a thesaurus. The funny thing is, though, even though I play with language and even though every single time I start a sentence with "and" I get a little shiver of excitement at pulling one over on The Tank, I love that woman more with every word I write, because she taught me that quality matters and that if your goal is mediocrity then you will never improve. Thanks to The Tank I learned to write - and to her I say, wherever she is, thank you - and write on, Mrs. Van den B, write on.
Mrs. Van den Beuken was roughly the shape of a square. She was short and wide, with steely eyes and a look of determination on her face. She brooked no shenanigans, that one, and she was my high school nemesis and mentor. She drove me crazy, to be honest, as her expectations were absurdly high in my eyes. I will never forget getting an assignment back in Grade 10 and finding a big fat zero scrawled on it in red ink, with the comment "This stinks". Ok, she totally busted me as I had been up far too late, forgotten about the assignment, and wrote it in the school cafeteria in the 10 minutes just before class, but I was still outraged. I was in Grade 10, dammit! Why was she riding me like a pony?!?
In Grade 11 I got a chance to look at a graded test from another student, one of our star athletes. He was a sweet guy, and super talented on the sports field, but not nearly as strong academically. I noted, however, that she had been much kinder in grading his efforts, and I took my outrage to her, sure she would see the injustice of treating me differently. Not a chance. She fixed those steely eyes on me and told me to go ask the football coach why he treated the superstar athlete harder than the other kids on the field, and why he expected more of him. She explained that if you have a gift or a skill then you should be held to a higher standard, and expected to excel. She told me if I wanted a free ride I should probably switch schools, because she wasn't going anywhere and planned to request to be my English teacher every semester until graduation. And she told me I should get used to red ink, because if I thought she was tough then I would be stunned when I worked with an editor.
By the time I reached Grade Twelve other students were coming to me to proof read their work. I still made errors, but I had learned to accept that and understand that one simply used those experiences to improve. I learned to not take corrections of spelling or grammar personally. That square little woman changed how I thought, and while I stopped writing for many years the fact that I can write at all is a testament to her and her refusal to accept mediocrity.
I was reminded of her recently when I saw a poster someone had created to advertise an event. The poster, which was shared on social media, contained a couple of glaring errors, the kind that make you wince because they detract from the message being shared. I replied to the Twitter message containing the poster link (and I won't share the subsequent fallout, but I will say that if the person responsible had ever encountered "The Tank", as I called Mrs. Van den B on bad days, they would have understood that this sort of constructive advice is not personal) and suggested that these mistakes matter - and so they do.
You have one chance to make a first impression. In writing or marketing this is perhaps even more the case, because no one knows or cares who created the poster or document. Spelling errors, lapses in grammar and similar mistakes affect how the quality of the work is perceived. And while we all make mistakes (I do, in this blog, all the time) it is fundamental to recognize that part of writing is the desire to improve, even if it takes making errors, and having others point them out, to do it. It is all about having pride in our work, like the contractor who did some work in my house and when he was screwing in light switch plates made sure that the little indents in each screw pointed straight up and down. I asked him why he bothered and he simply said: "Because I take pride in my work and another tradesperson will see that and know I am someone who cares about quality." Huh. Who knew?
Now, let's be clear on a few things. I am not some social media grammar and spelling cop, as for me social media is a free for all and I care more about message than about spelling. But if one is producing documents for the public - articles, press releases, posters and the like - then one should be trying to ensure they meet a very high standard for accuracy and quality. It reflects on the organization, business or individual if you do any less or accept any less. If I am going to put my name on something then I want it to be of the highest quality I can achieve and if I fail - which I do and will - then I will acknowledge it, correct it if I can and accept full responsibility without excuse or a "dog ate my homework", olly-olly-oxen-free attempt at escape (The Tank never believed that dog thing, anyhow).
So, what to do if you are not a professional writer but are creating documents for the public that you want to reflect well on your cause and achieve a high standard? Well, you can hire a professional writer to create them (hey, I don't do my own surgery, dentistry or car repairs and always hire a professional - why is it people think writing is any different?), or you can ask a friend who has strong language skills to put a second set of eyes on your work to catch any errors that might have escaped you. There is no more shame in that than asking someone to check out our plumbing because we aren't a plumber or our electrical panel because we aren't an electrician.
For the record I play with language a lot now. In this blog I will often do things I would never do in my professional work, like using the occasional profanity, the prolific use of dashes and run on sentences and even starting sentences with "and". These things would make The Tank insane, and I suppose in some ways it is a gentle and final "f" you to the woman who made me lose sleep, cry on occasion and frequently want to bludgeon her with a thesaurus. The funny thing is, though, even though I play with language and even though every single time I start a sentence with "and" I get a little shiver of excitement at pulling one over on The Tank, I love that woman more with every word I write, because she taught me that quality matters and that if your goal is mediocrity then you will never improve. Thanks to The Tank I learned to write - and to her I say, wherever she is, thank you - and write on, Mrs. Van den B, write on.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Fall From Grace
It was an incredibly gracious speech, the kind you expect a leader to deliver. The level of calm composure was remarkable, given the circumstances.
We were watching together as it live-streamed on my laptop, right from the rotunda in the Legislative Assembly of Alberta into our home. The kid and I were curled up in the same armchair, wrapped around each other, as we watched events unfold in a setting where we have both walked and reveled in the history and magnificence of the building.
She came down the stairs to applause, and when she began the kid looked at me and said, "Do you think she will resign?"
"I don't know," I said. And the kid looked at the screen and then said, before the words had left our Premier's lips, "Yes, she will - look at her eyes, her face, her body language. She is going to quit."
And so she did, last night in front of the watching eyes of the nation, the province, and a mom and daughter who sat snuggled together in an armchair. And as we sat there I know we were both thinking about how we had such high hopes and dreams just under three years ago when our Premier was elected, the first woman premier in our province's history.
I met Alison Redford when she visited Fort McMurray during the leadership debates. Even then she impressed me deeply, her sharp intelligence and keen intellect on full display. She had strength and resiliency, and I believed that she would make a wonderful leader, one right for a new era in our province. She attracted the right people too, I thought, two local individuals who I believed would be strong representatives for our region, and so when the time came I worked on the campaign for one of those individuals, throwing myself behind him and Alison Redford. And so too did the Intrepid Junior Blogger, the kid who spent her spring break in a campaign office and delivering flyers. She loved the idea of a woman premier, someone to look up to and a role model displaying all the qualities she admires. It was, in fact, a glorious time for her, to be part of seeing our MLA elected and Redford become the Premier. It was the best of times.
And then, recently, it became the worst of times. When the $45,000 trip to Nelson Mandela's funeral became an issue I believed it was still salvageable. Just pay it back with a contrite apology, and it would most likely go away. But the refusal to pay it back right away - her decision or bad advice from someone else I do not know - showed an inability to read the mood of the people. And then when the bad news kept piling on, more outrageously expensive trips, more details of government flights of dubious value to the taxpayer, more rumours and allegations (unproven and potentially unfounded, but still swirling) who was there to defend her?
Well, nobody. There are people who blame partisan politics for this downfall, and there are people who lay all the blame on Redford, but I think it is most likely a combination of those things, and includes the fact that she failed to build a strong team. While she was "building Alberta" she failed to build strength in her team, and it showed. The stories of backbenchers who waited not days, not weeks, not even months but years to meet face to face with their leader - their boss. Ever had a boss you would go to war for, take a bullet for? I have been fortunate to have some of those, but those bosses are the ones who have shown you the leadership to build your loyalty and respect. Those are the bosses who showed you loyalty and respect. I wish Redford was one of those, but it seems she was not.
When her dark days came who would stand in front of her and take the bullet? Christine Cusanelli, who got booted out of cabinet for an expense scandal very similar to the premier's own? Steve Young who one day about to be sworn into cabinet and the next day unceremoniously dumped? Doug Griffiths or Thomas Lukaszuk, who both got demotions in cabinet posts? The MLAs who never got to know Redford as a person or leader but only as an aloof individual who didn't seem to connect with them?
There was no one willing to take the bullet, and those who rose to her defense did so in the most tepid manner. I like Redford - I always will and I will always respect her intelligence and her resiliency, but she failed to understand that part of leadership is building a team and engendering loyalty and respect in them. She ended with a divided caucus, and the caucus infighting she suggested she could no longer handle and that led to her resignation rested squarely with her in the end. She failed to build the strong team she needed behind her in the dark days, and so it ended last night, not with a bang but a whimper. She lost touch with her team, with the people of this province and with the very people who worked to see her in office, people like a young 14-year old girl and I. She lost our faith, and with it she lost her right to govern as Premier, and so she did the right thing. She stepped down.
I do respect that decision tremendously, and I respect some of the other things she accomplished. Thanks to our MLAs, who have advocated for us with power and impact, she agreed to commit to the twinning of Highway 63. We have seen new schools built, new schools promised and infrastructure improvements to our local roads. I will always be grateful that she was responsive to the needs of this region, the economic engine of our province, and I will always be personally thankful that she took the time to speak with me - and with my daughter. I do not wish her any harm - in fact it is quite the opposite, as I wish her well as she moves into another phase and hope she exhibits the same strength and resiliency that I have always admired.
And now we move on.
We need a new Premier, one who can rebuild the team, connect the caucus and keep this government and province moving forward. We have a chance now to put the swirling controversies to rest and get on with the business of the province, changing our focus from expense scandals to seeing our province prosper. Perhaps the most troubling aspect of all this has been the loss of focus, the fact that it became all about the Premier and spending habits and entitlement and a lost connection with the people when it needs to be about the province, the people and the business at hand. There are challenges ahead to be sure - and opportunities, too.
Last night by the time it was over I was in tears. Call me what you will, over emotional perhaps, but I was deeply affected by seeing Redford resign, a sad end to such high hopes and dreams and beliefs. I was filled with a maelstrom of emotions and it all came spilling out at the end, with tears rolling down my face.
The Intrepid Junior Blogger hugged me and said "It will be ok, Mom."
And so she is right, and it will be okay. My kid, at 14, has the strength and resiliency and intelligence to be a leader - and now she has seen how leadership can go wrong, and how hopes and dreams can end. A few days ago I was bitter about that, but now I see it differently. Now I see that this was a lesson she will value and which one day may stand in her good stead as she looks around her and realizes she needs to build a team. She saw a fall from grace acknowledged with the most gracious speech. She saw a moment in history she will never forget, and she saw an ending she will never want to emulate. And so, at the end of the day, a chapter closes in the life of our province and in the life of my daughter, and a new one begins, brimming once again with hope, belief, dreams, and yes, optimism for the future of Alberta and young Albertans. Young Albertans, in fact, just like the one who cuddled me last night in an armchair as we watched someone we have both admired deliver an impossible speech with grace and dignity. Last night was an ending, and today is a beginning - and I suppose in the end I am truly grateful that my daughter has been a witness to it all, because perhaps it is the hardest experiences that truly build the future leaders. Sometimes, perhaps, it is the examples of leadership gone wrong that are the most valuable examples of all.
We were watching together as it live-streamed on my laptop, right from the rotunda in the Legislative Assembly of Alberta into our home. The kid and I were curled up in the same armchair, wrapped around each other, as we watched events unfold in a setting where we have both walked and reveled in the history and magnificence of the building.
She came down the stairs to applause, and when she began the kid looked at me and said, "Do you think she will resign?"
"I don't know," I said. And the kid looked at the screen and then said, before the words had left our Premier's lips, "Yes, she will - look at her eyes, her face, her body language. She is going to quit."
And so she did, last night in front of the watching eyes of the nation, the province, and a mom and daughter who sat snuggled together in an armchair. And as we sat there I know we were both thinking about how we had such high hopes and dreams just under three years ago when our Premier was elected, the first woman premier in our province's history.
I met Alison Redford when she visited Fort McMurray during the leadership debates. Even then she impressed me deeply, her sharp intelligence and keen intellect on full display. She had strength and resiliency, and I believed that she would make a wonderful leader, one right for a new era in our province. She attracted the right people too, I thought, two local individuals who I believed would be strong representatives for our region, and so when the time came I worked on the campaign for one of those individuals, throwing myself behind him and Alison Redford. And so too did the Intrepid Junior Blogger, the kid who spent her spring break in a campaign office and delivering flyers. She loved the idea of a woman premier, someone to look up to and a role model displaying all the qualities she admires. It was, in fact, a glorious time for her, to be part of seeing our MLA elected and Redford become the Premier. It was the best of times.
And then, recently, it became the worst of times. When the $45,000 trip to Nelson Mandela's funeral became an issue I believed it was still salvageable. Just pay it back with a contrite apology, and it would most likely go away. But the refusal to pay it back right away - her decision or bad advice from someone else I do not know - showed an inability to read the mood of the people. And then when the bad news kept piling on, more outrageously expensive trips, more details of government flights of dubious value to the taxpayer, more rumours and allegations (unproven and potentially unfounded, but still swirling) who was there to defend her?
Well, nobody. There are people who blame partisan politics for this downfall, and there are people who lay all the blame on Redford, but I think it is most likely a combination of those things, and includes the fact that she failed to build a strong team. While she was "building Alberta" she failed to build strength in her team, and it showed. The stories of backbenchers who waited not days, not weeks, not even months but years to meet face to face with their leader - their boss. Ever had a boss you would go to war for, take a bullet for? I have been fortunate to have some of those, but those bosses are the ones who have shown you the leadership to build your loyalty and respect. Those are the bosses who showed you loyalty and respect. I wish Redford was one of those, but it seems she was not.
When her dark days came who would stand in front of her and take the bullet? Christine Cusanelli, who got booted out of cabinet for an expense scandal very similar to the premier's own? Steve Young who one day about to be sworn into cabinet and the next day unceremoniously dumped? Doug Griffiths or Thomas Lukaszuk, who both got demotions in cabinet posts? The MLAs who never got to know Redford as a person or leader but only as an aloof individual who didn't seem to connect with them?
There was no one willing to take the bullet, and those who rose to her defense did so in the most tepid manner. I like Redford - I always will and I will always respect her intelligence and her resiliency, but she failed to understand that part of leadership is building a team and engendering loyalty and respect in them. She ended with a divided caucus, and the caucus infighting she suggested she could no longer handle and that led to her resignation rested squarely with her in the end. She failed to build the strong team she needed behind her in the dark days, and so it ended last night, not with a bang but a whimper. She lost touch with her team, with the people of this province and with the very people who worked to see her in office, people like a young 14-year old girl and I. She lost our faith, and with it she lost her right to govern as Premier, and so she did the right thing. She stepped down.
I do respect that decision tremendously, and I respect some of the other things she accomplished. Thanks to our MLAs, who have advocated for us with power and impact, she agreed to commit to the twinning of Highway 63. We have seen new schools built, new schools promised and infrastructure improvements to our local roads. I will always be grateful that she was responsive to the needs of this region, the economic engine of our province, and I will always be personally thankful that she took the time to speak with me - and with my daughter. I do not wish her any harm - in fact it is quite the opposite, as I wish her well as she moves into another phase and hope she exhibits the same strength and resiliency that I have always admired.
And now we move on.
We need a new Premier, one who can rebuild the team, connect the caucus and keep this government and province moving forward. We have a chance now to put the swirling controversies to rest and get on with the business of the province, changing our focus from expense scandals to seeing our province prosper. Perhaps the most troubling aspect of all this has been the loss of focus, the fact that it became all about the Premier and spending habits and entitlement and a lost connection with the people when it needs to be about the province, the people and the business at hand. There are challenges ahead to be sure - and opportunities, too.
Last night by the time it was over I was in tears. Call me what you will, over emotional perhaps, but I was deeply affected by seeing Redford resign, a sad end to such high hopes and dreams and beliefs. I was filled with a maelstrom of emotions and it all came spilling out at the end, with tears rolling down my face.
The Intrepid Junior Blogger hugged me and said "It will be ok, Mom."
And so she is right, and it will be okay. My kid, at 14, has the strength and resiliency and intelligence to be a leader - and now she has seen how leadership can go wrong, and how hopes and dreams can end. A few days ago I was bitter about that, but now I see it differently. Now I see that this was a lesson she will value and which one day may stand in her good stead as she looks around her and realizes she needs to build a team. She saw a fall from grace acknowledged with the most gracious speech. She saw a moment in history she will never forget, and she saw an ending she will never want to emulate. And so, at the end of the day, a chapter closes in the life of our province and in the life of my daughter, and a new one begins, brimming once again with hope, belief, dreams, and yes, optimism for the future of Alberta and young Albertans. Young Albertans, in fact, just like the one who cuddled me last night in an armchair as we watched someone we have both admired deliver an impossible speech with grace and dignity. Last night was an ending, and today is a beginning - and I suppose in the end I am truly grateful that my daughter has been a witness to it all, because perhaps it is the hardest experiences that truly build the future leaders. Sometimes, perhaps, it is the examples of leadership gone wrong that are the most valuable examples of all.
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Sharing the Story with Marc Garneau
Writing this blog has led me to many opportunities and experiences, including yesterday evening when I had the chance to meet and chat with Marc Garneau. The name is likely familiar to you, as while he now serves as a Liberal MP Mr. Garneau is also well-known in Canada for his former career - as an astronaut.
He was in fact the first Canadian in space, flying on the space shuttle Challenger in 1984. This is a proud accomplishment indeed, and one I remember well. I remember the sense of pride in seeing a fellow Canadian going to space, and his contributions to the space program helped cement the participation of our country in further space shuttle missions.
Now Mr. Garneau serves our country in another capacity, as an MP. Last night I had the chance to meet him and speak with him about life in our community, which is of course my favourite thing to do. Someone introduced me to him after explaining a bit about what I do, and since he was not aware of this blog we started our conversation discussing it.
He asked the usual questions, like if I get paid to write this (never, not even a dime), and then he asked why. Why invest the time and effort to write this blog for almost three years? Why do this for three years without pay? Where did it start and why?
And so I had the opportunity to tell Marc Garneau, MP and astronaut (rocketman, if you will) about the incident that started it all, three years ago in the Vancouver airport. Every person and every adventure has a genesis story, and this is one I told at the beginning of writing this blog. It was, in fact, my first blog post.
I was returning from Vancouver after a holiday with my four sisters. I had checked in and was going through security when the security guard looked at my boarding pass and asked why I was going to Fort McMurray. I replied that I was going home, and he looked at me and said: "Nobody like you lives in Fort McMurray."
I was, for a moment, speechless. I retorted that people "like me" do indeed live in Fort McMurray, and raise their kids there. I was left to wonder what he meant - did he mean because I am a woman? Because I dress business casual? Because I am in my 40's? Because I look comfortable in an urban setting and no different than anyone else? Some combination of those factors?
And that was where this blog began, almost three years ago. I sat in the boarding area and wavered between seething rage and complete disbelief, realizing that people on the outside had a completely erroneous concept of what this community was. I had no idea what to do, but a friend had been encouraging me to begin a blog about Fort McMurray for some time. He was convinced there was interest and that people would read it, but I doubted it. Who would read about life in Fort McMurray, I asked him? Who would even care? But after the incident with the security guard I knew that how many read it didn't matter, because I knew that I needed to write it regardless, because people "like me" needed to tell the world that we live in Fort McMurray, and about our lives here.
As I told Mr. Garneau last night this blog now averages anywhere between 800-1000 views every day. My readers come from all over the planet to read about life in this community. Just a couple of weeks ago I received an email from a reader in Kuwait, and over the last three years I have connected with readers in Europe, the United States, South America and Asia. In three years this blog has had almost 500,000 views, a number which astonishes even me, because I never, ever believed anyone would read about life in Fort McMurray - but I was so very, very wrong.
It was an honour and delight to share my story of life here with a true Canadian hero. We chatted about the Intrepid Junior Blogger, and I told him of her passion for science, particularly engineering, and for politics (and she is, without a doubt, becoming a hard-core Liberal even at 14). I told him that she has expressed interest in the space program (although given her inability to do more than one ride at the carnival I fear zero-g may be her nemesis), and about her desire to study overseas and then return to Canada to work and, just maybe, seek elected office to represent her fellow Canadians in some capacity. I suppose, in the end, I shared with him the story of my life here, just as I have done in this blog with you over the last three years.
It was a pleasure to meet a Canadian hero, and to share my story of Fort McMurray with him - but it has been my pleasure to have done so through this blog ever since that day in the Vancouver airport, when I realized that it wasn't optional to tell my story of life here - it was essential. And so this is what I have done for the last three years with my readers, and even, on occasion, with a rocketman.
He was in fact the first Canadian in space, flying on the space shuttle Challenger in 1984. This is a proud accomplishment indeed, and one I remember well. I remember the sense of pride in seeing a fellow Canadian going to space, and his contributions to the space program helped cement the participation of our country in further space shuttle missions.
Now Mr. Garneau serves our country in another capacity, as an MP. Last night I had the chance to meet him and speak with him about life in our community, which is of course my favourite thing to do. Someone introduced me to him after explaining a bit about what I do, and since he was not aware of this blog we started our conversation discussing it.
He asked the usual questions, like if I get paid to write this (never, not even a dime), and then he asked why. Why invest the time and effort to write this blog for almost three years? Why do this for three years without pay? Where did it start and why?
And so I had the opportunity to tell Marc Garneau, MP and astronaut (rocketman, if you will) about the incident that started it all, three years ago in the Vancouver airport. Every person and every adventure has a genesis story, and this is one I told at the beginning of writing this blog. It was, in fact, my first blog post.
I was returning from Vancouver after a holiday with my four sisters. I had checked in and was going through security when the security guard looked at my boarding pass and asked why I was going to Fort McMurray. I replied that I was going home, and he looked at me and said: "Nobody like you lives in Fort McMurray."
I was, for a moment, speechless. I retorted that people "like me" do indeed live in Fort McMurray, and raise their kids there. I was left to wonder what he meant - did he mean because I am a woman? Because I dress business casual? Because I am in my 40's? Because I look comfortable in an urban setting and no different than anyone else? Some combination of those factors?
And that was where this blog began, almost three years ago. I sat in the boarding area and wavered between seething rage and complete disbelief, realizing that people on the outside had a completely erroneous concept of what this community was. I had no idea what to do, but a friend had been encouraging me to begin a blog about Fort McMurray for some time. He was convinced there was interest and that people would read it, but I doubted it. Who would read about life in Fort McMurray, I asked him? Who would even care? But after the incident with the security guard I knew that how many read it didn't matter, because I knew that I needed to write it regardless, because people "like me" needed to tell the world that we live in Fort McMurray, and about our lives here.
As I told Mr. Garneau last night this blog now averages anywhere between 800-1000 views every day. My readers come from all over the planet to read about life in this community. Just a couple of weeks ago I received an email from a reader in Kuwait, and over the last three years I have connected with readers in Europe, the United States, South America and Asia. In three years this blog has had almost 500,000 views, a number which astonishes even me, because I never, ever believed anyone would read about life in Fort McMurray - but I was so very, very wrong.
It was an honour and delight to share my story of life here with a true Canadian hero. We chatted about the Intrepid Junior Blogger, and I told him of her passion for science, particularly engineering, and for politics (and she is, without a doubt, becoming a hard-core Liberal even at 14). I told him that she has expressed interest in the space program (although given her inability to do more than one ride at the carnival I fear zero-g may be her nemesis), and about her desire to study overseas and then return to Canada to work and, just maybe, seek elected office to represent her fellow Canadians in some capacity. I suppose, in the end, I shared with him the story of my life here, just as I have done in this blog with you over the last three years.
It was a pleasure to meet a Canadian hero, and to share my story of Fort McMurray with him - but it has been my pleasure to have done so through this blog ever since that day in the Vancouver airport, when I realized that it wasn't optional to tell my story of life here - it was essential. And so this is what I have done for the last three years with my readers, and even, on occasion, with a rocketman.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Losing Her Faith
Whenever she approaches me with her cell phone clutched in her hand and says "I just read on Twitter..." I stop what I am doing and listen. The Intrepid Junior Blogger is likely not the typical 14-year old, this child who receives alerts from the CBC on developing news stories and who follows news events on social media. She has followed so many from start to finish, the robocall scandal and many others on the federal and provincial political scene. She has worked on a provincial campaign, seeing the candidate for whom she delivered flyers elected as an MLA in our region. She has met countless politicians from municipal councillors to our mayor to MLAs and the Premier. She is, at 14, a political junkie.
At times in the last couple of years it has been difficult, too. There was the day when I had to sit down with her and tell her a story because I didn't want her to first learn of it on CBC. And so we had a conversation about another local MLA, not the one for whom she volunteered but one she knew as well, who had been caught in a scandal that led to his removal from the party for which he had worked so hard to be elected. I know her faith in politics was shaken then, and I hoped that it would be rebuilt over time. In the last few weeks, though, she has been watching the news coming out of the Alberta legislature and I could see it in her eyes every time she came to me, cell phone in hand. I could see disillusionment.
I find myself in a position where it actually hurts to write this, but when I began this blog one of the things I was committed to was sharing my honest thoughts and experiences, and so I find myself here today. Recently she came to me to talk about the Premier's trip to South Africa for Nelson Mandela's funeral, and the costs incurred. She was puzzled about the expense, but we talked about how errors can be made, and how it was an example of how even our leaders must keep a keen eye on the details (and perhaps how it is even more important for them to do so than anyone else).
In the last few days, though, our discussions have gotten harder, both for me and her. The questions being asked about the rumours that are swirling around our provincial leader have made these conversations increasingly tough, because I can tell the IJB doesn't understand. I can see the disappointment and disillusionment in her eyes. And I suspect it is mirrored in my own.
Our leaders need to be people we respect and admire, people who may on occasion make poor decisions (as we all do, as we are humans and not infallible). They need to acknowledge those decisions and then rectify them as best they can. There comes a point, though, when one begins to lose faith. I can see my daughter losing faith in someone she idolized, and held in high regard. And it hurts to witness it happening yet again to a young woman who is passionate about politics.
I believe that our local MLAs have done remarkable things for our community during their time in government. One MLA fell from grace, and that was a blow for the IJB and our community, but he continues to represent us as best he can. I know too that both MLAs have worked tirelessly with government ministers to achieve some significant milestones, from the commitment to complete the twinning of highway 63 to new schools to developing solutions for our local traffic woes. I believe that there are many, many good people in the party now in power, and that they work hard for their constituents and for this province. I fear, though, that all their hard and good work will be overlooked as questions about their leader - our leader - continue to mount. And the more that arise the more often I find myself watching as the IJB loses faith.
I have a lot of thoughts about this situation, my own questions, disappointment and disillusionment. But it is watching my daughter's that hurts the most, this young woman who has at 14 expressed an interest in perhaps, just perhaps, seeking office one day as the Prime Minister of our nation, this young woman who was so proud to be part of seeing our first female Premier elected in this province, this young woman who has such faith and belief. I see her losing her faith - and it is something about which I cannot stay silent, because her loss of faith matters. She matters, because she is a resident of this province, a future voter and I believe a future leader. Her loss of faith matters, because in the end it might just matter to us all. Her loss of faith might mean she loses faith in the concept of leadership and leaders, and so every time she comes to me, cell phone in hand, I fear it might mean both the end of one leader, and the desire of one young woman to one day become one.
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