There's Something Happening Here - Fort McMurray and Highway 63

I don't normally post a lot of music videos in this blog, people. But yesterday this was the song that kept running through my mind, because it's a song about social activism. It comes from a very different era, of course, and it speaks to a different issue - but yesterday as I attended the Twin Highway 63 protest rally, as I shed tears, as I spoke to a crowd of 1500 people - well, this is the song I heard playing in my head.

Photo credit to @fortmattmurray

 Photo credit to Norm Sutton

Photo credit to Norm Sutton

Yesterday at 10 am I arrived at MacDonald Island Park. Many of my regular readers know of my close connection to Mac Island, the place I choose to spend much of my free time. I'm not going to talk about how the organizers of the Twin 63 protest rally had to find a new venue at the last minute, losing the two previous venues they had arranged. I am going to talk about how they contacted Mac Island, and about how Mac Island not only welcomed them but pulled it together in an extremely short period of time, helping them with a stage and even hosting a BBQ with proceeds going to families of the victims of the recent horrific accident on Highway 63. I'm going to say this very clearly, people - there is a reason MacDonald Island Park is referred to as the heart of this community. Not only are they the heart they have a heart, too, a heart in their administration and staff that recognized the deep need this community had to come together during a time of grief and anger. They allowed this community a place to mourn and cry and vent and rage and gather - and for that Tim Reid, Mac Island COO, Naved Noorani, Hospitality Director, and the entire Mac Island admin and staff have my gratitude - and my heart, too.

When I arrived yesterday the crowd was already beginning to form, many carrying signs they had brought from home. I was touched by the signs, as they showed the depth of the feelings behind them. Signs take effort, and thought. They take someone caring enough to take the time to make them. And that was my first inkling that something was really happening here.

Photo credit to @fortmattmurray

Photo credit to @fortmattmurray

Photo credit to Norm Sutton

 Photo credit to Norm Sutton

 Photo credit to Norm Sutton

Photo credit to Norm Sutton

You see, I am a social activist from way back, my high school days in fact. I was involved in the Canadian anti-nuclear movement at a time when Canada was proposing allowing the United States to test cruise missiles on Canadian military bases. You can disagree with my politics if you like, but even now I have deep reservations about allowing another country - any country - to test weapons on our soil, damaging our reputation as peace keepers, as we are not warmongers and promoters. Regardless of whether or not you agree with my thoughts on that, though, the reality is I was sign-making, protest-rallying, anti-nuclear-chanting machine of a young woman. I've been to many protest rallies. I've carried the signs, and I've chanted the slogans. When it comes to activism I have a background - and what I saw yesterday was the birth of social activism in a community where it has never happened before, where there is no precedent for it - and it's all because of Highway 63. Approximately 1500 citizens gathered on the grass at Mac Island yesterday, a number nothing short of astonishing given that it has never, ever happened before in this city.

McMurray Musings

Photo credit to @fortmattmurray

A band played yesterday, and another local musician wrote a song a penned about the 63. The organizers explained why we had gathered, and then I had a chance to speak. Apparently I spoke too quietly, too far away from the microphone, but public speaking isn't really my thing, and besides far more compelling and interesting speeches followed mine. A woman who spoke as if carrying a message from each of the victims of the most recent tragedy. The man who pulled the children out of burning vehicles (his name is Dion Lefebvre, and he denies being a hero, but I know in my heart he is the most heroic of men). Another woman who wrote a touching and angry open letter after the accident. And, most heart wrenchingly, the mother of a young man killed just this past New Year's Eve, a woman with more courage than I have ever before seen displayed.

The face of pain and grief and a child lost...

Photo credit to @fortmattmurray

 The face of heroism...

 Photo credit to @fortmattmurray

The face of anger and sorrow...

Photo credit to @fortmattmurray

I wept openly, I admit it, clutching my daughter to me, her arms wrapped around me. I suspect my sunglasses didn't do much to hide the tears that streamed down my face, but then again I was not alone in my tears. Tears were shed very openly yesterday, by almost everyone in that crowd, a crowd that included everyone from our two new MLA-elects and our mayor to babies in strollers. It was a wide range of people that attended, every age represented, every demographic of our city there.

Photo credit to @fortmattmurray

Photo credit to Steve Reeve

Photo credit to Steve Reeve

After a short break the organizers requested we participate in a demonstration. As they called out age categories group by group we laid on the ground, symbolizing those lost on the 63. I laid on the ground as my daughter and niece remained standing when my age group was called, and when they too laid down another tear escaped my eyes. The entire field, laying on the ground. It was powerful. It was impacting. It was horrendous to think that a single one of them could be the next person to die on the 63.

Photo credit to Steve Reeve

Photo credit to Steve Reeve

Newly elected MLA Don Scott read an email he had received from Mark Penney, the sole adult survivor of the accident on April 27th. It was a difficult email to listen to, one from a man who had his entire life changed in an instant, one that made you realize what a long road he has ahead of him.

And then, after some closing words, the protest rally was over. Except, of course, that it wasn't over. Because we saw something very profound happen yesterday, Fort Mac. We saw not the end of something, but rather the beginning. We saw the start of a true grassroots community movement to accomplish something - ending the deaths on our lifeline to the world, Highway 63.

During the break I went to speak to Dion Lefebvre, and I thanked him. I told him that I was proud to live in a world with people like him in it, and I am. I went to the mother of the young man who died so recently, the woman who displayed incredible courage by taking that stage, and I thanked her for her bravery. I told her she is quite likely the bravest woman I have ever seen, and it's true. I had a few people thank me for my open letter to the Premier, and I thanked them in return because many said it inspired them to write their own letters, to sign the petition, to do something. And I think that's exactly it, people. I think this past week we saw a community recognize that we CAN do something. That we have power in numbers, strength in our collective voice, and the ability to make change. We can stand together and demand action and progress on twinning the highway, and we can as individuals report those we see driving aggressively. I think we recognized both as a community and as individuals that we have the ability to effect change - and that is what social activism is, people. And yesterday, on a field at MacDonald Island, through a veil of tears and my sunglasses, that is what I saw happening.

I am including the text of the speech I gave yesterday. It is not a protest speech - and I know because I have heard many of those years ago. It's a speech about remembrance, and about change. It is a speech about remaining resolute in our ability to effect change, because I believe it is in our power. Yesterday 1500 voices were heard at a protest rally. Thousands and thousands more have been heard on a petition. I suspect thousands have been heard by our MLA's and our Premier as their email inboxes have filled up. We each have an individual voice, but collectively we have a voice that cannot be stopped, and it cannot be ignored. We each have the ability to create change, and together we can accomplish things that seemed impossible to us as individuals. We have seen the beginning of social activism, and it all centres around perhaps the most important cause I have ever seen, far outstripping fighting the testing of cruise missiles - ending the deaths of our beloved families and community members on the highway of heartache.

My sincere thanks and deepest respect go to:

Nicole Auser and Ashley St. Croix,

organizers of the protest rally -

and community heroines.

To all the musicians who played

and all who spoke yesterday.

You are agents of change 

in this world, and

in this community.

MacDonald Island Park -

for being the true heart of our community.

And to all who attended yesterday -

those who took the time 

to make signs, 

to bring their children,

to be a part of change -

you are community heroes, too.
I am so very proud to call you my community!

Highway of Heartache

One of my favourite quotes about writing is that writing is easy – you just sit down at a keyboard and open up a vein. On the evening of Friday, April 27^th I sat down with my laptop and wrote an open letter to Premier Alison Redford. I did so after learning that the seventh victim of the horrific accident on Highway 63 had died, a young woman I now know was named Faith. Learning that Faith had died had a tremendous impact on me, and so I sat down at my keyboard, and opened up a vein.

Some of you have probably read that letter. Since I wrote it 23,000 people from across the country have read the letter, and I have been overwhelmed by the response. I have received almost 300 comments, and emails. The comments and emails have come from all corners of this country, and when they began to pour in I realized that this issue, the safety of our lifeline to the world, goes far beyond our city limits.

People from across the country expressed concern for the safety of their loved ones who live or work here and travel this highway. People who live here shared stories of close calls and accidents witnessed. And hardest of all were the stories from family members of those who died on Highway 63. They told me of their loss, and of their pain. I can’t even imagine the courage required to share that story with someone else, let alone a stranger, and yet they did.

What I have seen since Friday afternoon has been nothing short of amazing. From a horrific accident has arisen a movement to make Highway 63 safer. From the loss of seven people  and an unborn child has come a community effort unlike anything I have ever seen before. This movement has not come from the government or industry. This movement came from individuals who have banded together in a common cause – to end the loss of life on Highway 63. This movement arose in the community, and it developed because not a single person in this city wishes to see another person die on that highway when it can be prevented.

The loss of seven people and one unborn child on Friday was horrific and impacted many of us deeply. For me it was the loss of little Faith that hit me hardest, perhaps because my own daughter is only one year older. I think that when little Faith died she put her faith in all of us to make sure that what happened to her doesn’t happen to anyone else – not my daughter, or your son, or anyone else you love. I know this community will not let Faith and the other people who have died on Highway 63 over the years down. I know that we will fight until we see Highway 63 completely twinned, and I know that we will begin to address the aggressive driving behaviours we see on it. We will look at our own driving habits and those of others, and we will change them. We will report those who drive aggressively, and we will take responsibility as a community to make this highway safe. We have been entrusted with a precious gift from little Faith and the others we have lost. We have been entrusted to ensure that their deaths mean something, and that they will not be forgotten. We will ensure that change happens on Highway 63, and we will do it in their names – and in faith. We will no longer travel the highway of heartache.

McMurray Musings

The Farnsworth Invention - Keyano Theatre

Photo credit to Keyano Theatre

I'll admit it. I've been out of sorts the past two days, feeling like a freight train had barrelled through my life. One week ago today I was a quiet little local blogger - and then this past week I have been on national radio and television, and my quiet little existence got a little bit chaotic. I needed a chance to simply put all the noises in my head aside, a chance to sit and concentrate on something else, and a chance to simply not feel like crying - and I got that chance last night when I went to see "The Farnsworth Invention" at Keyano Theatre.

I had heard good things about the play as it has been running for a bit now. Some of my favourite local people happen to be starring in it, people like Russell Thomas (he was the very first follower of this blog and a supporter from early on, and has my gratitude for that alone). There were also people like Norm Sutton and Michael Beamish and Misty Oakes, people I have had the genuine honour to get to know in person and for whom I have developed deep respect. I didn't realize I would be so captivated by the story, but I was. It's the story of the development of television, and the drama surrounding it. It's the story of Philo Farnsworth, genius, and David Sarnoff, business shark. It's the story of a man broken and a man made, the story of a device that changed the world, the story of competition and human nature. And it's a stunningly good story, too.

You see I'm betting you've never heard of Farnsworth, an inventor who grew up in Utah. I hadn't either. But you've probably heard of NBC even if you haven't heard of Sarnoff, and NBC is the company Sarnoff headed. Sarnoff started off promoting radio. He wasn't an inventor or scientist - he was simply a "business guy", someone savvy enough to recognize the potential of  radio - and television. Farnsworth was an inventor, and from a very young age was inventing things far beyond the the imagination of most. At a time when most people couldn't even comprehend it he was talking about television, about how to make it happen, about the science that could make it reality. He was a man ahead of his time, as so many truly creative people are.

I'm not going to give the entire story away, because the play runs another two nights and if I give you the plot you might decide not to go see it - and I think you should go buy tickets right now, people. Russell Thomas is perfect as Sarnoff, a man who is ruthless in business but who you can tell has a bit of a conscience, one that just nags at the edges of his mind but doesn't stop him from achieving his goals. Michael Beamish is wonderful as Farnsworth, a creative genius with a touch of naivete about how the world works and how it will use his invention - and him. Russell and Michael play off each other so well, the business mogul and the inventor, so different and yet so similar, too. Elaine Bevans plays Farnsworth's wife well, a woman married to a man who is also quite married to his invention. Humberly Gonzalez as Sarnoff's wife Lizette is lovely, a woman married to another difficult man, a man married to success. The actresses provide a soft contrast to these two driven men, loving them but seeing their flaws so clearly, loving them despite those flaws.

And the entire ensemble cast is terrific. Everyone in the ensemble carries several roles, it seems, and every single one should be proud of their performance. Seeing my friend Norm Sutton on stage was a delight, and seeing one of my very favourite actors again, Francis Menningke, made me smile. Throw in folks like Misty Oakes and Adam Zacharias and the rest and I pretty much smiled every time an actor came on stage, just anticipating their performance.

Photo credit to Keyano Theatre

While I won't give the plot away I will make some commentary on what it meant to me personally, particularly in light of the events in my life, and this blog, this past week. One of the things Sarnoff says during the play is that television will change the world. It will end illiteracy. It will end war, he says. And of course it hasn't, any more than radio did, or the internet has. Television has become both a tool and a weapon, a technology used to educate and entertain, and it has without a doubt changed the world - in both good and bad ways, too. And so the same is true of the internet, people. A tool and a weapon, a place for education and entertainment, and a medium that has changed the world for better - and for worse. This week the internet connected me to people I would have never in my life had the chance to meet. It connected our community to the entire nation in the wake of a horrific tragedy. What in the years before internet and television and radio would have been a local issue became a national focus of attention - the desperate need to do something about Highway 63. And I suppose in a sense we, Fort McMurray, have Philo Farnsworth and David Sarnoff to thank for that. They were involved in the creation of the mediums we now use to transmit our message to the world. They were fundamental in the development of television and radio, and without those two I doubt the development of the internet would have occurred, either.

At the end of the play Russell Thomas delivers a soliloquy on how we are meant to be explorers. We explore new territory, like those who discovered North America, and who were thought crazy as they were sure to find nothing according to common knowledge. We make ridiculous plans, like going to the moon - and then we do them, even when many people think we cannot do it. We invent amazing technology even when others think we are insane,  that we are wasting our time, and that it will amount to nothing in the end. We do things like Philo Farnsworth did, taking a bold leap into the future at a time when most people can't even imagine why we are doing it. We do things like David Sarnoff did, recognizing a brilliant idea and the implications, and seizing it (even when it might not truly be ours to seize). And we bravely embrace the new technology and ideas presented to us, sometimes not even realizing how it will change our lives. Thousands did that when they purchased a radio set so many years ago. Millions did it when television arrived. And millions more did it with the arrival of the internet, embracing a new technology that has changed the world - and lives. This week, with this little blog, it changed my life in ways never expected and never planned. And last night while I watched my friends, my community, bring "The Farnsworth Invention" to life I thought about change and technology and competition and innovation and invention - and about how a simple little play, well-acted, well-directed, and with an incredible story to tell, can restore some desperately needed balance in a weary blogger's life.

My thanks and a sincere "Bravo"

to the entire cast, artistic team,

and production team that brought

"The Farnsworth Invention"

to the stage at Keyano Theatre.

It was the perfect way to end

a wonderful season of live theatre!

Photo credit to Keyano Theatre

Supper and Music with Betty and Doug

Please note - this is the post I would have published last Friday but it was pre-empted after the accident on Highway 63 and my need to work out my feelings about that accident in words. This concert actually happened last Thursday night, and as I read this again today I realize what a truly lovely evening it was, a bright spot with friends old and new, and the sort of thing that enables you to face whatever life throws at you - like learning about the tragic deaths of seven people.
McM-M

In recent months I have had the pleasure of attending a couple of house concerts at the home of my friends Matt and Aileen. I've written about both those concerts, the initial one I attended with Joel Fafard, and the next one with Dave Gunning (a concert that found me in tears on more than one occasion). This time when they announced the concert they had another offer, too. Matt and Aileen asked if I would join them for dinner with the artists prior to the show, and I said yes, of course. Any opportunity to meet someone new, to talk with them, to hear their stories, and to share some of Fort Mac is an opportunity I take, and that's how I found myself at Matt and Aileen's house with Betty Soo and Doug Cox eating coq au vin and drinking red wine.

I arrived at their house and was welcomed as usual by their charming dog Harley, who greets you with happy little barks (barks that come out of a very large dog and that would probably intimidate anyone who didn't realize Harley is a kitten dressed up as a very large canine). I chatted with Matt in the kitchen as he cooked (and my buddy Matt is a mean chef, as evidenced by a fabulous meal). I chatted with Aileen as well, talking about our work and our friends and the recent election. And I met Betty Soo and Doug Cox, performers travelling the circuit with Home Routes, the organization that arranges the schedule for house concert experiences.

House concerts are unusual in many ways, including the location of the concert simply being in someone's home. One of the other unique aspects, though, is that the performers stay in the home where the concert is being performed, meaning that those hosting the concert and the performers themselves have the opportunity to spend time together in informal ways. I was delighted to spend my dinner Thursday night with Matt, Aileen, Betty, and Doug, and as the wine flowed so did the conversation.

Betty is a musician from Texas, and Doug is a musician from BC. They have been performing together now for almost two years, and one of the natural questions was how they met - and it turns out they met at a guitar camp in Alaska where they were both teaching. They discovered common musical interests, and I suspect they also found kindred souls in each other as they "play" off each other so well, both musically and personally. One would need to have that sort of relationship in order to do what Betty and Doug have done, which is to tour together almost constantly, playing all over the world.

The conversation over dinner was quite lively, and stories were shared and jokes were told. I knew pretty quickly that if Betty and Doug were as talented with music as they were with a fast quip that we were in for an entertaining evening - and when the concert began I discovered I was quite right.

Betty plays guitar and sings, and her voice is absolutely lovely, clear and resonant. They play cover songs but also songs that Betty has written, and I think my favourites were in fact the ones she has penned. The lyrics are touching and often funny, and reflect the wry sense of humour I noted in Betty at dinner. Doug plays a mean guitar, providing Betty with a fabulous musical partner, and quite frankly a hilarious comedic sparring partner, too.

Betty and Doug like each other, and you can tell - but they also like to harass each other pretty much constantly, and they have the sardonic, sarcastic, and cynical sense of humour I so appreciate. They can take almost any comment and turn it on a dime, making it into a slightly twisted insult. Between songs they banter and play with words and with each other, Doug making small mischievous faces while Betty has perfected a glare that would wither most people. It's hilarious to witness, and as they joked they are the opposite of hecklers as they will occasionally poke a bit of fun at the audience, too. It's all in good fun, of course, and never unkind, but it's also funny as hell and just adds another dimension to their music. It's music with a comedy schtick, and a well done one, too. The music is fantastic and their songs filled Matt and Aileen's living room, while their jokes hung in the air and provided the laughter that drew the audience together.

I rather wish that I could ride along with Betty and Doug as they travel for Home Routes because I bet some days in their car it is quite the ride indeed. I suspect the banter they show on stage continues in that car, but you can tell this duo has deep personal respect for each other as individuals, as musicians, and as performers. And that is perhaps why their performance is so very heart felt and real, and why the audience responds as they do with laughter and applause and genuine appreciation. Betty and Doug are authentic and sincere, genuine in all they do, and it shows.

The concert was terrific, an experience shared with the performers and the audience, and once again I was so grateful to Matt and Aileen for the chance to be a part of it. This time getting to have dinner with the performers just added another dimension to the experience, a backdrop for the performance they gave on the small stage, and it simply gave me a deeper understanding of Doug and Betty, who they are,  and what gives their duo such power. I must admit that towards the end of concert I found myself yawning, not from boredom but rather from sheer exhaustion fuelled by a few weeks of non-stop motion in my life. When the concert ended I said my good byes to Doug and Betty, thanking them for their performance, and to my hosts Matt and Aileen, and then I headed out to my car.

When I got into my car and drove away I thought once again about so many things. I thought about the nature of Doug and Betty's collaboration, and why it worked so well on so many levels (as they say they are not married to each other but like a married couple they spend all their time together, argue, and never have sex). I thought about the joy of friends like Matt and Aileen, people who have become quite important in my life due to their kindnesses towards me and their interest in including me in their lives. And I thought about all the things that happen in this community like house concerts with friends. I thought about the nature of friendship and how in the end that's really what community is all about, the coming together of friends for sarcastic jokes and dinner and some music. And then I drove away and off into the night, into my community of friends.

My sincere and genuine thanks to

Betty Soo and Doug Cox

for a terrific show -

both the music and the comedy!

And my special thanks to

Matt and Aileen

for dinner and the concert - 

and their friendship.

PARTY of Pain

The first thing you hear is the screaming. Screams of anger, screams of fear, and screams of pain. Pain, pain, pain. It's the kind of screaming that cuts right into your core, the kind that makes you feel your blood pressure rise and tightness start in your head. It's the kind of screaming I have been incredibly fortunate to never actually witness, except in a mock collision as I experienced today when I attended the morning session of the PARTY Program.

PARTY, or Prevent Alcohol and Risk-related Youth Trauma, is a one day injury prevention and awareness program intended for Grade Nine students. Yesterday I discovered an invitation to today's event had landed in my email inbox, and I cleared my calendar to go - but I did it with a bit of a heavy heart because even though I knew I had to attend I also knew that it would likely trigger some of the emotions I have been experiencing in the past few days. I knew that this program occurring so soon after the horrific accident on Highway 63 Friday and all that has happened since would likely stir up many of those feelings again for me, but I also knew I had to attend.

The Wood Buffalo RCMP teamed up with several partners to present PARTY today. Each group plays a role in our community, from first responders to victim services to those who work with the offenders who cause these accidents. Each have a very strong stake in making these kinds of accidents stop. And each is dead serious about the impacts these accidents have on everyone, from the victims to the families to the first responders to the community. Listening to them speak about the impacts was powerful enough - but that isn't where the day started. The day started in the parking lot, with a mock collision, and screaming.

Two cars, one t-boning the other. Frantic teenaged "victims" with injuries screaming with fear and pain and anger. Help us, the voices cried. Please, they begged. Oh god, they screamed, oh god. And every single scream, even though acted and likely rehearsed, was chilling. The watching Grade Nine students stood silently, watching, waiting. Watching a tragedy unfold, watching as kids their age suddenly saw their lives changed forever. And I watched them both, the actors in the mock collision and the young audience, watched them as they waited for the first responders to arrive.

Up the emergency vehicles came, lights flashing. Out the first responders poured, quickly assessing the victims in both cars. A yellow tarp, quickly spread over the obviously deceased individual in one car who had been projected through the front window. A blanket for the young woman who walked away from the accident, perhaps only lightly physically injured but scarred forever emotionally. Another young victim, removed from the car and laid on the ground, quickly covered with a yellow tarp. And then to work on a survivor, trapped in a car, screaming in pain and fear. Pain, pain, pain.

Quickly the fire fighters went to work, cutting away the roof of the car to extricate her. Quickly the EMTs place an IV and assess her condition. Quickly, quickly, quickly, so fast I could not follow every action and move. And then the arrival of a father, distraught, screaming, shouting out that this couldn't be happening, not his daughter, not his baby. Pain, pain, pain.

She is quickly removed and taken to a waiting ambulance for transport to hospital. And then it is over, the accident scene. Except it will never be over, two young bodies covered in yellow tarps, two families destroyed, hundreds more friends and family members in tears, and a community devastated yet again by the loss of life in an unnecessary, preventable away. The ambulance will drive away. The bodies will be removed. The police investigation will finish and they will leave. The cars will be put on flatbeds and disappear. Rain will come and wash away the shattered glass and the debris. But it can't wash away the pain. Nothing will ever make the pain go away.

I stood there a bit stunned as it unfolded before me, going places in my head that I should avoid. I looked at the young audience and saw several in tears. While it was a mock collision I knew they were going the same places in their heads, places that saw their friends dead or dying - or themselves.

We walked inside then, and I collected myself while we listened to some speakers. A young RCMP officer spoke about doing next of kin notifications, and how it never gets easier to walk up to someone's door, ring the bell, and then devastate their lives with the news that their loved one is gone. A Victims Services worker talked about the families in pain, how Victims Services stays when the officers leave, and how they must help families pick up shattered pieces of their lives. Two young women from corrections speak about the impact on those who cause such accidents, the charges they face and how that changes their lives. And then an EMT speaks about the impact of one accident on a local woman, and how it changed her life. He was the EMT who responded to the accident, one so horrific and a car so mangled they thought it impossible anyone could possibly survive, and yet she did, but carrying so many physical and emotional scars. And with every speaker I saw it again. An RCMP officer close to tears, a Victims Services worker, corrections workers, an EMT - pain, pain, pain.

While they were speaking you could hear a pin drop in the room. An entire group of Grade Nine students, normally boisterous and rowdy, silent. Heads bowed down. Faces looking a bit flushed, and some close to tears. You see they felt the pain, too.

The students day went on after I left. They were going to visit the hospital, to see a trauma presentation and view the morgue - and then to have a session to help them deal with all they had seen and felt that day, to help them to cope with the inevitable flood of emotions. I suspect I could have asked to go to the hospital, too, but I didn't. Because I knew I simply couldn't cope with it, couldn't visit the emergency room and the morgue without experiencing a very public emotional breakdown. I knew I had reached my limit for the day.

I got in my car and began to drive home, a massive headache forming behind my eyes. I knew why it was there. It was there because I had been holding in my tears, refusing to cry yet again after a weekend when it seemed I couldn't shed any more tears. I headed home, my head pounding, in search of a Tylenol and maybe to lie down, to escape the pain. And when I got home I cried instead. Pain, pain, pain.

There might be those who think holding PARTY today was inappropriate given the accident late last week. Instead I think it was the perfect timing, that accident fresh in the hearts and heads of everyone in attendance. While I suspect PARTY is always deeply impacting I also suspect today was even more so as we have collectively as a community experienced loss and grief and pain on an incredible scale in the past few days. I would like to thank all those who organized PARTY, those who invited me to attend, the actors, and, most especially, the students who I saw there today. Those students hold their lives, and the lives of those around them, in their hands every time they get behind the steering wheel of a car.   I hope today they learned what a responsibility they carry, and I hope they make the kinds of decisions that ensure the safety of themselves and others. I thank them in advance for doing this, because their decisions will impact not only their future but the future of every one of us in this community.

Highway of Heartache - Highway 63

Usually this blog is quite "wordy". I've been told I am "eloquent", which may really be a euphemism for "doesn't know when to stop", but normally I fill this blog with words that often (but not always) flow quite easily from my mind to my fingertips. Not today, though. Today I am going to share some images instead.

The following photos were sent to me by someone named Robert Ionitescu. He sent them to me after I posted my open letter to the Premier, and he did so because he wanted me to share them. And so I share them with all of you.

Robert took these photos along Highway 63, you see. He took these photos of these roadside memorials to pay tribute to those who lost their lives on that highway, a highway he too has driven. I'd like you to look at those photos and remember that each one is a symbol for someone killed. Each one represents a family in grief. Each one represents a loss with profound ripple effects through a family and a community. Each one matters. And these are only some of the people who have died on what I now think of as the Highway of Heartache.

At the end of this blog is another set of photos. When you look at them I hope you are reminded why we cannot ever give up on making Highway 63 safer, whatever it takes - twinning, increased police presence, and thinking about our own driving behaviours.

Highway 63 Memorials

And these photos are difficult to look at, I know. In fact they hurt me every time I see them and yet they remind me of why this matters.

 Mark and Courtney Penney,

victims of the tragic accident on Highway 63

on April 27. Mark survived. His wife, 

and their unborn child, did not.

Shannon, Trena, Timothy, and Benjamin Wheaton.

Timothy was the sole survivor in his family

of the accident on Highway 63 on April 27.

Timothy is only three years old.

This final photo is the one that haunts me. There were three other victims of the crash on Highway 63.  Dan Sennett, an as-of-yet unidentified passenger, and this young girl:

Faith Kondusky-Sennett

That is Faith, as the caption says. That is the young woman who sparked my open letter to Premier Alison Redford. That is the young woman who has haunted me since this all began. That is the young woman who survived the accident only to later die of her injuries. And that young woman, that beautiful face, so close in age to my own daughter, is my catalyst.

I think her very name says it all to me. Faith. I have faith that we can make Highway 63 safe. I have faith we can get it twinned, and that we can address some of the driving behaviours that endanger us. And I have something else. I have, in my mind, made a personal commitment to Faith. I have committed that I will do whatever I can as a mother, a writer, and a citizen, to ensure that what happened to her doesn't happen to anyone else. I don't want to disappoint her faith in me. I don't want us to disappoint her faith in all of us, people. Look at those faces above. Then look above at the roadside memorials, like the memorials sure to spring up where seven people died on Friday. I don't want my family, or yours, to become roadside memorials instead of smiling faces. We have had their faith placed in us to ensure that this doesn't keep happening. And I have no intention of breaking that faith. Not today - and not ever. I will keep the faith - and Faith, and all the rest who lost their lives - in my heart. And it will be the catalyst that moves me forward on this issue every day. Every single day.

To hear a raw, honest, and moving discussion

on the accident and the issues surrounding Highway 63

please check out the YMMPodcast episode

Highway of Heartache.

Steve, Ashley, Toddske, Tito, Matt, and I

recorded it live Sunday night,

and I was absolutely honoured to be part of it.

It is right from the heart.