Why Arkham Is Rising Around the Globe

A couple of months ago my friends at YMMPodcast hinted they were working on a new project. They asked me for a wee bit of assistance, and I gladly gave it as I knew whatever the project was that it would be incredible. You see, I've just come to expect that from them, as Toddske and Tito are pretty incredible men who put their passion and vision to work, and combine it with a drive that achieves results. They didn't tell me the details of the project, and I didn't ask, content to know that eventually they would share it with me. And share it with me they did, as I got a sneak preview of a fan film short that they have now not only shared with me but about 50,000 viewers all over the planet. That project, now gone viral, is called Arkham Rising.

This is probably where I should share that I'm not really a huge fan of superhero movies. Oh, I like them, don't get me wrong, but when you get into the details of characters and plot you will lose me. The beauty though is that you don't need to be a huge fan to appreciate Arkham Rising. All you need is an eye for quality, and appreciation for skill, and an understanding of what it takes to take something from idea to reality. If you have that you quickly see that Arkham Rising is a masterpiece.

You see this fan film short was created using all local talent, filmed in all local places. It is directed by Tito Guillen, a man who is rapidly gaining attention as a strong film-maker, and produced by Toddske, a man becoming known for his passionate "can do" attitude about everything. You combine those two forces, stir in some spectacular local talent, add in some people and organizations who allowed them to film it in their buildings, and what you have is spectacular. You have Fort McMurray arts and culture at it's finest. You have a showpiece you can send to friends with the message "this was done right here, by people I know". You have something of which the entire community can be proud.

Oh, there may be diehard superhero fans who may quibble with the details of this fan film short, or who debate the finer points, but that isn't really what matters. What matters is people who take an idea and run with it, who are able to take an idea from concept to reality, who are able to take a little fan film short and let it flow around the world. To say I am proud to know the people involved in this is ridiculous. I am beyond proud. I am honoured to know them and call them friends.

There is another video, this one about the making of Arkham Rising. I suggest watching it too, as you can see the attention to detail the director and producer employed on this project. It shows you how seriously they took this, and how they went about taking an idea, casually tossed about, and turned it into something that people all over the planet have now enjoyed. Perhaps you don't see the impact of that, but I do. I see how a group of people with a common goal can take a concept and turn it into a success. I see commitment to excellence, and I see passion and vision and drive. And I see community, too, a community of friends and others who work together to achieve a product of which they can be proud. And so they should be proud - just as proud as I am, although I was proud to know them even long before this project. I have just been proud to be their friend.

Arkham Rising

Arkham Rising - Behind the Scenes

Vinyl Cafe, Stuart McLean, and Listening With My Eyes Closed

You know, I wasn't going to blog about the recent two-night stint Stuart McLean and The Vinyl Cafe spent in our community. After all it happened last week already, and this seems like old news. I decided, however, to blog about it for two reasons. First, there are no rules to blogging, which is really the joy of the whole exercise. One can blog about what they want when they want and then just throw it out there, to be read or unread. The second reason is that some moments of the evening I spent with Stuart have stayed with me, and I feel the need to share them. And so this blog post is written, because really blogging is all about making your own rules and sharing whatever you think you need to share.

When I first heard Stuart McLean was coming to town I snatched up tickets as soon as they went on sale. You see I've been listening to him on CBC Radio for many years, his tales of Morley and Dave, their children and their friends, their neighbours and their adventures in life. Stuart is a masterful storyteller, perhaps the very best in the business, and I have spent many hours in rapt attention as his voice poured out of a radio or a car stereo or a pair of earphones. Many years ago I introduced the Intrepid Junior Blogger to the joy of The Vinyl Cafe, and have many times been delighted to find her in her room, listening to Stuart on the radio on her own accord, seeking him out as I have sought him out over the years. It has always felt somehow like Morley and Dave and their lives were part of our lives, too. They had become like family, and so too had the storyteller who deftly wove the narrative of their lives.

And so I bought three tickets, enough so our entire little family could go, and we found ourselves in Keyano Theatre anxiously awaiting the arrival of Stuart. That morning, while the Junior Blogger was eating her breakfast, I had played one of the Christmas stories from The Vinyl Cafe. It is entitled "Ferrets for Christmas", and since the Junior Blogger owns and adores three little ferrets of her own (variously known as "the weasels", "the wuffles", and "the woozles") I knew she would love the story of another Sam, this one a little boy, bringing home the class ferret over the Christmas holidays. She was enchanted with the story, and while her usual morning routine includes some time on the X-Box before school she happily spent that time listening to a tale about Christmas and family and ferrets instead.

That night when Stuart took the stage I think we all were a bit awestruck. None of us had ever seen him live, but as soon as he began to speak and that distinctive and melodious voice poured into the theatre we felt right at home. It was the same voice that had spoken to us almost every Sunday for years, a voice that had accompanied us on long car trips through the Canadian wilderness as we drove home from places like Edmonton and Saskatoon and Kenora and Dryden. It was the voice that had kept me company as I baked cookies and did crafts and, a very long time ago it seems, rocked a small baby to sleep. Hearing that voice was like magic, but there was only one problem for me. I couldn't look at Stuart.

You see I think for so long it has been just a voice, and I found watching Stuart, his hands flapping as he gesticulated points, his body in motion, too distracting. It threw me completely, and I felt quite off, like something wasn't quite right. And so I sank back into my chair at the theatre, closed my eyes - and there it was. Magic.

As soon as I closed my eyes and just let his voice wash over me I felt renewed. I listened as Stuart recounted three new Dave and Morley stories, taking us to a backyard waterpark, a yoga retreat, and a garden in the autumn. As he went on and the stories were told I found myself opening my eyes, having needed to only close them for a brief time to centre myself, and to centre that iconic voice. When I opened my eyes I no longer found Stuart's actual presence distracting, and instead I welcomed the nuances his live performance added to the stories I have come to love.

The Vinyl Cafe always has a musical guest, and so too it was here in Fort Mac when musician Harry Manx joined Stuart's regular musicians to play a few numbers. Harry is a talent indeed, someone who explores music the way a writer explores words, and the creativity he embodies is one I respect to my core.

At one point Stuart took questions from the audience, and someone asked him about writing. When he explained his process - how long it seems to take going from first pot of coffee to first actual word written, I laughed, and even more so when the Junior Blogger whispered "That sounds just like how YOU work!" as indeed it is. It is so fascinating to hear how he writes, and where, because I am always curious about the creative process of others. Later that night I would tweet that if I could write one-tenth as well as Stuart I would feel accomplished, and that is the truth. He is not only a masterful storyteller but a powerful writer, as every story he writes shows - but one in particular that evening caught me.

When Stuart told of Morley's garden in the autumn it was so evocative I almost cried. I could feel tears form in the corners of my eyes, as fall is my favourite season, and every fall I feel both happy and melancholy. I always feel that fall is entirely too short a season, over too soon and not giving you enough time to adjust from the bright, warm days of summer to the dark, cold days of winter. And yet I still love autumn, that all-too-brief season of change as the natural world quiets for the winter, and my heart thinks of all the autumns past. That the Intrepid Junior Blogger was born in fall should come as no surprise as in my life it seems all the best things have occurred in that season.

And so Stuart spoke of autumn and I was moved to tears. The other stories had made me laugh, but this one made me remember instead, made me recall the autumn my little girl was born, and all the autumns since. It made me wonder about all the autumns to come. With simple words, carefully crafted and delivered in that voice I have come to know so well, Stuart painted a picture right before my eyes, and I sat humbled by both the beauty of the story and his skill in creating it.

When I began this post I commented that I had spent the evening with Stuart. And okay, it was me and him and about 400 other people, and yet somehow it felt like it was just me and him chatting over tea as winter began to swirl outside. When Stuart commented that he felt like he was in Fort McMurray's living room that night I had to agree. It did not feel like we were inside a theatre at all. It felt, for all intent and purposes, like we were home.

And perhaps that is where the true power of a writer and storyteller like Stuart McLean lies. Perhaps it is his ability to make a theatre feel like home, even when normally you hear his stories in your own home or car. While at the beginning of the evening I could not watch him, had found it too disconcerting, by the end of the evening I felt like I was sitting at home in my favourite chair, radio tuned into The Vinyl Cafe, a mug of coffee beside me, and my eyes closed as I let the stories wash over me and into my heart. I truly hope he comes back to Fort McMurray some day, bringing with him new stories of Dave and Morley and their lives, but until then I will listen to him on the radio, eyes closed, and heart wide open.

Keyano Foundation Gala Discovery 2012 (Or A Better Late Than Never Blog Post)

Yes, people, I know this blog about the Keyano College Foundation Gala Discovery is a little late, especially given it happened on Saturday and as I sit to write this it is Wednesday. But you see the day after the gala I was on a Red Arrow bus bright and early, headed to Edmonton (a bit of poor planning, that, as a late night at the gala made a rather grumpy bus traveller the next morning). I arrived in Edmonton and discovered that I was having issues with certain website and internet functions, this one in particular, and so I have been anxiously checking every day to see if I was finally going to be able to share my thoughts - and here I am, so I guess today is the day.

I've written about the Keyano Gala before, last year in fact as it was the first time I ever attended. It is interesting to return to an event you've already experienced once, as you cannot help but draw comparisons. You find yourself comparing the food and drinks and atmosphere and entertainment, and you find yourself trying to determine if this year is "better" than the last. The funny thing is that each year is different - and yet each year the staff and volunteers who organize Keyano Gala manage to pull off a stellar event. This year, Gala Discovery 2012, was no different.

The kind folks at Keyano invited me to attend as media, something for which I am truly grateful. You see, I try to keep this blog revenue neutral, meaning I make no money from it and I try to expend as little money on it as possible (although I have and do buy tickets to various things to experience them with the aim of writing about them). Being invited as media allows me to continue this blog without it becoming a financial issue, and so right off the top I want to thank them for that and that alone. But I have far more to thank them for, too.

It's a bit ironic that last Saturday morning I got in my car very early, when it was still dark, and plugged in my iPhone. My music list, set to shuffle, immediately began to play Honeymoon Suite, and those who were there know that band was one of those who played the gala last year. I instantly got a smile on my face as I thought it must be an omen, a sign of good things to come later that night, and I was not wrong.

As the day went on I began to prepare for Gala. I had an appointment to get my hair done, something I very rarely do, and when that was completed I set about finally deciding what to wear. You see, I had two choices, and I had been torn for days. When I was in Vancouver this summer I had purchased a lovely designer gown, intending it for gala, but more recently I had purchased something that I had fallen in love with. It was an outfit from Nisa Collection, a purveyor of fine clothes from Pakistan, and when I found it I felt like a princess. I took out both gowns, and hung them on my closet doors. And while the designer gown was lovely the gown from Pakistan sang to me, because it hummed with the very theme of the gala. Discovery. Exploration. For me this gown had personal meaning because it sang to me of my journey of discover and exploration over this last year, including forays into our tremendous cultural diversity and all the wonderful people who embraced me when I wandered into their culture from my own. I plucked down the Pakistani gown, put the other back in the closet, and found the most sparkly glittery shoes I own.

I drove up to the Syncrude Sport and Wellness Centre early as the media got a little advance peek before the guests arrived, and in I walked to once again discover that the facility had been transformed. Somehow they do it every year, take a recreational facility and turn it into a nightclub venue, with an amazing atmosphere, scattered bars and food stations, an enormous stage, and, this year, an enormous screen stretching behind that stage and far beyond. The screen, the largest in North America, allowed everyone a closer glimpse of what was happening onstage, and provided an incredible backdrop that allowed for images of explorers and discoverers to be displayed. The screen, tied in with so many nautical touches from the prow of a ship to themed ice sculptures, helped to create the desired feeling for the gala, a sense of exploration and discovery.

I suppose I should mention the basics, like the food (which was terrific, and I'm genuinely embarrassed to say how many times I visited the dessert station that was entirely too close to my table), and the drinks (I only had the complimentary glass of champagne upon entry, as I was working and taking a bus very early the next day). Every report I heard on the food, which was supplied by Chartwells Catering, was positive, with many of my table mates complaining of unhappy and full bellies and yet appearing again and again with more food. The bars were popular as usual, with many commenting particularly on the scotch tasting bar (an area that was empty when I arrived and virtually impassable for the rest of the evening due to being clogged with people). And then there were the silent auction items and raffles, stunning items once again up for offer. There was the live auction, with trips to Prague and Paris waiting to be won by highest bid (and with auctioneer extraordinaire Ross Jacobs once again burning up the stage as he cajoled, teased, and generally harassed bidders until extracting the highest possible price). There were the usual speeches from those associated with the college, and then, in what was likely the most anticipated moment, there was the live entertainment.

Country band Hey Romeo was the surprise musical opening act, and they played to an appreciative audience, many of whom had seen them before when they have visited us to play. And then the reason I suspect many queued up to buy tickets to the gala this year hit the stage. You see tickets to gala sold out very rapidly, and while I know some of it had to do with the amazing food and atmosphere and drinks and general fun of gala some of it also had to do with a woman that many in the crowd had come to see - LeAnn Rimes.

I will admit here, just as I have often before, that I am not a fan of country music. I suppose it comes from a childhood of being subjected to it on long family drives, strapped down and forced to listen to country and western (as it was then known). Instead of developing a taste for it rather the opposite happened (which likely explains my fascination with alternative and punk music as I grew). The thing is, though, that regardless of where my musical preference lies I can recognize talent, and there is no doubt that Miss Rimes has considerable talent. The crowd was gathered around the stage before she even walked up the steps, anxiously waiting for the first note, the first glimpse, the first song - and they were not disappointed when she appeared looking fresh and happy and putting on a stunning performance, if slightly briefer than they'd hoped.

So you see now we are at the part where I am going to say some more thanks. As I said earlier I am grateful for the invitation to attend as media, but I am grateful for far more. I am grateful to Keyano College Foundation for working so hard to pull off an event that I know takes months of planning to execute. I am grateful to them for working so hard to raise money that will benefit the students who gain their education through Keyano College. I am grateful to all the volunteers who make this event possible, who work tirelessly to make it all appear effortless (when reality it is like a duck on water, appearing calm from above and paddling like hell underneath the surface). I suppose, though, I am most grateful to the community that comes out every year and supports events like this. They buy their gala tickets, they bid on the silent and live auctions, they buy tickets for raffles, they buy new dresses and rent tuxes and get their hair done (supporting the local economy), they eat the food and drink the alcohol and dance the night away to performers brought in especially for them to enjoy. It is, I suppose, to all of these people I say thank you, from the staff and volunteers to the community who simply comes out to support it all. In the end, community is exactly this - a gathering of people who share an evening, an event, a cause, and a place that we all call home. So galas might seem to be about food and drinks and music and dancing - but, in the end, they really are all about community. And that, people, is a cause I can always support.

Chateau Boo - The Horror of Haunted Houses and Neighbourhood Disputes

I am not a fan of haunted houses. There, I admitted it. In fact the Intrepid Junior Blogger now refuses to accompany me to anything scary because of my innate tendency to scream, cry, run, and sucker punch anyone who pops out unexpectedly. She's terrified I'll end up in jail, or, even worse, embarrass her, and so this past week when I wanted to take in Chateau Boo I found myself looking for company (because the only thing worse than a haunted house is going into one alone).

I posted on Facebook and my friend Toddske from YMMPodcast immediately said he'd join me, and then a young woman named Fiona who I met a few months ago said she didn't like haunted houses either but wanted to check it out. Toddske suggested she join us, and so it was set, the three of us headed to Dunvegan Gardens on Tuesday night to get scared.

I was pleased when at a recent municipal council meeting the decision was made to allow Chateau Boo to go ahead at Dunvegan this year. It's fairly complicated with a lot of stuff like bylaws and rewording and a neighbourhood dispute gotten ugly and apparently the involvement of solders who fought for freedom (don't ask about that bit, I don't get that either but someone opposing the holding of special events at Dunvegan brought this up). The long and short of it is that this year Chateau Boo had a home (a good thing too since it was already pretty much built by that time and the cancellation would have disappointed hundreds of children - and adults) but next year the future is uncertain as the situation on Draper Road continues to wind it's way through the the municipal administration and the court of public opinion. Regardless, this year The Boo got the green light, which is how I ended up there two nights ago.

Now, it was supposed to be Toddske and Fiona and I, but at the very final hour Toddske sent a message saying he had been "delayed at site due to accidents". I'm willing to grant this is possible but it could also be interpreted as "scared to scream like a little girl in front of two women", so you take your pick. All I know is that this left two women to face Chateau Boo alone, and two women who had already admitted to not being fans of horror.

Look, I don't even like horror movies. I watched Paranormal Activity and it made me scared to go into my laundry room alone, although the Intrepid Junior Blogger told me it was the lamest horror movie ever made (so I didn't tell her about the laundry room, although the family dog is getting really tired of being dragged in there to keep me company while I put a load in the wash). So tackling Chateau Boo was a bit like scaling Everest for me, right down to possibly needing an oxygen tank to get through it.

When we arrived at Dunvegan it was cold and dark, about 8:30, and I heard some screaming. Okay, it was some kids playing outside but it still set my teeth on edge. We walked to the entrance, opened the door, and stepped into the den of horrors.

Oh, it seemed innocuous enough on the surface, the admission guy who took our money and stamped our hands. But things got a little weird with the creepy figure at the entrance banging the baby doll against the wall. It was dark and it was a bit cold and frankly I was already horrified and I hadn't gone in yet.

After it was all over Fiona thanked me for going first, but I'm thinking maybe she misunderstood. I haven't seen a lot of horror movies but I've seen enough to know that I'm not the one who is going to be at the back of the line, as they are always the ones who are noticed missing at some point with people saying "hey, where did so-and-so go?". So-and-so ended up getting their brain eaten or some other such terror, and so while she thought I was being brave it was purely self-protection. We entered the haunted house and I went right into my "haunted house" mode.

What's that, you ask? Well, it's back to the wall, sidling along very slowly, cautiously lifting the drapes separating the rooms. It's peering carefully around corners and watching for shadows. It's being ready to run for the nearest exit, and trying to control my hands so they don't form fists and sucker punch some creature of the night that is just an actor in a suit. It's me, wearing not heels but Timberland boots, not a dress but jeans, with enough adrenalin in my system to run a marathon as if a horde of zombies were nipping at my brain.

And so we went through Chateau Boo, me in front, sidling along the walls. There were some hallways that particularly disturbed me, the white-sheeted one with bloodstains and body parts particularly making me wary. There was the werewolf character that seemed so still that I was sure it was a mannequin until I approached close enough for him to jump out at me eliciting a shrill shriek. There was the creepy baby in the crib, and all the rest. And then, just as we entered one hallway, there was a shadow on the floor. It was the shadow of hair.

Not just any hair, but clown hair. I whispered "There is a creepy clown right behind this corner", and when I turned there he was. Look, people, nobody likes clowns. I apologize if you are of the clowning-kind but frankly Stephen King ruined clowns forever, at least finishing clowns off for those of us who thought there might still be some hope for them and hadn't already been clown-traumatized. Clowns are now part of the creepy lexicon, and in fact might just be the creepiest. So, when I turned the corner and saw the clown the same words left my lips that I had been chanting since we entered Chateau Boo: "DO. NOT. LIKE." But I went into "do not like" overdrive, repeating it as we finished The Boo, left the last room, and dashed out to our respective cars. I'm pretty sure every person in Chateau Boo from the nice security people at the escape doors to the werewolf to the clown was pretty sure where I stood on things - "do not like".

And the funny thing is while I did not like the clowns and the body parts and the gore I LOVED Chateau Boo. I said good-bye to Fiona and got in my car, and sat there for a few minutes while I collected myself. I realized that I had some sort of chemical rush going on in my system, a fight-or-flight reaction that had pretty much taken over my body, and I knew I needed to calm down a bit. I had been frightened, no doubt, but in such a good way. As many of you know Chateau Boo is a fundraiser for the local Boys and Girls Club, an organization that does such amazing work in our community. They are one of the many non-profit organizations here that does so much with so little, that preserves the quality of life in this community, with staff and volunteers that give of themselves so others may benefit.They have been putting on Chateau Boo for many years now, and it has become a staple part of the local pre-Halloween scene. And I am damn proud of them all for doing it, too, even in the face of adversity and a neighbourhood dispute and all the other headaches that go along with mounting this kind of event.

I'm going to take a moment to talk about that neighbourhood dispute here, and some won't like what I have to say - but I am going to say it anyhow. One of the comments made to council about not allowing an exception for events like Chateau Boo was that it wasn't just that they didn't want it in their backyard, but that it shouldn't be in anyone's backyard - and I fundamentally disagree. If Chateau Boo wanted to set up in my backyard I would let them, because even though I am not a fan of haunted houses I am a fan of what this event does for the Boys and Girls Club. A few nights of inconvenience and shrieks and cars and people and laughter? I could deal with all that because I would be PROUD to have it be part of my neighbourhood and community. I would be delighted to be part of it in any way. I would try to put aside any animosity that had been generated by a neighbourhood dispute and I would instead delight in a community coming together with laughter and screaming and clowns. What I saw Tuesday night was not a defiant act of those who wished to disrupt a quiet little country residential neighbourhood. What I saw was not the latest salvo in a neighbourhood dispute raging out of control and threatening to rip apart the very neighbourhood it hopes to protect. What I saw was a little non-profit organization trying to raise some funds in a very fun, very scary, and very community-minded way. Others may see it differently, and they are entitled to do so, but that is what I saw. Well, all that and a clown, too.

So, Chateau Boo. Thanks for the memories, the adrenalin rush, the sleepless night, and the clown nightmare. Thanks for making me remember why haunted houses are so great, and reminding me why I shouldn't watch horror movies. Thanks for giving me a chance to look brave while actually leaving poor unsuspecting Fiona behind me so that she got eaten first should there be a zombie attack. Most of all, thanks for raising money for The Boys and Girls Club. In the end I "do not like" clowns and zombies and werewolves and neighbourhood disputes - but I really, really like Chateau Boo, and all that it stands for, too.

My sincere thanks to

The Boys and Girls Club

and all the volunteers

who made Chateau Boo a reality this year,

to Fiona for coming with me,

and to RMWB council

for allowing Chateau Boo 2012

to be a reality.

And to the creepy clown - yeah.

I still don't like you.

And I'm not sorry, either.

Kraft Dinner, A Gala, and Hope - Centre of Hope KD Gala

There is a little building on Franklin Avenue. Once it was a little blue building, although it has had a recent facelift and is no longer blue, although in my mind it may always be the little blue building. It is not a big building, and yet it helped over 22,000 people last year alone. It is a place of concern, of caring, of support, and, most importantly, of hope. It is, in fact, the Centre of Hope.

I've written about the Centre of Hope before, more than once. I have written about how the patrons and staff have captured my heart, and how this little building and those inside it have somehow become one of my favourite places in this community. I have written some of the stories of those who use the centre, and I have told of my experiences there. This past weekend I had the pleasure of attending the KD Gala, the fundraiser the Centre hosts to raise funds for the United Way.

The KD Gala is a bit different from some of the other galas in this community. I don't want to detract from them in any way, with their glitz and glamour, but the KD Gala is not like those. It is not glamourous, but heartfelt. It is not about ball gowns and diamonds but about jeans and something far more precious than diamonds. It is about life.

You see the patrons at the Centre of Hope are homeless, either those who are chronically in that state or in a transient situation. They are often "sleeping rough" on our streets, finding warm places to curl up at night, especially in the winter when the mercury drops and the weather is cruel. This past spring I had a chance to experience homelessness for just one night at the "Hope in the Dark" event the Centre hosted. The experience changed me. One night quickly showed me how hopeless you could become living on the streets, and how quickly you could descend into a very dark place. But in those dark places the Centre of Hope shines a beacon of light. The Centre of Hope changes lives, and it quite likely saves them.

Over the past few years we have lost many homeless individuals in this community. They have died as they lived, on the streets. This troubles me more than I can express, and it brings me to tears as I comprehend fellow human beings ending their lives this way. I cannot stand the idea of any of them dying alone, or facing their struggles alone. And so the Centre of Hope stands for me as a place where those who are homeless are not alone. They have a place where they are welcomed, not judged, and supported, not turned away. They find a community of other patrons and staff who care about them, and about their struggles. If they lose their lives on our streets, as too many have, they are mourned. They are missed. They may be homeless, but they are not without a home in some sense as the Centre becomes a daytime home for them, a place to be safe and warm and find comfort. And for this the Centre of Hope has won my heart, because in a community where we often find ourselves dazzled by the glitz and glamour this little building - this little community - shines as a true gem.

The KD Gala is a fundraiser, make no doubt, with a live auction (hosted once again by the indomitable Phil Meagher, someone who has rapidly become one of my favourite people in this community, with his quick wit and complete lack of a filter), and a silent auction. The food is not the swanky cocktails and hors d'oeuvres served at most galas but rather water and pop and dishes based on Kraft Dinner, that most basic of foods (and one most of us existed on at some point in our lives). The setting this year was inside the McMurray Gospel Assembly (and it was lovely, too, lovingly decorated and set up as a dining room instead of a church). The servers were volunteers, and the attendees were community members wearing not ball gowns and tuxedos but casual clothing. And yet somehow every year this little gala stands out as it focuses not on food and cocktails and decor and gowns but rather on people, and on their needs.

For me this year the highlight was a poem read by a woman identified only as Jackie. The voice came over the loudspeaker system of the church, a voice that was clearly a bit rough around the edges. It was the voice of someone who has seen hard times. And the poem was one that took my breath away, that brought me to tears as Jackie expressed what her life is like, and her fears.

You see Jackie's poem, entitled "My Sorrow", focused a great deal on what the mistakes she has made in her life have done to her children and her relationship with them. It spoke of the love a mother has for her children, and of her sorrow and regret that her choices have hurt them. It made me want to hug Jackie, to tell her that my own parents, while not sharing her same problems, were also imperfect and that I did not love them despite their imperfections but rather because of them, because they were so utterly human. I wanted to tell Jackie that both my parents, now long gone, had their own issues and struggles and that through it all I loved them, and love them to this very day.

This year I brought some people with me to the KD Gala. They are students from Calgary who were in the region filming a documentary on life in our community. When they contacted me several weeks ago I provided them with names of people to contact, and suggestions of places to go. And one of the things I suggested was coming with me to the KD Gala. Some may wonder at this, at why I would suggest they go to this gala that exposes some of our problems in this community instead of trying to direct them to purely positive experiences. The explanation is simple - because we DO have problems, and because we ARE doing things about them. We are doing things like supporting a little once-blue building on Franklin Avenue, and all the work they do there. We are addressing those issues, not pretending they don't exist. We are bidding in live and silent auctions and eating Kraft Dinner and raising money for the United Way so the United Way can support places like the Centre of Hope. I think, perhaps, places like the Centre of Hope show what is truly best about this community and the people in it. I think maybe they are our masterpieces as we show our commitment to the other humans in our midst, those who are suffering and struggling. I think, just maybe, our crown jewel might be a little building on Franklin Avenue that dispenses oatmeal and coffee and hot showers and 15,000 pairs of socks annually - and hope, the kind of hope that sustains you in a world that can, at times, seem hopeless. Just maybe the Centre of Hope symbolizes what we are really all about here. Maybe, in the end, we are all about hope.

My sincere thanks to

The Centre of Hope

their staff,

and all the volunteers

who participated in

The KD Gala -

and for the work they do every day.

My thanks to 

The United Way

for all they do in this community.

And my thanks to a community

that supports organizations like

The Centre of Hope

and enables them to continue

to give hope to others.

During the KD Gala local Lorraine Demers performed a rendition of this.

I would like to share it with you.

One Young Woman, A Crazy Number of Dogs, and A Challenge - Mush McMurray Takes on the Yukon Quest

Photo credit to Christina Traverse "Mush McMurray"

As regular readers of this blog already know I am quite obsessed with three qualities - passion, vision, and drive. When I meet someone who possesses these qualities it isn't long until I too am infused with their passion and vision, and it often doesn't even matter what it revolves around. When it happens to involve something that I am already curious about, interested in, or find intriguing then it occurs even more quickly - and so it was when I had lunch recently with Christina Traverse, a young woman who has become associated with the moniker "Mush McMurray".

What's unusual about Christina, you might ask? Well, she's a lovely young woman, intelligent and funny, but that isn't the really unusual bit. The unusual bit is that she is a musher, someone who has sled dogs and participates in the world of sled dog racing. It's a world that is a bit foreign to me, but one that has roots and tradition that go far, far back in our northern Canadian culture. Christina wasn't always a sled dog owner and racer, although she told me that when she was young, long before sled dogs entered her life, she would harness up her brother and drive him around pretending he was a sled dog, and then the family dog became the target of her game (likely once her brother started hiding when he saw her coming, I imagine). It seems Christina was fated to end up as a musher, and so she has, a young woman of 23 participating in a sport and hobby that tends to not be the first choice of many young women.

When Christina and I sat down we talked about how she got into sled dogs, and how she has participated in some sled dog races. We talked about the epitome of sled dog racing, the Iditarod, and how that gruelling race challenges even the most seasoned of competitors. And then she began to tell me about the race she will take on in 2013, a race called the Yukon Quest, and while the Iditarod sounded difficult the Yukon Quest didn't sound like a picnic, either.

You see the Yukon Quest is a 1000-mile race, running from Whitehorse, Yukon, to Fairbanks, Alaska. 1000 miles doesn't sound so awful in terms of a car trip but when you start to talk about it as a dog sled race, through a thousand miles of wilderness, in snow and ice, and with temperatures dropping to -60 degrees, it suddenly starts to sound a lot less like a trip and a lot more like an ordeal. I watched Christina's face and while I suspect my face showed some fear hers showed excitement at the thought of taking on such a daunting task. She talked about her sled and boots and sleeping bag and special equipment and "snow hooks" (to stop the sled and keep the dogs in place when you stop, an essential piece of equipment as she told me what happens when you stop to answer a call of nature and the dogs decide to take off, sled flying behind them, and you, pants around your ankles, racing behind them to catch up). There was a moment her face truly lit up, though, and it wasn't when she talked about the prizes at the end of the Quest or the accolades. It was when she spoke about her dogs.

Christina loves her dogs, and that is very plain. She currently has 22, with another 7 dogs coming soon. I can't imagine taking care of that many of anything, let alone barking, howling, pooping, and whining creatures, and yet she is absolutely calm about it. This is a young woman who pours all her money into those dogs, buying food and paying vet bills, ensuring that their well-being is secure. She spoke at length about her research on different dog foods, on needing to ensure they have enough fat and protein for peak performance and health, and I quickly realized that dog sledding is part history, part sport, and part science.

Christina is training hard for the Yukon Quest, often taking the sled dogs out for runs that last from before dawn until well after dusk, because even when the day of sledding is over there are dogs to feed and clean, pet and cuddle. I asked her the biggest challenges of the Quest and some were those I hadn't even thought about, like sleep deprivation. After all, how does one sleep when you are supposed to be trying to cover dozens of miles in a day, and when the dogs require attention, and when if you drift off you fear the dogs could take off and leave you behind in the cold? (I doubt I'd sleep a wink with that fear in the back of my head, frankly) And then there are all the other more mundane concerns, like freezing your feet or your hands, you or the dogs getting ill or injured, problems with equipment...the more she spoke the more I knew I could never do something like this, but the more she spoke the more animated she became. You see Christina isn't "in it to win it", although she would like to post a respectable finish. No, she would like to simply finish at all, to achieve something that few people will ever even attempt, to challenge herself and her abilities and her will to see if she can do it at all. And she wants to do it with the dogs she loves, and with whom she shares a deep and enduring bond.

One of the things Christina needs is sponsors. Sponsors help a dog sledder to pay for essentials, and they too can become a part of the team with their name and logo displayed to show their support of the musher. Sponsors can do more, though, especially in an instance like this because Christina is, in my opinion, a shining example of what young people can do in this community. She has a dream, a dream that began perhaps when she was harnessing up her poor brother to race him around the house, and she has followed it. She has encountered obstacles, no doubt, and she will continue to find many blocking her path - but in Christina I see that Fort McMurray spirit that will help her find a way around - or right over - any obstacles in her way. I think local businesses would do well to find a way to support this young woman and those like her, because they are fundamentally what is best about this community. People like Christina are the ones who make us proud to be from here, who show the world who we are and what we do, who share their vision and passion and drive, and who let the world know that we in Fort McMurray are so much more than oil sands and all the misconceptions about how we live and who we are.

You have a chance to meet Christina too, people. She is holding a very special meet and greet event on Saturday November 24th at 11 am at the MDRA race track on Highway 63. There will be a bonfire, hot chocolate and hot dogs, and there will be real dogs, too, as Christina brings her team along to be greeted. And then she and her team will head down Highway 63 to travel to a very special place in Christina's heart. You see another thing about Christina is that she is cousin to Justin Slade, a young man who lost his life on Highway 63 a few years ago, a loss that is still very fresh and very painful for this young woman. She will take her dogs on a little pilgrimage in memory of Justin, and she will travel Highway 63 in the memory of those who lost their lives just like her beloved cousin.

Now, when you come to the meet and greet (and I am going to assume you are because you'd be crazy to miss it) I am going to suggest you bring along a little cash, because this is also a fundraiser. I've done some calculations on what it costs to feed and house a couple of dozen dogs, and the number is staggering. Then factor in what it will cost for Christina to get to the Yukon, to transport her dogs and her sled, and all the other costs associated with the adventure, and you will quickly realize that what she needs is cash. This is money well spent, people, because it is money to be part of an adventure. It is to be part of a dream, to see a young woman go out and represent the youth of this community in a positive and inspiring way.

On Saturday November 24th you will find the Intrepid Junior Blogger and I meeting and greeting with Christina and her dogs. You will find us sending her off down Highway 63 as she takes a journey in memory of her cousin and all those others we have lost on that little ribbon of road. You will find us petting dogs and laughing with Christina and bursting with pride at the tenacity and courage of a young woman who is not only ready but excited about the prospect of a 1000-mile race through frigid temperatures and uncertain territory in February 2013. You'll find us cheering on someone with vision, passion, and drive - just as it should be in this place called Fort McMurray, where those qualities are not only present but abundant in young women like Christina Traverse. We will be there celebrating our community - and Christina.

Animals Are Not Our Whole Lives But They Make Our Lives Whole - Fort McMurray SPCA

One of the things only a few know about me is my connection to animals. I come from a family of animal lovers, and I have always had pets from cats to dogs to ferrets to fish. In my twenties, in fact, I managed veterinary clinics, a job I loved and that was both so rewarding and so challenging. My whole life has been tied to our furry, feathered, and finned friends, and so I have a very natural connection to places like our local SPCA. Often the Intrepid Junior Blogger and I visit the Fort McMurray SPCA just to cuddle the cats and hang out with the dogs, but this past week I went to the SPCA for a different reason. I went because I wanted to learn more about what they do.

I think there is this perception that the SPCA "just" houses stray animals and adopts them out to new owners. And that is part of what they do, but it is truly only a part. They also engage in many more programs, from education about pet ownership to Containers for Critters, an initiative where the public can donate recyclable beverage containers to benefit the shelter. They also operate some pretty unique and amazing programs like "Nine Lives", which matches senior cats with senior citizens in our community (and as someone who has read the studies showing the beneficial effect pets have on health and longevity I recognize the fundamental value of this program), and "Animal Safe Haven", which provides temporary homes to the pets of those individuals who are fleeing abusive or violent domestic situations but fear for the safety of the beloved pet if it is left behind. These programs go far above and beyond the adopting out of stray animals, and are clear evidence of the importance of the SPCA in our community - but the SPCA does even more than that. The SPCA takes in those animals in need - strays and surrenders, ones needing temporary care and ones needing new forever-homes, and it gives them not just food and water and veterinary care. It gives them love.

The SPCA also engages in novel ways to promote adoptions in the community. This month in honour of Halloween they offer "Black Cat and Black Dog Month", and with every black animal adopted the new owner will receive a certificate for a pumpkin and a bag of Halloween candy from Superstore (one of the local businesses that so kindly supports the good work of the SPCA). They also run various fundraisers throughout the year in their effort to maintain the level of care required by their many residents - and they do, sadly, have many residents.

Often the SPCA is full to the rafters, with a waiting list of those needing to surrender pets due to personal circumstances. The need to adopt animals out to make room for new arrivals is constant, and the pressure to find room for another cat or dog immense. Add to this that the shelter is "no kill" - meaning all animals are safe from euthanasia - and you have a situation that often means there is "no space at the inn". Numbers usually hover about 80 dogs and cats in the shelter at any given time, with some at foster homes as well (and foster homes willing to take animals for short periods are always needed, too). 30-35 animals are adopted every month, so the turnover is constant, but still there is always a new arrival to take the place of the recently adopted. Kennels and cages do not stay vacant for long, if at all.

When I toured the shelter I took photos and chatted with the staff, and what was most evident was their commitment to not only their jobs but to the animals in their care. You see, I understand that very well. When I managed veterinary clinics I probably smiled more, laughed more, and cried more than at any other point in my life because it was never just a job. It was a job with a salary, yes, but it was also a love and passion for these creatures that share our lives. I would cry when a special favourite was injured or ill, and I cried with many owners when they suffered the loss of a beloved pet. I would smile and laugh to see owners with new puppies or kittens, and I would watch as they grew and the bond between them and their owner grew, too.

There is a saying that states "dogs are not our whole lives, but they make our lives whole", and I believe this firmly, but think it goes for all pets and not just dogs. My father was a farmer who grew up on the prairies, and while not all farmers are animal lovers he was. My father was the man who was followed by every pet we owned because they loved him so, and he was the man that carried dog treats on his daily walk to give to every dog he encountered along the way. My father understood the value and importance of animals in our lives, and he spent many years eating meals with a cat perched right beside him under his right elbow waiting for small morsels of food to be slipped down to it (explaining why all our family cats resembled small rotund footstools with heads). He passed this love and understanding on to me, and I have lived a life surrounded by pets - and I am pleased to say that the Intrepid Junior Blogger has inherited this trait as well.

When I did my SPCA tour they mentioned that they had in their possession a small ferret that someone had brought in saying they had found it. My ears perked up at this since, you see, the Junior Blogger happens to have two wee ferrets, and I owned three ferrets myself many years ago, back when I was working in vet clinics. I asked if I could see the little ferret the SPCA had, and they agreed - and I fell in love with a small bundle of fur and eyes and teeth and mischief all over again. I went home, told the Junior Blogger, and when the SPCA contacted us to say the ferret was up for adoption and asked if we were still interested (as I had indicated we might be) I knew what the answer would be.

So, on Saturday, the Intrepid Junior Blogger, her father, and I made a little visit to the SPCA where we picked up a small ferret who joins our resident ferret gang. We brought her home, and within minutes she was sharing the cage with the two other ferrets who welcomed her into the fold with grooming and clucking (the noise happy ferrets make) and playing. And the Intrepid Junior Blogger? Well, I have found her cuddling all three ferrets several times since Saturday, arms full of ferrets and with a look of bliss on her face. The SPCA might think we did something special for them by adopting - but in reality it is they who did something very special for us.

And so it is when you adopt a pet. You might think you are doing something good for the animal, and you are - but really it is you who will benefit. It is you who will find your life enriched. It is you who will experience the unconditional love of an animal. It is you who will reap the rewards of a bond that goes back to the very beginning of time when we first began to share our caves with animals who ceased to be wildlife and instead became part of our life. They are not our whole lives - but they do make our lives whole in every way.

I encourage you to visit the SPCA and check it out. Perhaps you might want to consider adopting, or fostering. Maybe you want to think about donating some cash or some much needed items to them (lists of these items can be found on their website). Or maybe you just need an infusion of "wholeness" into your life, the kind that can be found by cuddling a purring cat or walking a happy dog. The SPCA stands at the ready to help not only the animals in their care but to help all of us to connect with those animals, and to develop the kind of bond that has been shown to improve our lives in dramatic ways. In this world where we can often feel disconnected and less than whole the SPCA provides us with the ability to engage in one of the most enduring, basic, and fundamental bonds that exists - that between a person and an animal. I know this bond well - and it has been one that has given my life true meaning.

My genuine gratitude to the

SPCA staff 

for the recent tour, 

for all the work they do,

for all the love they show,

and for letting a little ferret

now named "River Song"

join our family :)

 If you are on Twitter I would suggest

 following @fmspca - hands down the best

 non-profit Twitter account in the region, 

and probably one of the best Twitter 

accounts of any variety.