The Knights Before Christmas - Holy Trinity Festival of Art

I will confess that this year I have been struggling a bit to find my usual holiday spirit. I won't go into the reasons, but suffice to say I have been going through the motions a bit as opposed to truly feeling my normal seasonal joy. I have found moments when I felt it - the Santa Claus parade, for instance, and the Santa Bus tour with Country 93.3. Last night I found it again, and it seems this time it had hidden away in the Suncor Energy Centre for the Performing Arts at Holy Trinity High School. It was tucked in among some apple cider and cookies and students and staff, who produced a wonderful little evening of seasonal music and atmosphere.

I love the theatre at Holy Trinity. I have written before that it must be one of the most flexible spaces in the city, able to become a Zumba studio or setting for a dramatic performance. Last night it became a little cabaret, with scattered tables and some theatre style seating, lending the whole evening an intimate, and festive, flair. It had been lovingly decorated, too, with street lamps and white lights and white mesh netting and a fibre-optic tree, softly changing colours in the background. It was simple and tasteful and sophisticated, and the ideal setting for the evening.

And the evening? It was performances by Holy Trinity students and staff, mostly vocal performances but one dance number, too. The selections were all Christmas music, some of the more traditional and sombre variety, such as Silent Night, but some were more modern, too, with new classics like Wham's "Last Christmas".

I had four favourite moments last night which I would like to share with you. The first was a performance of "Santa Baby", a very tongue-in-cheek take on the wish list for Santa. This is one of the few instances where I know the student's name, as I found her on Twitter this morning. So, to April Bolen, who delivered this song with the attitude and spunk it requires, I dedicate this video (and I thank her for a lovely version of the song):

My next favourite was a rendition of "I Want A Hippopotamus for Christmas", which was delivered by a young man who wore a Santa hat and possessed tremendous stage presence. To him I dedicate this video, and thank him for a version of the song that had me giggling for the entire drive home:

Next favourite moment? A group version of this song, made famous by Wham. Each of the female vocalists did a wonderful job with their specific solo lines, but it was their harmony that truly shone. To them I dedicate this video, and thank them for displaying their beautiful voices in a rather non-traditional Christmas tune:

And finally, my most favourite moment of all. There is one Christmas song that has always been my personal weakness, one song that I think is so tremendously beautiful - and one almost impossible to sing well. It is a truly challenging piece for any vocalist, and when they closed the show last night with this song I was beyond delighted to listen to a young woman capture every note with perfection. It was the perfect end to a lovely evening, and just the right tone in so very many ways. To her I dedicate this video, and extend my thanks for managing to perform so well what many try, but fail.

To all the students and staff at Holy Trinity I say this: Thank you. Thank you for helping me to find a little piece of my Christmas spirit, from my giggles during the hippopotamus song to my grins during "Santa Baby" to the moments that gave me chills during "O Holy Night". There is great talent in your school, both in the students and the staff who teach them, and it was an honour to witness it and to celebrate it with you.

To the rest of this community - keep an eye on the students from Holy Trinity. These students, and the ones like them at all our other schools, are the future of the performing arts in this community. Even if you don't have children in our school systems I strongly suggest checking out some of the performing events these schools hold, because you are very likely seeing people who you will one day see on the stage at Keyano, and, for some, perhaps on far larger stages around the world. Last night I sat in a lovely little theatre in a wonderful local high school, and what I saw and heard shone so brightly that it rivals the Christmas star. These young students, each and every one of them, are stars in my mind, and they deserve that recognition. They are our future, and I think we are very, very fortunate because in them I see a bright future indeed.

My sincere thanks to

Holy Trinity High School

for the invitation to attend

The Knights Before Christmas,

and to all the students and staff

who made it a wonderful evening.

Confederation Chaos in Fort McMurray

In case you are new to town the chaos I refer to in the title isn't any sort of debacle surrounding the confederation of our country. Frankly that went relatively smoothly from what I understand, no messy wars or massive discord for us polite Canadians. No, the chaos I refer to is what is happening on the Confederation overpass/interchange at the bottom of Confederation Drive, and I wouldn't exactly say that what is happening there right now is "polite". In fact it's becoming the exact opposite of polite, and headed into downright ugly.

To bring you up to speed the provincial government opened up the new Confederation overpass earlier this fall. Things seemed to be going pretty well at first, but it didn't take long for things to fall apart, and in a rather spectacular fashion. Now, I will admit that I don't go out to site on a daily basis, but I do use that artery to get downtown, and have been baffled to find a trip that once took 20 minutes was now taking closer to an hour. Being self-employed I have the luxury of planning around such chaos, and rescheduling my trips to quieter times, but most people in this community don't have that option, and so they sit in traffic. And sit. And sit.

If you are on Twitter you can pretty much watch as the pot simmers, and then boils over on an almost daily basis. The Tweets start out disgruntled, and rapidly become angry. They reach a fever pitch, with people warning that others will soon "go postal" (I always suspect they mean they might well go postal but don't want to admit it), and with rants about firing everyone from the member of parliament to the MLAs to the mayor to the dog catcher (incidentally I hope everyone realizes we can't really "fire" elected officials - democracy doesn't really work that way, and unless you are planning some sort of radical overthrow of the government we have to work with what we have).

Folks, we are living in a difficult time right now in Fort McMurray. We are going through a tremendous number of changes, including our roadways. And while it would be nice to believe that things will go right the first time, and that it will be perfect, I think we need to accept that it won't. Things will be tried, and they may fail, or they may work. If they fail they may need to be tweaked. If the tweaking doesn't work they may need an overhaul. In some instances it will be a case of trial and error - and there will be some pain along the way.

I know it's hard to be patient. I know that when you are sitting in traffic, late, that your patience disappears. I know that when someone zooms in to merge after you've been sitting in traffic for 45 minutes (and expects that you will let them in) that your blood pressure goes up and you fantasize about strapping them to the hood of your car with a sign on them that says "I caught this jerk trying to cut into line on Confed" (okay, maybe that's just my fantasy). I also know something else - losing our minds about all this will not change a damn thing. It will just make us a cranky, irritable, unhappy bunch.

I don't know that there is a solution until the roadways are completed and all the changes designed to make traffic flow better are finished. I suspect that until that point we are going to continue to see mayhem in traffic. There may be small adjustments that will help things improve, but I think we may need to acknowledge that we are still dealing with inadequate infrastructure for a community this size, and that we will need to exercise more patience as our current governments work to address a legacy they have inherited from others. I'm not going to suggest we all sit in our cars and sing "Kumbaya", but I think we all might need to just calm down slightly before we suffer a collective stroke. We can rant and rave about mass political firings that will never happen and we can issue dire warnings about others (read as "us") going postal and we can go crazy but in the end will that make traffic flow any better? Nope. In the end all it does is make us crazy, so what's the point?

Sometimes we can't control what happens to us - we can only control how we react to it. While we can express our displeasure with traffic issues by contacting our elected officials and Transportation there isn't much point in going ballistic because it's just not going to make any real difference except in how it makes us feel. It makes us feel powerless, and angry, and unhappy. So choose a different path. Choose to tell the officials about the issues, and if you have suggestions for improvements add those, too. And then strap yourself into your car, and relax. If you have to sit back and think about England (the advice once given to new brides who were nervous about their wedding night). Going crazy only really affects one person - you. So in the end if the only one going crazy makes crazy is you, why bother?

Oh, and if you have to? Sing Kumbaya if you must. And if you happen to cut in front of some redhead going south on Confederation in heavy traffic and notice her giving you a steely glare just be aware that you've likely narrowly escaped being hogtied to the hood of her car. You've been warned.

On Medal Winners, Friends, and Community Heroes - Arianna Johnson and Nathaniel Crossley

One of the greatest pleasures I have had during the course of this blog has been the opportunity to meet people who inspire me. They can be involved in so many different things, from sport to politics, but the thing they have in common is their passion for what they do. The ones I have always found the most inspiring, though, are those who give freely of themselves for the betterment of others. Others might call them philanthropists, or volunteers. In the case of the two people I am writing about I happen to also call them friends.

Arianna Johnson is the Executive Director of the Wood Buffalo Food Bank, but she is also so much more. She serves on boards for various organizations, and when she moved to this city she threw herself into it, making a career and a life and many, many friends. When I began writing about non-profit organizations she was one of the first people I met, and I am eternally grateful as her passion and drive for what she does helped me find my own, and she taught me so much about non-profits. Nathaniel Crossley is an eleven year-old boy who is a student - but again he too is so much more, raising over $9000 to build wells in Africa, being an i2P ambassador, and now off on a new trading adventure destined to end in a trip to Africa to see his wells, and climb Mount Kilimanjaro. It seems like Arianna and Nathaniel have passion for philanthropy in common, but they now have something else in common, too. They are now going to both be recipients of the Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee Medal.

In case you don't know this medal is in honour of the Queen's Diamond Jubilee, 60 years on the throne. It is an honour to receive it, and not a small honour. It is a HUGE honour as only 60,000 people across our nation will receive this medal - ever. It is meant to celebrate those who have given to their community, and who have made significant contributions and achievements in this country. I cannot think of two better individuals in our region to receive this honour than Nathaniel and Arianna.

You see, Arianna talks a lot about what mentors have meant to her, and about how they changed her life. And so too she mentors others, including people like me, who come to her with questions and thoughts about non-profit organizations. She has helped me to navigate through a landscape I didn't understand, and she did so patiently. And she is tireless advocate for the food bank and it's clients, seeking every opportunity to make it stronger and better. And Nathaniel? Well, he is the future. In that young, bespectacled young man I see a future leader, much like another young man, Craig Kielburger (Craig founded Free the Children at the age of 12, and it is now the largest children-helping-children organization on the planet). The amazing thing is that Nathaniel is already leading, having accomplished more in his short time on this planet than many adults three times his age. In Arianna and Nathaniel I see two leaders - different genders, different ages, different life experiences, and different plans, but the same end goal: to effect change in this world, to leave it a better place than they found it, and to improve the lives of others.

There is one other thing these two have in common. They are both quite modest about what they do, brushing it off as "no big deal", and not really expecting any glory. But isn't that what true heroes do? They do what they do because it is the right thing, and not for any expectation of recognition or reward. They do it for what it does for their heart, and for the hearts of others, not for their wallet or their resumé. They do it because it is their passion.

I could say I am "proud" of my friends, but that is inadequate. Last night when I heard my friends had received letters notifying them of their new status as recipients of the Diamond Jubilee Medal my heart almost burst with pride. I contacted Arianna right away, and Nathaniel's parents, too (as his parents, dear friends of mine, are the inspiration and support he needs to do what he does). I congratulated them, and told them how proud I am. I am proud they are members of my community. I am proud they are making a difference in the world. And while they may be honoured to receive this medal I am deeply, deeply honoured to be considered their friend, because these are the kinds of friends that bring out the best in us. These are the kind of friends, and people, who lead by example, and encourage us all to be the best we can be, and to pursue our own passions. These are the kind of leaders this community, and this entire world, desperately needs. And we have them right here, in Fort McMurray.

And so to Nathaniel Crossley and Arianna Johnson I say congratulations on receiving the Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee Medal - and thank you. Thank you for inspiring this community. Thank you for leading the way. Thank you for doing what you do, every day, medal or no medal. Thank you for changing the world. This medal is only a small bit of the recognition you both richly deserve. I stand here today and applaud you, not for winning a medal, but rather for being who you are, and bringing your passion, vision, and drive to Fort McMurray to share with the rest of us. That is truly the greatest honour this community could ever receive. So while Arianna and Nathaniel may be honoured to receive a medal I think it is this community that has the true honour - because Arianna and Nathaniel belong to us, and that is a tremendous honour indeed.

Of Intrepid Junior Bloggers and Robots - FMPSD First Lego League Showcase

There are many things I do specifically for this blog, and then there are things that cross over from my personal life and into this blog. Often these things involve the Intrepid Junior Blogger and activities she is involved in, and so it happened this past weekend when I spent a day at École McTavish for the Fort McMurray Public School District First Lego League Robotics Showcase.

For the past several weeks the IJB has been putting in a lot of extra time at school. She had a role as one of the orphans in the school's recent production of Annie, and she has been a part of the school robotics team. Between those two activities she has been spending hours of her off-school time at the school, in rehearsals for the musical and meetings for robotics. This past weekend both activities culminated in a sense, with the final performance of Annie on Friday night, and then on Saturday for the robotics competition.

The robotics league is very active in the FMPSD. Several of the elementary schools fielded teams for the showcase yesterday, and McTavish actually had three teams of students participating. The teams all build the robots using the Lego Mindstorm robotics kits, and then the robots are put to the test by performing tasks in a time-monitored contest. The robots, which are programmable, put the students to the test, too, requiring them to use both design skills and logic to create robots that are able to accomplish the tasks required of them.

One of the most interesting aspects is the team judging, where the students must present the robots to the judges and explain the operation of the robot, as well as demonstrate some of the programs. They do this on their own, without the presence of coaches or parents, meaning they must exhibit an understanding of the robot and programming.

Now, to be honest the IJB has a bit of an advantage in all this. Several years ago for Christmas her father, an engineer, bought her the Lego Mindstorm kit, and she built robots, and programmed them. And she built some very interesting robots, including the one that I discovered when I entered her room one day when she was at school. I walked into her room and realized that something was shooting small plastic balls at my ankles. Her robot, armed with a motion sensor, had detected me entering her room and launched an attack (being me I of course re-armed it and then sent the dog in, as I was not willing to be the only one surprised by a sudden avalanche of plastic balls).

The IJB and her team had been hard at work on their robot, but she was concerned about some disturbing traits it was exhibiting, including a tendency to spin in circles on occasion. Despite these concerns she and her team were at McTavish bright and early to compete against the other teams.

It's very interesting to watch the competition, and to see the excitement of the kids involved. It is clear that these kids share a passion for design and engineering, and for innovation. Most of the robots performed well, and the teams expressed enthusiasm with cheering and chanting. Over the course of the day each team competed three times, and met with the team judges to explain the intricacies of their robot. And, at the end of the day, while the judges compiled the results, MC and Thickwood principal Kevin Bergen entertained the crowd with an impromptu dance party, which delighted the kids (and included a gangnam-style dance off which may have involved the participation of a certain parent/blogger who would do anything for her kid).

When the results were announced there were prizes for strategy and design, and many other aspects of robotics. Each team got certificates and a chance for a team photograph, and then the winners of the day were announced. I wish I could have captured the face of the IJB when the name "École McTavish Xcentric" was read for the first place winner. You see, that was her team, and they had achieved top place in a rather fierce little competition. To say she was delighted is a complete understatement.

What's up next for the IJB, her team, and some of the other robotics competitors? A provincial competition in January in Edmonton, where they will have the chance to see their robot compete against those from schools all across the province. Last year McTavish did very well at this competition, and this year promises to be another good year for the students. Regardless of the outcome of the provincial competition, though, I think the students will all be winners for what this activity teaches them.

And what does it teach them? Robotics, of course, both design and programming. It builds problem solving skills, and it encourages innovation. And perhaps most importantly it teaches the fundamentals of team work, with the students having to work together to achieve results, and needing to use skills in communication and cooperation to accomplish a task. 

I spent all day yesterday at McTavish, hanging out with the IJB and her friends, chatting with parents and judges, and just generally enjoying the dual role of blogger and parent. It was absolutely wonderful to see the IJB's team do so well, but I would have been proud regardless, because I know the level of effort and work the students put in, and so all involved should be proud no matter how they did. And I am proud too, of a school and school district that encourages students to explore so many different facets of life, from performances of the musical Annie to Lego robotics. I feel fortunate that the IJB has been a student in the FMPSD since Kindergarten, and that she has been able to participate in so many incredible activities as a result.

Today the IJB is exhausted after so many weeks of rehearsals and robotics sessions, and I admit I am rather tired, too. I think, though, that she is very satisfied with the results of her hard work, as am I. She was pretty proud to hold that first place trophy, but I think she was even more proud to hold their robot. And, at the end of the day, I was just pretty damn proud to hold her, too.

Reflections on Faith, Tragedy, and Parenthood

You couldn't miss the news yesterday. It was everywhere, and only someone very determined to block it out could have escaped it. A horrific shooting, in a school. Adults dead, but children, too. The pictures were sad beyond belief, little children being led from a school and a trauma that they will likely never forget- and one that will likely haunt their dreams. And families, too many families, left without their own children, families that will likely never recover from this loss. Along with the rest of this continent I watched the story unfold with grief and horror. And then, last night, I went to the Intrepid Junior Blogger's school and sat in the atrium to watch the final performance of the musical "Annie".

I didn't miss the irony of this. I imagine there were many in school auditoriums last night for Christmas concerts or performances by their children, too. As I sat there I was very cognizant of how fortunate I am because I still have my daughter, while several families in a small community far away have been left without theirs. I sat there last night before the musical began and I reflected on all this, and on how the world has changed.

When I was growing up and in school we did not fear random attacks. We didn't practice lockdowns, or have drills that taught us what to do should someone with a gun enter our school. I knew that the generation before me had suffered from a different fear, the fear of an atomic war, and they had been taught to "duck and cover", hiding under desks should someone decide to attack with nuclear weaponry. My generation was spared this fear, though, and I went through school never imagining what would happen should someone walk in the door with a gun, or if a bomb was detonated.

I knew things were different when the IJB started school. One day she came home and began describing how the teacher had locked the classroom door, turned off all the lights, and asked them to be very, very quiet. I realized that the teachers were preparing my daughter for a future that could include a random and unprovoked assault on her life. That day, as she told it to me as if it were some game, I knew her school existence was radically different from mine.

There have been incidents of this nature right here in our community, although thankfully none were of any real substance. Once my daughter's school was locked down at the end of a day when an injured man went into a neighbouring school and said he had been shot. The schools quickly locked down all the children, and in the end it turned out the man had been injured in a private altercation, and there was no gunman on the loose. I remember when I was finally able to pick up my daughter, and I remember the wary look on her face as we crossed the playground to the car. The world had tilted slightly on that day for her, and I could see it in her face.

Once our neighbhourhood was locked down, but this time there was a real gunman on the loose. He had been involved in a shooting in the area and had fled into the trees in my area. I only knew of the lockdown when I discovered a helicopter hovering over my house, searching my back yard. I turned on the radio and learned that my entire area had been locked down, no traffic allowed to enter or leave. I immediately turned on the security system and explained to my daughter what was happening, and once again I saw that look. Wary. Watching. Waiting. In the end the lockdown was lifted and all was normal again, but the world had tilted ever so slightly again.

Last night I sat in the atrium of my daughter's school and I thought about those incidents. I thought about all those innocent little lives lost yesterday, and I thought about how the young man holding the gun had once been one of those innocent little ones. I thought about our society, and wondered if we had somehow failed this young man. I thought about parents in grief too agonizing to imagine, and in such tremendous pain. I thought about my daughter, and about how her life has already been impacted by these incidents, how lockdowns are part of her world, and how her world view has been changed by the necessity of knowing what to do should a violent person enter her school. I thought about all these things, and then the curtain rose on the final night a little junior high school musical, and I watched my precious daughter perform the songs she has worked so hard to learn.

Last night after the musical I handed her the flowers we had purchased to celebrate closing night, and I hugged her close. I told her I am so proud of her, and that I love her. I held her for just a little longer than I normally would have, and there might have been tears of pride, and grief, in my eyes. This precious child is my gift to the world, and she is the best thing I have ever done in my entire existence on this planet. Last night I clutched her just a little tighter and a little longer than usual. Then I let her go again, and off she went to celebrate a triumphant closing night with friends, glancing back at me with a smile on occasion. Just as every parent does I let her go out into this uncertain world, trusting that this world will not fail her and will bring her back to me. Some days it is tough to find that faith, especially on a day when it was shattered for so many others. In the end, though, that faith is all we have. In the end, just as my daughter has learned to say while working in this musical, "the show must go on". And so it does, while we try to comprehend a world that has tilted ever so slightly again, and while we try to pick up those shattered shards of our faith and piece them back together again.

Not Just An Ad Campaign: Big Spirit in Fort McMurray

It's a phrase you hear mentioned a lot in Fort McMurray. It is one, in fact, that people have complained to me about, saying it is over-used, become a cliche, and really just a marketing ploy. It is the phrase "big spirit".

Now, let's be honest, and admit that the phrase was likely dreamed up by someone in marketing and communications somewhere, because it is intrinsically linked to our municipal government, with things like the Big Spirit Magazine they publish, and the accompanying website. It is, I suppose, originally an advertising campaign of sorts, a way to promote this region and community in the greater world, and to build community spirit right here. But big spirit is far from being just an ad campaign, because "big spirit" describes this place better than almost any other phrase I've ever heard.

I could talk here about the philanthropy exhibited by the big corporations, like the Syncrude Food Bank Drive, or all the other initiatives that industry engages in to raise money or goods for local non-profit organizations. While those things are terrific I think instead I'd like to talk about the individual, and about that big spirit.

So let's start with the Food Bank Drive. I was stunned to discover that effort requires the participation of 600 volunteers. 600?!? That's a huge number of volunteers, and yet every year they manage to find enough volunteers to man those trucks collecting donations outside grocery stores. That isn't an effort from industry, though - that's 600 individuals giving of their precious time to contribute. 600 is a big number - and a tremendous display of big spirit.

But let's talk about smaller numbers. How about the people who pay for the person behind them in the Tim Horton's line-up? I hear about this fairly frequently, how someone will drive up to the window and discover their order has been paid for by a mysterious stranger ahead of them. Some will call it a "random act of kindness" - I call it big spirit.

How about the individuals who drop in cash every time they see someone collecting for anything? SPCA, Salvation Army, whatever it is, they have a $5 bill that gets dropped in. That's generousity, that's philanthropy, and that is big spirit, too.

But it isn't always about cash or coffee. I'd like to share some personal stories. Two weeks ago I was horribly ill with the stomach virus that has been going around the city. I'll spare you the gory (and ghastly) details but I was as sick as I've been in decades. That weekend it also decided to snow, and suddenly my driveway and sidewalks were virtually impassable due to a thick, heavy blanket of snow. I was just too weak to shovel, and even when I had mostly recovered I couldn't face the thought of trying to clear it. I had to go out briefly one night, and I left feeling disheartened knowing that when I came home I really needed to deal with that snow.

I arrived home, walked around the corner, and found...a freshly snow-blowed driveway, completely cleared of snow. I have no idea who did it, none at all, although I suspect it was one of my neighbours. I almost cried when I realized it had been done for me, and I felt such profound gratitude. I felt this even more when I learned that someone else, who had heard my lament about the snow on Twitter, had come by my house to clean my driveway, but finding it done had gone and done some other random driveways instead. That isn't just a random act of kindness. That is big spirit.

And the funny thing about big spirit is that when you have been the beneficiary of it you are inspired to pay it forward. This past Monday I was downtown and had stopped for a coffee. It was such a cold day, and on days like that my thoughts always turn to my friends at the Centre of Hope. I worry about the patrons being exposed to such harsh temperatures. I thought about what I would want to cheer me up on a cold, bleak day, and being someone with a weakness for baked goods I quickly realized it was donuts. And so I purchased four dozen donuts and dropped them off to the Centre of Hope (and was met with such profound gratitude from the patrons there that once again I was almost moved to tears). It was such a simple act, really, and yet it felt so very, very good to do.

Last night I was headed downtown again, this time listening to Mix 103.7. Morning radio hosts Ashley and Sean had been broadcasting all day from the HUB (and oddly enough from inside a little playhouse set up inside the HUB). They were collecting for the Telus Christmas Critter Care Campaign, raising funds and goods for the Fort McMurray Family Crisis Society, Victims Services, and the HUB. While I was listening Sean issued a challenge. He commented about how many people "talk the talk" of Big Spirit, but that this was time to put the walk into the talk. I immediately pulled over and looked in my purse to see how much cash I had. It wasn't a huge amount, but it was some. I thought about what I would do with it - coffees, a meal out, new shoes, a new dress - and then I drove straight to the HUB, walked in, and handed it all to Sean and Ashley. With a smile I said to them "Big Spirit isn't just an advertising campaign", wished them a Merry Christmas, and then drove away.

You see, I firmly believe that big spirit might have started as a marketing slogan or an advertising campaign, but it has become so much more. It is the one phrase that has truly captured the nature of this place, where people always rise to the occasion and meet the needs of others, whether it is cleaning a driveway or volunteering their time or donating to a cause. Big spirit isn't just what we display or what we do. We are the home of "big" - big trucks, big projects, big plans, big dreams, and big spirits. There are those who may be cynical about the slogan. There are those who may doubt it, and those who think it is nothing more than a marketing tactic. I am not one of those. I am someone who chooses to believe in our big spirit, and who chooses to participate in it whenever I can, whether it is with donuts or cash or volunteering my time. You see, big spirit isn't in industry or government. It resides in each and every one of us in this community, and only we can choose to share it. Big spirit is not just an advertising campaign. Under this big northern sky, surrounded by big boreal forest, big spirit is just who we are.

Commiserating Over Cookies - The Food Bank Hamper Challenge on YMMPodcast

Just over a week ago I sat down at a dining room table with some of my favourite people in this community. We weren't sharing a meal, however, but the dining room table setting was very appropriate given what we had met to chat about. You see, we gathered as a group to discuss our experience on the Wood Buffalo Food Bank Food Hamper Challenge - and it was all about food, and the impact of food on our community.

Gathered in the Dining Room Table Studio, as Toddske of YMMPodcast calls it, was Stacey, Jerry, Jen, Toddske, myself, and Arianna Johnson, the executive director of the food bank. Arianna was the one who came up with this challenge idea, and she was the one who had approached us asking for our participation. We were four of the only six people who accepted the challenge (Ashley and Marshall, the other two participants, couldn't make this particular recording session of the podcast). We had all accepted the challenge, and we shared something else in common, too. We had all failed. We had all dropped out and most of us had cheated at some point along the way, too. We had taken the challenge but we had lost, and this podcast is the story of that failure.

There are some amazing moments in the podcast. Hearing about how the lack of good nutrition led to marital discord shows how food, or lack of it, can fundamentally alter relationships. Hearing Stacey's story of why she hates Mr. Noodle dishes, or Toddske's tale of the toilet paper, makes one understand just a little bit more about our complicated relationship with food and household staples. And then there is me (my apologies for my braying laugh and loud voice - I have been told I sound like a donkey on crack on occasion and when I listened to this podcast I realized it's likely true). I talked about having found it so hard to turn down coffee when I met with the mayor, and refusing to dive into the tin of home-baked cookies at a parent council meeting (a tin of cookies I coveted to my core since supper that night had been a much less appealing tin of soup and by the time 7 pm rolled around I was starving. I tell the story of how my own Intrepid Junior Blogger encouraged me to cheat, and about how in the end it was her concern for my health, physical and mental, that helped me make the decision to end the challenge.

The six of us talked for a long time, and we did so, rather ironically, while passing around a tin of cookies baked by Toddske's son Kingston and his grandmother. We sipped our lattes and our beers and our hot chocolate while eating cookies and discussing how the food bank hamper challenge had radically altered our understanding of our personal relationship, and society's relationship, with food. It's a pretty compelling podcast, just as it was a pretty compelling experience. I think every single one of us learned something about food and about what it means to our lives, and I think Toddske and I signed up for something we may well regret. I think we learned a lot about each other that night at the dining room table, and we learned so much about the food bank, the work they do, and their importance. We shared some pretty intimate stories, and one in particular brought me to tears. We sat around a dining room table and we ate cookies and we talked about food, just as people have done since the beginning of time, because in the end we are ALL about food. We talked about something that is as basic to existence as air. We talked about food, and about our relationship with it, and about how it impacts everything in your world, even if you don't realize it. And that's why I would suggest you take the time to listen to the podcast, too. This experience was an eye opener for all of us, but you don't have to take the food hamper challenge to understand it. You can listen to this podcast, and live it vicariously. And trust me - that is a far better way to learn than doing it by finding yourself staring at a can of corned beef and realizing that you are in serious, serious trouble. That's how I learned, but then again, I always do tend to learn things the hard way.

Listen to the Food Bank Hamper Challenge Wrap-Up on YMMPodcast

My thanks to

Arianna Johnson

of the

Wood Buffalo Food Bank

for crafting this challenge

and asking us to participate,

and to my fellow participants -

we have shared the road to hell together,

and we know it is paved with soup can labels.