Posted on October 10, 2013 under Storytelling with no comments yet

                                                 ( Note: A serious story on a serious topic )

The sun was shining brightly and I was feeling ambitious, so I decided to walk to Georgetown, P.E.I.  Lest you think that I have supernatural powers, I did not walk across the waters of the Northumberland Strait.   No, I walked seven kilometers from the Brudenell River Resort to Georgetown, right around the time the first golfers of the day were teeing off.

I was attending the Georgetown Conference and wanted some quiet time to ponder the dizzying array of ideas coming out of this unique gathering of doers and dreamers from all over Atlantic Canada.

In case you haven’t noticed, the economy in this region of the country needs rejuvenation.  Where better to look than among the clever and creative citizens of Atlantic Canada?  At Georgetown, a diverse group of people assembled to speak, to listen and to share ideas.

I was offered a ride by many drivers along the way and I fear that some people thought I had taken a wrong turn.  Or worse, that the conference had gotten the better of me and I was meandering home.  Interestingly, instead of the usual road kill of raccoons or porcupines, the shoulder of the road was littered with lobster shells.   I didn’t think that they could make it that far from the ocean.

Back at Georgetown there was a lot of firepower in the room and everyone, it seemed, had checked their egos at the front door as they entered the King’s Playhouse.  It was obvious that people had not come for personal gain but for the betterment of the communities that they were representing.

There is no question that rural Canada is in crisis, and something needs to happen soon before many small communities roll up their sidewalks and close shop.

The economic landscape has changed here.  There is little mining to speak of, and steel making is gone forever.  The fishing, forestry, pulp and paper and farming industries are all grappling with significant concerns.  Our American visitors are fewer in number as we, and they, come to terms with the new economy.

What are we to do?

As the Mayor of Yarmouth said so succinctly, “Quit whining and get your work boots on.”

The Georgetown Conference was a call to action.  We can no longer expect governments to solve everything, or anything.   These days, most administrations have crushing, long-term debt and are operating with a deficit.  More importantly, how well do they understand the unique challenges faced by our stalwart communities?

If not the government, then who?

Us.  You and me.  And our children.  It must start with a significant shift in attitude.  We must dispense immediately with our territorialism and parochialism.  We can’t stop and take a breather.  We can’t be complacent.  We can’t pass the buck on this one.  We must act.  Now.

We must listen to our young people.  It is not enough to try and convince them to stay.  They won’t.  They need to get out and see the world.   It’s a necessary component of their education.  But we need to create a climate of understanding and respect so that they will come back when their wandering days end.

We must listen to our senior citizens because, by and large, they have time, the most precious of commodities.  And many of them have resources, both intellectual and material.  Wisdom can only be attained through time and experience.  Let’s mine this resource fully.

We must educate people.  For small communities to survive, people must seek out locally-derived products and services.  Many of us could make do with fewer possessions.  Less is more.  Let’s buy them here and pay fairly for the time and resources that went into making them.  People can’t keep up the practice of always shopping online or driving two hours to giant, heartless big box stores.  Who will provide good jobs here at home?  Who will support our arts and cultural activities?  Who will champion the sports teams and charities that so need and deserve our backing if we don’t do business in our towns and villages?

We must educate every level of government to allocate our tax dollars to provide affordable food and housing.   The vicious cycle of poverty needs to be arrested and the first thing we need to do is make available secure accommodation and food security.  Everyone needs and deserves a roof overhead and food in their bellies.  As a community we are only as strong as the weakest among us.

We must not adopt the mantra of learning from other communities’ mistakes.  We must learn from their successes.  And when local businesses triumph in the face of adversity let us not sit in the coffee shops and criticize and chastise these achievements.  We need businesses to be successful.  Replace jealousy with admiration.  Be positive – be proud.

And above everything else, do something in your community.  Do not leave it in the hands of others.    The Georgetown Conference has left us with a clear and compelling call to action.  We can all be part of the revitalization of Atlantic Canada.   What are you going to do about it?

Posted on October 8, 2013 under Storytelling with no comments yet

The story I posted this morning had a few key paragraphs missing at the end. Please revisit my website to see the full story. Thanks.

Posted on October 8, 2013 under Storytelling with no comments yet

The Air Canada flight reached cruising speed when the passenger pulled out a novel that he had purchased prior to the flight.  He was in high spirits, having just completed a successful road race the previous weekend.  He may have been in the best shape of his life as was evidenced by his lean physique.

He carefully removed the silk bookmark, a souvenir from the race.  The bright red letters said it all: 1^St place; The Great Sooke Footrace.  He left the bookmark in a conspicuous place, on the arm of his seat, an aisle seat at that.  As people wandered back and forth to the washroom, their eyes were drawn to the ribbon which had success written all over it.  A young brunette in the opposite aisle seat looked at him several times during the flight, obviously impressed with his running prowess.

I used to live in Victoria and, during that time, visited the small, idyllic community of Sooke on several occasions.

Two things stand out.

Back then the Sooke Harbor House was a well-known restaurant … and quite pricey.  It’s an old converted heritage farmhouse situated at sea level on a beautiful shoreline.   The vista was spectacular and was only surpassed by the gourmet food prepared and served by the chef and his wife.  I had taken a young woman there for dinner, a meal that I could ill afford, but when you are trying to impress, cost is never a factor.  We managed to get through drinks and appetizers before I realized the inappropriateness of my choice of restaurants.  When the main course arrived, my date asked for ketchup to splatter over her magnificent fish dinner.  Our next, and last date, was at Burger King.

Sooke is also famous for a series of waterfalls cascading down a mountain stream.  It resembles a staircase with a pool forming at the bottom of each waterfall.  Hence the name “The Sooke Potholes”. My friends and I decided to check it out one weekend.  The lower pools are not deep and are frequented by parents and small children.  As you go higher up the mountain, the pools get deeper, the water gets colder and the bathing attire changes drastically.  The very last pool is for nudists only.  While I protested vehemently when we reached the top, the other members of my party insisted that this pool was our final stop.  Being a team player, I agreed to stay.

The Great Sooke Footrace is a gem.  It is primarily a trail run and is broadly supported by the local community.  Most races provide race kits which contain the standard fare: notices of upcoming races, coupons for a variety of things, gels and power bars.  The swag at Sooke is quite different.  It is not uncommon to get a can of creamed corn or possibly a bar of Irish spring soap.  Checking the” best before” dates on these products is advised.

The race began on a cloudless summer morning as my brother Tom towed the line with about 400 other runners.  It was hard to ignore the pre- race buzz.

The race could not have gone much better as he manhandled the course.  At around the three-quarter mark he came upon a man who was running the race, incredibly, with a wooden leg.  Just as he began to overtake him the man stumbled momentarily, allowing Tom to pass him.  My brother peered back and he seemed no worse for wear.

The awards ceremony was held at the conclusion of the event.  Tom was outwardly pleased but was inwardly shocked as he approached the stage to receive his first-place medal.  He had never been a front runner in his age division prior to this stunning turn of events.  When the man with the wooden leg accepted the second place medal and there was none awarded for third place, it dawned on him that he and the man with the wooden leg were the only participants in their division.

The passengers on the plane would never know the difference.