Complaining about Calgary is like competing in the Special Olympics…

…and not only because you’re still retarded in the end. It’s because it’s too damn easy these days. I was reading a thread at calgarypuck.com (I don’t have an account there; I am just drawn to the discussion, and when there’s no hockey, they discuss…other things) on whether “Calgary has lost it’s [SIC] appeal,” and the range of whining is completely unfocussed and completely out of hand. The city is “too big,” but it’s “not as interesting as [Montreal, Toronto, Hong Kong, etc.]” and thus “too small.” It “lacks culture” but has lost its “small-town atmosphere.” People have become “urban and unfriendly,” but at the same time there are too many “hicks from [Saskatchewan, New Brunswick, Thunder Bay, etc.].”

Look, everybody, just shut the hell up and take some deep breaths. Calgary can’t be all things to all people. No city can. But the random, contradictory, and (frankly) ignorant commentary about the bad new version of this city is starting to piss me off more than the problems of a growing, evolving city ever have. You want culture? You have to accept growth. You want diversity? You have to accept growth. You want the amenities of a major city? Well, guess what folks: THIS is what being a major city, a major city in the midst of an almost preposterously booming economy, is like.

You liked the old days? When Calgary was “friendly”? Are you talking about the old days as summarised at Pride Calgary? They went like this, in 1991:

Calgary has celebrated Gay Pride since 1990. In 1991 a small group of activists obtained a proclamation from Mayor Al Duerr, who understood the issues in terms of minority struggle. Unfortunately, the virulent backlash levied against him and his family put an end to that. That first rally - minus a parade, which was believed to be too radical even for 1990s Calgary - attracted 192 people. Some participants wore paper bags over their heads.

Needless to say, Pride 2007 was nothing like this. That’s not to say that the past was hate-infused or that we live in pure harmony now. The fact that Calgary is now the third most ethnically diverse major city in Canada, a city that took in more international immigrants, per capita, in 2006 than did nearly any other city in North America, also means that the mere opportunities for conflict are greater now than in, say, 1986. But my point is that people waxing nostalgic for how great things were in the past are probably doing a really bad job of remembering it. Even Calgary’s much-ballyhooed recent crime wave was not as severe as crime in, say, the 1980s. We are better off now in many ways, and I prefer the present.

Finally, on “culture.” This one riles me the most. Most people who criticise the cultural offerings here have no idea what is happening in this city. Here’s a typical conversation I’ve had too many times with both newcomers and suburbanites who’ve been here for decades:

Them: One thing I can’t stand about this city is the lack of culture!
Me: What do you mean?
Them: There’s no CULTURE here!
Me: I heard you the first time. I’m asking what you mean by “culture.”
Them: You know, plays, art, ballet, film…
Me: Oh, CULTURE. Well, since you’ve been so starved for that, you must have been so happy about this year’s High Performance Rodeo! Didn’t you love Laurie Anderson? And Compagnie Marie Chouinard? And the Kronos Quartet?
Them: What are you referring to? The high performance what?
Me: High Performance Rodeo- you know, you’re such a culture expert, you must know all about the oldest juried performance art festival in the world! So tell me, what was your favourite act this year?
Them: I’ve never even heard about this…
Me: Okay, you JUST TOLD ME that Calgary had NO CULTURE, but you don’t even make an EFFORT to find out what we DO have, especially when we have a world-class arts event like this?
Them: Look, one event doesn’t mean the city has culture.
Me: Okay, have you been to Wordfest?
Them: huh?
Me: Folk Fest?
Them: er…
Me: Fairytales Queer Film Festival?
Them: duh…
Me: Word on the Street?
Them: ummmmmm…
Me: The Honens International Piano Competition?
Them: durrrrr…
Me: The New Calgary Jazz Festival?
Them: grrrak…
Me: The Calgary International Film Festival?
Them: rrrrllllleeeemmmmbb…
Me: Canadian PlayRites Festival?
Them: I have to get to Olive Garden for dinner. Excuse me.

The next time you deride your city- whatever city that might be- for “lacking culture,” think about what you participate in and what you support. If your efforts have gone unnoticed or unrewarded, then complain away. But when you DON’T EVEN KNOW what’s happening in your own neighbourhood, just keep your stupid, ignorant mouth closed, stuffed with timbits.

Gah. People get to me sometimes.

The battle against NIMBY forces in Bankview

I’m an official neighbourhood activist now. There’s an application to tear down the houses across the street from ours and to change zoning to accommodate higher density (probably in the form of four-storey condos), and as soon as I saw the application posted, I knew that somebody would be knocking at my door. Our next-door neighbour is opposed, or concerned, on design principles (he wants houses that have entrances on the street, townhouse-style) but he heard me out when I said that I wanted HIGHER densities. Yes, HIGHER. No great dispute there; his concern is aesthetic, mine is “social,” and I can see a middle ground here. But then I got a letter from some purported rep for the “community association,” and it really pissed me off. So I called the city planning department and also wrote this letter:

I write to express my SUPPORT for the application named in the subject line to change zoning to allow for higher density residential development at and around 14A Street and 19 Avenue SW.

I am aware of some of the complaints about this application, but as a homeowner who lives directly across the street from the properties, I suggest that my support is important to state. The arguments of the community association are, in my view, misguided. The property is virtually on the “edge” of Bankview and so most of the dreaded new traffic will not occur in the community per se but will sweep out onto 17th Avenue and 14 Street. Parking will be no more of an issue than it is currently on 19th Avenue, since any development will provide off-street parking for residents, just as is now available for residents. 19th Avenue, on the portion to be redeveloped between the Nimmons House parking area and 14A street, is one of the least attractive sections of Bankview, with small, heavily “Eisenhowered” older homes in generally poor condition, and the development would comprise what is currently an extremely ugly pair of empty lots, on 14A and 19th (the latter directly across from my home, and a terrible eyesore that persons opposing this development do not have to witness every day as I do).

I support RM5, because as a sociologist, I understand and appreciate the importance of increasing inner-city densities as a means of curbing urban sprawl. With this property we have a golden opportunity to turn what it currently a mostly derelict corner and surrounding strip into a lively, populated block. We would lose a strip of ugly, absentee-landlorded houses. Because the proposed zoning is RM5, the new construction could contain housing that is more affordable than detached houses, semi-detached houses, or townhouses would offer. We have a new townhouse development at 19 Avenue and 17 Street where units are priced at nearly $900,000!

The community association speaks of maintaining “diversity” in Bankview, but in resisting RM5, it is only assuring that the rich, and only the rich, can purchase here. I don’t want this for my community. I want new, denser, more affordable housing. I want people; I want mixes of income; I want eyes on the street. I want more of the ingredients of a vibrant urban neighbourhood. This zoning change is part of how this might be accomplished.

In the letter I received from the community association’s representative, there was a reference to the notion that people move to Bankview because of its “character,” and the idea that opposing this zoning change would support this “character.” I contend that this is elitist nonsense. The majority, the vast majority, of Bankview residents are renters, and many are poor (by Calgary standards). They move to Bankview because of the availability of housing, especially rental housing. To insist that only single-family homes be built on sites like this, we destroy the nature of the community and impel its unfortunate transformation into a refuge for the wealthy.

This is a great opportunity. Change the zoning, please. After that, the community association can have its say with the developer about the quality of the new project, and I will be as insistent as anyone on those matters. But nothing positive will come out of refusing this application.

Thank you.

And this is the beautiful, characterful empty lot that the NIMBYs want to save:

Choked with weeds, a nice homeless campsite, makeshift parking lot, and dogshit receptacle. That’s “character” all right.

The Marginal Man

I wrote my BA thesis at Reed on Robert Ezra Park, one of the founders of the Chicago School of Sociology and not, really, all that interesting of a guy. But one of the most relevant and life-changing things I read (or skimmed, but still) as an undergrad was when I came across The Marginal Man: A Study in Personality and Culture by Everett Stonequist, one of Park’s students. A “Marginal Man” is somebody caught between cultures, and the focus of the work was persons who were racial or ethnic minorities (including new immigrants, one of Park’s and the Chicago School’s foci) and the struggles they faced when they attempted to enter the “dominant” culture.

This idea of “marginality” (which is different from the more common sense as synonymous with “powerless” as is usually implicit in contemporary sociology) really resonated with me. I was a first-generation college student, which by itself isn’t uncommon and certainly isn’t, by itself, a sign of Stonequist’s “marginality.” But I wasn’t only first generation; I was the youngest of seven kids in my family and only the second to graduate from high school. I moreover went to friggin’ REED, a liberal arts school 2000 miles from home and a school that was really a place that professors’ kids, and ONLY professors’ kids, belonged. I did not know or expect this when I was admitted; I was just looking forward to a good academic experience at a school that had a reputation for welcoming bookish outcasts, which was how I saw myself at 17.

I did fine at Reed. I graduated and got into a great grad school and am now doing what I dreamed of doing before I even knew what a “professor” was. But I never realised it when I jumped on that train to take me from Chicago to Portland in August of 1982, but I was saying good-bye to more than my mother that day: I was saying good-bye to my whole personal history, and all the people who were part of it. I wish I knew this, then.

What this has to do with today’s rant was really brought home yesterday. Every once in a while, I get on a jag where I become obsessed with contacting, or at least finding out about, people from my previous life: my life pre-Reed. And so I was sitting here with my high school yearbook propped in front of me (really!), googling name after name after name, entering names in the Facebook search bar, and nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I look at a listing in the yearbook and think, “this guy seemed to have his shit together; maybe he did something with his life.” Nope. High school alumni discussion boards? Nix. The hammondindiana.com message board is dead, and even when it was active, it was full of nothing but reminisces from the 1950s before Hammond turned into the terrifying dump that it is now. I even try to search for the haunts of my youth and find these horrifying images of Woodmar Mall, my high school stomping ground of choice. It’s been demolished after languishing in typical dead mall fashion for years.

Tom Wolfe said, “You can’t go home again.” For me, this is true, no question. My hometown qua hometown no longer exists. My mother moved to Griffith, a step up from Hammond, several years ago when it became obvious that the old neighbourhood, which had always been rough, was simply too dangerous for a 70-year-old (at the time) widow. There is no semblance of anything or anyone at “home” for me anymore, and this, combined with the fact that nobody ever, really, tries to contact me, is the bane of my existence. THE BANE of my EXISTENCE. If I had conventionally successful friends (pre-college) with what I think of, given my subsequent education, as a conventional internet presence, I could find them, no problem. But those I left behind are not like me. Well, there are some important exceptions, and you know who you are. But for the most part, I occupy a different world now, and it’s often painful to admit that. I have never once just “run into” somebody I knew from, say, high school, since I was perhaps 20 years old. Never. Not ever.

I have a great life, but damn, this Marginal Man stuff is hard to take sometimes.

If you’re reading this, and you knew me when? Drop me a line. Please.

Island hopping

I. A Wedding and Happy Times

We just returned home after 4 days in Toronto to celebrate the wedding of our friends Steve and Lilla. They were married at the Algonquin Island Clubhouse on the Toronto Islands. This is a neat destination, a kilometre or less off the Lake Ontario lakefront, a stone’s throw (if you have a really strong arm and a really light stone) from downtown. It’s downright bucolic there, on Algonquin Island anyway (that part is 100% residential with lots of pretty little cottages): no cars, wooded, and just incredibly peaceful. Here’s a shot of the bride and groom just as the sun was breaking through the crowds:

The officiant was from the Humanist Association, which is interesting since we also used a Humanist “minister” for our wedding in 2003, which Steve and Lilla both attended. There were lots of good people, good food, good tunes, and loving vibes there. I said it before, of course, but will say again: Love and best wishes to the newly marrieds.

Since we had such a spectacular view of the skyline I wanted to take some pics of it, but the weather wasn’t very cooperative. It was humid and very hazy, so the best I could do was this one of Brian and me:

And there ya go.

SO we stayed at the Town Inn Suites just north of the main strip in the Gay Village, 620 Church, and it was really quite nice, with separate bedroom and living areas (important since Brian brought work and I wanted to sleeeeeep) and a very comfortable, by hotel standards, bed. Rate was very decent, and yeah, I’d stay again. High points of the trip were the wedding of course, seeing friends (Ed, Teresa, Brian #2 (T’s bf) and Dennis), roti and doubles at Island Foods on Friday night (we went to the one on Dundas instead of out standby at King and Dufferin, and it was just as good as King and Duff, this time at least), pizza at Amato (the Yonge St location- it is a DUMP, but their made-to-order pies are incredible, so much better than their slices), seeing the new ROM, and doing lots and lots of walking in the hot-but-not-too-humid, once things blew through Saturday night, weather. It was a very full few days, and man, WE LOVE TORONTO.

II. The Coffee Challenge

But not all was sweetness and light, and as happens too often in my life these days, the problem was coffee. There is one excellent cafe that I am not going to name, but it’s on Granby off Church and its owner seems to hate having customers — well, a customer, namely yours truly — who know something about coffee and dare to attempt a human discussion about coffee, and manages to ignore me when I am, literally, two feet from his face. I’ve suffered this rudeness on prior visits but was willing to give him another chance because his coffee is the only game in town, a town with generally horrid coffee. I decide I will pull this off by not even attempting chat with him, but my plans didn’t go as, uhm, planned. Here is an attempt at the script from Saturday morning.

One guy in line ahead of me and Owner is pulling what looks like a latte to go. I get in line.

Owner: What can I get you?
Me: Cappuccino.
Owner: (after saying something to other customer and not having, in any way, acknowledged that I’d ordered something) How are you doin? (NOTE that he says this while looking AT THE LATTE, and not at me)
Me: (Confused) Are you asking me?
Owner: You’re that guy from out of town, right?
(“That guy from out of town.” Yes, there is only one of us.)
Me: Well, yeah, I’m John from Calgary. I’ve been in here lots of times when I visit, I was here in February.
(Silence. He’s finishing assembling the latte.)
Me: Oh, and that was for here.
Owner: (Pointing to guy in front of me) This is HIS.
(Okay, I can SEE you’re making this guy his drink, but you’ve not even NODDED about my order and I don’t have a CLUE as to whether you know what I’ve ordered or whether it’s for here or not.)
Me: Right. Hey, you really renovated this place!
(and yeah, I will admit that it looks great)
Owner: Yep, it took three weeks.
(okay, three weeks is nothing but whatever)
Me: Wow, it’s great you could get the contractors lined up to get it done that fast.
(silence)
Me: It looks fantastic- it’s a huge improvement.
(silence)
Me: It seems more spacious now.
Owner: Oh hey, Mike! (to the customer who’s now lined up behind me and taken the responsibility off him to respond to me as if I am an actual human being).

And the cappuccino was 8 frigging ounces, not 5 or 6 like any “champion barista” should know, and it was WAY too hot, so I had to drink it slowly and witness him make small talk with regulars who merited humane treatment, for some reason.

And for the record: Yes, I think that everybody should like me.

And so I will not give this place another penny of my business. Problem is, espresso in Toronto is generally horrible, all one click of stale grounds, “tamped” with the grinder attachment, filthy steamwands… I had an espresso at one branch of Lettieri that actually had a La Marzocco Linea (a great machine, very very rare in TO) that came out like water, no other way to describe it. I did have one really excellent espresso, at a place on Mt Pleasant called Il Gelatiere (647 Mt Pleasant, at Hillsdale, south of Eglinton) that had not only fantastic gelato (FANTASTIC!), but also very good espresso from Santos in Rome made on a spotless Elektra Modern. I’ve learned to steer clear of Italian beans but these were perfect, and a single shot was a perfect ounce. Oh, I also had a great macchiato at the brand new Aroma Espresso Bar in the Annex (wow, good espresso in the Annex!!), on Bloor east of the Bloor Cinema. I’ll be back.

Harry Potter, how not to run a street fair, and bar food

The new Harry Potter book was, of course, released at midnight Friday night and apparently 4,000 showed up outside McNally Robinson Booksellers on Stephen Ave. They turned the street into Diagon Alley (or something like that) and it all sounds really cute. Thanks to the parents who brought kids out to the scary downtown that night instead of taking them to sanitized events at Chapters. I don’t know what Diagon Alley looks like, exactly, but I can bet it’s nothing like Chinook Centre.

So Brian and I were downtown on Saturday, had lunch at the always-delicious Han’s in Chinatown (303 Centre Street, in the City Centre mini-mall- the end of the corridor off 3rd Avenue), and went to McNally’s and bought the book.

I finished it at 6:00 this morning.

No worries. No spoilers, yet. I’ll just say that it was satisfying, and I’m glad to have my life back, but a little sad too. I also saw the new film (book 5) a week or so ago and was a little disappointed with the choices made about how to deal with such rich, and lengthy, source material. The film of book 7 comes out in 2010, so that’s something to look forward to.

Sunday was a street festival called “Sun and Salsa Festival” that takes over the Kensington area, which is a very nice, pedestrianized neighbourhood just NW of downtown. It’s sort of reminiscent the Annex in Toronto or the Glebe in Ottawa. Here’s a photo thread of it, compliments of “Surrealplaces” at skyscraperpage.com. As you can see, the area has great character and should be able to put on a great street fair.

They try, and they screw it up. This street fair has a THEME, which is idiotic for a diverse little area like this to begin with (unless that “theme” is pretty vague and inclusive), and the theme has nothing, not a single thing, to do with the community. The theme? Why, salsa! People (75,000 people) line up to but $3 bags of commercial tortilla chips and wander around to taste salsas prepared by various restaurants and other businesses. This is wrong for so many reasons.

1. The neighbourhood has no “Latin American” aspect at all, nada, aside from one absolutely horrible “Mexican” resto that was imported from that Mexican-food paradise known as Edmonton.

2. Instead of using this opportunity to promote local businesses and the BRZ, some among those businesses that might need some promoting, they’re ALL forced to push aside their “normal” offerings and make SALSA. Tibetan restaurant? No, you may NOT promote your delicious momos! You have to make SALSA. Sushi places? Put that rice away, nobody will be allowed to come near your bread and butter; you’re making that Japanese delicacy known as SALSA today.

3. There is NO FOOD! There are many of the aforementioned salsa stations, but what about lunch, what about sampling the cornucopia that is usually provided at these sorts of festivals? Nope, salsa for you or nothing.

4. The fest starts at 11 and ends at, God help us, 5:00. Sure, you could stick around and while away the evening on a patio there, but that’s true any day. Ending a “street fair” at 5:00, in July when it’s light until nearly 10:00, is STUPID.

5. Salsa Fest was the same time as a REAL Latin American event at Olympic Plaza, which I, of course, missed because I was at farking Salsa Fest.

6. People who read this might be offended because the chips are donated and this events makes money for charity. Well, look, you can collect money for charity if you want a themed charity every year- you can have collection points or you can charge merchants a small percentage of REAL food sales. I read in the paper today that Salsa Fest made $2500 for each of two charities. This is, I am sorry to say, pathetic. This event does NOTHING for local businesses, it does NOT promote Kensington at all, and the charity aspect can be accomplished with my suggestions here. $5000 for an event that attracts nearly 100,000 people is terrible.

I’ve usually missed this thing because it usually happens on the Sunday of Folk Fest. Not this year, and not last. Last year I was enthralled by the size of the crowd, I guess, and I came home with strong recommendations to everybody to check it out next year. Now, I’m embarrassed to have done that. It’s pointless, the whole thing, and a waste of an opportunity to do a great street fair in Calgary’s best inner-city neighbourhood.

So we left this fiasco and had lunch at a pub called (I’m sorry) the Regal Beagle. I am too much of a child of the ’70s not to be ashamed to admit this. But here’s the thing- THANK GOD FOR THE SMOKING BAN! This is one of those places that serves superb, cheap, abundant pub grub and I had never set foot in because of the damned smoke. Now we got to revel in fantastic chicken wings (”hotter” among the menu options) and nicely-cooked burgers with a mound of delicious fries… the burgers are served on grilled ciabatta, a great delivery system. Mine was melted swiss and ’shroom, yum, and although nothing on our plated was remotely “healthy,” it was very tasty, honest food that we can finally enjoy in smoke-free comfort. Happy ending to a disappointing morning.