Living Out Loud

Sometimes I think they do this just to torture me. Over and over, Halifax Regional Council raises the spectre of forcing the citizens of HRM to use clear garbage bags, only to retreat and defer the decision to another day, another year, another set of councillors.

I’ll be honest: Despite the fact that I know that the intentions are good, and the plan is meant to be “better for the environment,” I hate the idea.

HRM Solid Waste Resources has proposed that the current household bag limit should be reduced from six to four every two weeks, and that three of the four garbage bags should be clear. One black or green bag would be allowed per pickup.

The argument is that more than 30 percent of the household waste going to the landfill shouldn’t be in the waste stream.

Well, it can’t be that we’re not trying. In my house, I have seven—count ‘em—seven separate receptacles for various types of trash. There’s a container with a blue bag, of course, for cans, bottles and plastics. There’s the green bin, for compostables. I have a separate “green basket” for boxboard that doesn’t fit into the small green bin. I have another basket for newspapers (yes, I am that old-school). I have another bin that used to hold potatoes but had to be repurposed to contain all the plastic bags (bread bags, frozen food bags, etc) that will eventually go, in their own plastic bag, into the blue bag, as is the format requested by HRM. Then there’s the fine paper receptacle in my office. Oh, and finally, the actual garbage can.

Already, all of this separating has meant that much of what I don’t use (I guess I can’t really call it “garbage”) is laid out for full inspection by whoever collects it.

My green-cart collectors must be fully aware that I have a certain propensity for frozen pizzas; that I enjoy a bit of cereal, and apparently drink a lot of coffee, for breakfast; and that I may be in the midst of a bad cold right now, because I’m going through an awful lot of tissue boxes. The men that steal from my blue bag know that I enjoy a cold can of beer now and then, and that we go through a fair bit of homogenized milk in our coffee. The paper collectors, if they were to chat with the green-bin guys, might guess that I read those newspapers with my morning coffee. They also know that I do an awful lot of typing and printing of stuff. (For the record, I rip up all my fine paper before putting it in the bin, and I shred pages that might reveal personal identities or information.)

I am already living out loud through my garbage. How much more bare must I lay my life?

That one black bag we might be allowed is supposed to assuage all the concerns about the further invasion of privacy that clear bags represent, but that just doesn’t cut it. And frankly, I can barely stomach the thought of a walk around the block on trash day.

I think the people who are trying to comply with keeping recyclables out of the landfills ARE trying, and the people who may not be trying as hard, simply may not get it. It’s really complicated, and it’s hard to get it right.

If our citizens aren’t able to understand, I call that a failure of education on HRM’s part. They should keep their eyes on their own educational shortcomings, and out of my bags of trash.

New Building, Big Turn-on

I’ll tell you what gets me excited: Architecture, baby.

That’s right; I said it. Buildings turn me on. More specifically, the architecture of the proposed Halifax Central Library – now that is a building design I could really settle down with.

This peculiar love of mine may go back to the year I spent, way back in the ‘80s, working at the School of Architecture here in Halifax. My job was to hand-label hundreds of slides featuring photos of great buildings from all over the world, and to create a database of those slides. My office was a tiny former bathroom with a computer, a light table, a teensy little window, and not much else.

Sounds tedious, doesn’t it? Perhaps for some folks it would have been, but for me it was a fantastic education. As I explored and researched slide after slide, I learned that every city holds the potential to embrace its culture, to showcase its strengths and to inspire its citizens through visionary architecture.

And as I watch the design process for the new library unfold, I get more and more excited about the impact that this building’s design could have on this city.

For one thing, the architects have been paying close attention to what the people of Halifax want. In a series of public meetings, the designers (Halifax’s Fowler Bauld & Mitchell with international partner schmidt hammer lassen) have asked questions, consulted, brainstormed and explored ideas with citizens who really care about this building and its role in the wider community.

That’s led to a design – not yet fully finalized – that’s both functional and beautiful. The exterior is bold and dramatic. Most striking is the top-floor “slab” which would feature a panoramic view of downtown and the harbour. The floor below is twisted slightly askew, jutting out at the corners with glass that appears orange from outside, but which provides a clear, non-coloured view from inside. The building “envelope” is largely transparent, with some patterned panels, allowing for plenty of natural light.

The interior will be simultaneously grand and intimate. There will be a floor-to-ceiling atrium with impressive staircases, yet the building will have plenty of study areas, quiet spaces, play spaces, and meeting spaces. The building will be fully wired for technology, fully accessible and will feature a ground-floor cafe, performance/public space, and an abundance of green, both inside and out.

Oh, and books. Lots of books. Project Director, George Cotaras of Fowler Bauld & Mitchell laughed as he confessed during the most recent public design consultation that people had expressed concern that early designs hadn’t shown many actual books in the library. He assured the group that the new collection will, in fact, feature a 50% larger collection than the Spring Garden Road Memorial library’s current holdings.

Most importantly, I think, the building will be a space in which every citizen of the municipality can feel a sense of ownership and pride of place. I don’t care if you live in Hackett’s Cove, Harrietsfield or Hubley, this building will have something in it for you, even if that’s just a comfortable place to sit and relax while you wait for your spouse to see a doctor over at the QEII.

You’ll notice I haven’t once said, “Compared to the plan for the Halifax convention centre.”

If all goes according to plan, Halifax’s new central library will open in 2014.

Oh, Hello, Officer

Call me crazy, but pretty much the last thing I want to see when I answer my doorbell is a police officer standing on my front step.

No offence to police officers. Drop-ins by religious evangelists are almost equally disconcerting – although, on second thought, I take that back. The religious folks are usually there to deliver “the good news.” An unplanned visit from a police officer usually means bad news for someone.

Last week, I had a very friendly police officer stop by to ask if I had noticed anything unusual across the street the night before. Unfortunately, I hadn’t, and also unfortunately, her visit meant that the house across the street from me had been burglarized.

A few days later, a neighbour from just up the street approached me as I was mowing my lawn. “I don’t suppose you noticed anything unusual around my house yesterday?” he asked. My heart sank. The police car showed up at his house shortly after we spoke.

Then something else happened that shook me up a little bit.

I had decided to go for a mid-morning walk around my neighbourhood to look for a little inspiration for this week’s column.

As I rounded the corner at the bottom of my street, I heard someone running behind me. When I turned to look, a tall man brushed quickly past me, dressed in a black parka, black toque and black sunglasses. He glanced back at me, and I was sure I was about to be mugged. Then he darted into a nearby yard.

“That guy’s not just out for a jog,” I cleverly observed. Then a van, marked “Shopping Centre Security” came zooming around the corner. The mall is just a few blocks away from where I was walking, and the driver was clearly in pursuit of this fellow. Rather uselessly, I pointed toward the yard he’d run into.

The security guard followed him a bit in the vehicle, before quickly driving off around the block. I could see the runner tearing up through the back yards, in the same direction I was going.

That’s when I realized I was standing on a relatively deserted side street a few blocks from home and some presumably-criminal guy was hiding out in the yards I had to pass by to get home safely.

So much for my quiet walk, but I did get the inspiration I’d been seeking.

The thing is, I’m not really sure what to conclude about it all. Crimes like this happen all the time, although I’m disappointed to hear about them happening within a short walk of my home. I guess it’s the feeling of not being safe in my own neighbourhood that’s bothering me.

I could rant about “crime being on the upswing,” but it isn’t, really. Statistics Canada’s 2009 “Criminal Victimization in Canada” survey concluded that the overall rate of household crimes, including break and enters, has remained stable since 2004. However, the Halifax Regional Police Department did note in a September press release that crime in HRM is up slightly this year, driven by an increase in property crime.

I suppose the lesson is that I shouldn’t get too complacent. At least I got a heads-up to go around and confirm that all my basement windows are secure.

Yesterday the police were in front of my house again, interviewing someone about what I presume was yet another break-in. So, in light of this new reality, I’d just like to say one thing: police officers, you are now welcome to stop by any time.

The Jane Goodall of Traffic

In traffic, as in life, there used to be a few standard rules a person could count on: a stop sign or a red light meant, “Come to a full stop here, my good fellow.” And a yellow light meant, “Whoa, slow down, yo.”

But lately I’ve noticed – sharp-eyed trend-watcher that I am – that Haligonian drivers are running yellow lights, red lights and stop signs with rather disconcerting regularity.

I’ll admit that I occasionally drive through a yellow light myself, particularly if I feel that there’s a strong risk that my car will get rear-ended if I stop in a hurry.

That said, there are plenty of drivers who seem to see a yellow light as an invitation to speed up, and a stop sign as a vague suggestion to slow down. How do I know? Well, in the interests of science and journalism and good governance, I put on my invisible “special constable” hat, and went out onto the streets of Halifax to become the Jane Goodall of Traffic.

Now, I know that as good Canadians we’re not supposed to trust raw data anymore. Apparently, it’s best to just let some federal government spokes-type make vague assertions about “the way things are” and leave it at that. But you know me. I just don’t trust The Man the way I should.

So I parked my butt at the intersection of Oxford and Almon Streets at nine-thirty on a weekday morning to test out my traffic theories. Over the course of twenty minutes, I watched a dozen drivers gun it to make it through a yellow light, and saw six drivers more or less run a red light. My thesis was proving correct.

But I’d noticed that it wasn’t just traffic lights that people seemed to be barrelling through, so my notebook and I moved to the four-way stop at Harvard and Allan Streets. Perhaps “four-way STOP” is the wrong name for this type of intersection. In a twenty minute period I watched a mere nineteen cars (or 28%) come to a full stop. Twenty-nine cars (or 43%) slowed down a bit and then rolled right though the intersection. But another 28% barely touched the brake pedal at all, more or less driving straight through the stop sign. Rather amusingly, one of those non-stopping vehicles was actually a truck marked “Traffic Control Division.”

Anyway, my next stakeout was on the street that runs down past the Halifax Shopping Centre, between Bayers and Mumford Roads. Apparently, this street is called “Halifax Shopping Centre Boulevard.” Halfway down, there’s a three-way stop that intersects with the lower level of the parking garage.

It was here that I witnessed the most glaring offences of my entire scientific survey. Only 17% of the drivers I watched came to a stop at any of the three stop signs. Almost half - 48% - just touched the brake then rolled through. But most disconcerting of all, 34% - that was forty-seven drivers in twenty minutes – barely slowed at all, and most drove right through at full speed.

What, exactly, is the point of my Nobel-worthy research, you may ask? To provide proof of humanity’s further downward slide into amorality and corruption? Yes. Oh, and also to remind people to watch out for these goofballs. The police can’t be everywhere at once, so I think we could all benefit from being a little more watchful for these traffic anarchists.

And if you need a bit of happy government-style spin on my rather depressing findings, how’s this? “Halifax Drivers Going Green: Minimal Wear on Brake Pads Means Fewer Car Parts in Landfill.”