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My sweet old dog died a couple of days ago, and I’m finding it more or less impossible to think about anything else, so this week we are going to talk dogs.
Let me tell you a bit about mine: Her name was Emma, and she was a 14-year-old yellow Labrador Retriever. She liked cheese, squeaky toys, and licking out the almost-empty peanut butter jar.
We’d had her since she was only eight weeks old. She was a very friendly dog, in the way that Labs are. She never heard a child’s voice without an eager “whap” of her tail. She never met a person or a food group that she didn’t like (although, like most of us, she could take or leave salespeople and brussels sprouts).
She spent her entire life in Halifax, except for those first 8 weeks down in Nictaux Falls, and I’m glad she was able to live her life in such a dog-friendly city.
Halifax, when you think about it, is a pretty great place to raise a dog. I look at cities like New York and Toronto, where green spaces and rugged wooded areas are really hard to find, and I compare them to Halifax, where there are just so many beautiful places for a dog and her people to go and get their ya-ya’s out.
What would dog owners do, for example, without Point Pleasant Park? Emma and I must have covered every inch of that park, hundreds of times over. Having the freedom to let Emma run around off-leash was both a blessing and a curse (especially during her disobedient puppy years), but it was really one of the keys to her long and happy life.
Long Lake was another favourite place for us. I loved the scenic wooded trails and the sense of quiet remoteness, and she – without question – loved the lake. She was a swimmer, and a retriever, and in her prime she would obsessively chase sticks, balls, Frisbees, or anything floatable that was thrown out into the water for her.
We also explored the wooded off-leash trails in Shubie Park and Hemlock Ravine on occasion. And when she was younger, before she tore a ligament in her knee, Emma was Queen of the Graceful and Athletic Frisbee catchers on Conrose Field, off Jubilee Road.
But this isn’t even scratching the surface of Halifax’s dog-friendly spaces. There are so many other beautiful parks and trails. If you’re new to town and aren’t quite sure where to take your pooch, there’s a full list of off-leash parks and sports fields available on the HRM website at
http://www.halifax.ca/realpropertyplanning/OLPS/olps_maps.html
You can also find information about the numerous walking trails around HRM here: http://www.halifax.ca/rec/TrailsHrm.html
Pet owners in Halifax have got it pretty good. Being responsible enough to pick up a bit of poop is a small price to pay for living in a city where you can easily raise a happy, healthy companion to a ripe old age.
We already miss Emma terribly, but she certainly lived the good life here with us. Happy trails to my gorgeous old girl.
As I write this, Hurricane Earl is bearing down on Nova Scotia with a rather disconcertingly direct bead on our suddenly fragile-looking maritime province. Tropical Storm Fiona isn’t far behind.
On the plus side, though, the threat of a major storm has allowed me to fully indulge my inner Brownie/Girl Guide. “Be prepared,” we, of the teensy brown uniforms, were taught. “Take action for a better world,” we were made to promise. That may seem like a lot of responsibility to heap on the shoulders of an eight-year-old (can you say “anxiety attack”?) but most of us seemed okay with it.
I probably don’t need to tell you that I was a very successful Brownie. I was “Sixer” of the Pixies – a responsibility I took rather seriously – and even today, you probably shouldn’t mess with me, or I WILL make you re-tie that reef knot in your neckerchief. However, I have to confess that was only an actual Girl Guide for, like, one day. The Brownies “flew me up” because I was about to move to another province, and I never actually joined the Guides in my new home town.
Still, the Brownies taught me everything I needed to know about how to braid hair (read: how to fashion an escape rope out of torn-up bedsheets), how to make a cake (read: how to forage for emergency rations), and, if I recall correctly, how to pick up trash (read: post-disaster cleanup). And now, many decades later, thanks to global warming and my penchant for living near the ocean, I may get to, once again, put all of those skills to good use!
So, the Brownie in me is finding it rather entertaining to peruse my cupboards and ponder mysteries like, “If I ate cold cream of chicken soup right out of the can, would that kill me?”
“If my frozen microwavable dinners all thawed out, could I conceivably cook them with the help of some cleverly-folded tinfoil and a skilfully-wielded brûlée torch?”
And, “Isn’t a tub of melted ice cream really just chocolate soup?”
Resourcefulness is the key thing we ex-Brownies have going for us, and it serves us well in situations like imminent hurricanes, erupting volcanoes, and surprise visits from the in-laws. I seem to recall once whipping up a delightful appetizer out of week-old nacho chips, leftover martini olives, tinned chickpeas and squeeze-cheese. Necessity breeds invention.
But of course, the ideal scenario is that I never actually get to put my snake-bite, lightning-strike, flash-flood, or ripped-off-roof skills to the test. So, I’ve got my fingers crossed that, as you’re reading this, I haven’t spent the past week grating coffee beans on an orange zester and heating water over some burning sticks in the back yard to get my morning caffeine fix.
Not that I wouldn’t enjoy that. And just in case, I’m off to sharpen up that zester.
Perhaps the first word that comes to mind when you think of fiddler Natalie MacMaster isn’t “painter.” Ditto actor Brent Butt of “Corner Gas” fame, and legendary Rush guitarist Alex Lifeson.
And, although I think we could all agree that these folks are talented artists in their own right, I’m guessing that, like me, you’ve never thought of them as artists in the sense of painters, with brushes. On canvas.
But the Kidney Foundation of Canada has seen their full artistic potential, and it’s currently gearing up for a clever fundraiser called “Brush of Hope.” The foundation invites celebrities – mostly Canadian – to create a work of art on canvas, which will be auctioned off on eBay to raise money for kidney research in Canada.
It’s the brainchild of Tim Fox, who is the Executive Director of the New Brunswick/PEI branch of the Kidney Foundation. He brought the idea with him when he moved to Atlantic Canada from the Ontario branch of the Foundation, and he’s been spreading the word via a Facebook group called “A Brush of Hope - Celebrity Paintings for Kidney Research.”
“Last year was the first year that we did in the Maritimes, and it was very popular here,” Fox told me. “So many of the local musicians really picked up on it, there was a lot of “Atlantic Canada” flavour to it. I was thrilled, because I was literally getting people Facebook-ing me saying, ‘Can I paint too?’ It was wonderful.”
Last year the project raised $13,000. This year, Fox hopes to raise at least $15,000, which shouldn’t be too difficult, given the list of celebrities he’s already got on board. The Facebook site already features paintings done by a whole host of familiar personalities, including musicians Jill Barber, Christina Martin, and Natalie MacMaster. There are also works by Canadian and American football players such as Glenn January (of the Winnipeg Blue Bombers), and “NFL Football great” Steve Christie. The site even boasts a limited edition print by Leonard Cohen.
Promised, but not yet posted, are works by Cathy Jones, Shaun Majumder, Brent Butt, Ron James, Tie Domi, and a long list of athletes, musicians, actors and comedians, including the aforementioned Alex Lifeson.
“Alex is definitely a highlight for us,” says Fox. “We asked him if he would paint for us, and I think, to be honest, he was very pleasantly surprised with how well his first painting sold. It sold for $3000, and that really got him excited, so he painted the next year and it sold for $5700. He has been with us every step of the way.”
That’s a nice chunk of change, but I’m betting that you and I will be able to get a lovely little work of art with a bit of celebrity cachet for a whole lot less than that.
Either way, the money goes toward a good cause. “Organ donation awareness and transplantation is a big part of the mission of the kidney foundation,” says Fox. “At any given time, about four thousand Canadians are waiting for a transplant, and just under three thousand of those are waiting for a kidney.”
If you think you might like to do some good and be the proud owner of an Alfie Zappacosta original, check out the Facebook site. More paintings will be posted between now and October, and the auction will run on eBay from October 21 to 31. Each painting will start at $49 USD and will, of course, be sold to the highest bidder. And hands off my Jill Barber.
Because I’m a stereotypically-undervalued arts and culture worker, I don’t have a whole lot of disposable cash to spread around, all carelessly and willy-nilly and stuff. So when I do spend my hard-earned pay, I like to do it at companies that I feel have somehow earned, or at least in some way deserve, my business.
Unfortunately, I’ve noticed a rather unfortunate pattern when I’ve been out shopping around Halifax lately: it appears that many of the bigger businesses have entirely given up on training their staff.
I don’t have any statistics to back up my conclusion, because statistics, as you know, are now considered suspect by our federal government. So, in the new Canadian spirit of going forward without all the information, I will do just that, and draw my own biased conclusions.
First of all, it appears that there is no one out there explaining to the people behind the cash registers that “No problem” is not an equivalent response to “You’re welcome.”
Listen to me: it’s not the same at all. “No problem” implies that there might, in fact, have been a problem.
I’m no marketing expert, but I think that if customers are NOT walking out of your store mumbling, “You wanna bet it’s no problem, Bucko,” then that is a win/win scenario. This is just one example of how a little simple training in terms of customer relations and expectations could possibly go a long way.
Here’s another example of a training void: product knowledge. I recently tried to purchase some house paint, at a chain store whose name combines both our nationality and the round rubber things that support our cars. “Point me to your exterior latex white paint,” I said to the gentleman, who proceeded to point me to a can of primer.
“Perhaps you could direct me to someone who works in this department,” I suggested. “Oh, this is my department,” he assured me. “What about this?” he asked, indicating a can of deck-surfacing substance.
I did not purchase any paint on that occasion.
A few days later, a fan, which had been running pretty much 24/7 at my home for the past month, died. Desperate, I phoned all over town to find a new one, without much luck. Then, I checked a nearby department store’s website, and was excited when I saw that the location closest to me had the fan I needed, in stock.
“Nope,” said the young man, when I called to ask if he could hold it for me. “We ain’t got any fans at all.” He spoke in that dead-sounding, “I-could-not-care-less-about-your-problem” tone of voice. After a bit of back-and forth, in which he blamed me for having the wrong information, I gave up. “Well, thanks for all your help, and thanks for being so polite,” I said.
I believe the sarcasm may have been lost on him.
Perhaps if these things hadn’t all happened within a few days of one another, it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but because it’s becoming a regular occurrence, it’s beginning to feel like part of a bigger problem.
So, how about this? If companies don’t want to invest in their employees, then may I suggest that they just employ robots or set up kiosks or something?
At least a blank stare and a monotone reply from a machine wouldn’t feel quite as ungrateful for my patronage.
Like a lot of people, I suppose, I have a case of convention centre exhaustion. Perhaps by the time you read this, we’ll know whether the province plans to support the controversial downtown development or not. But I’d still like to make one point.
It’s not about potential tax revenues, or large-scale economic impact, or view planes, or even whether potential conventioneers “need” a new venue with bigger rooms or higher ceilings or whatever.
I just want to take issue with one element of the pro-downtown-convention-centre argument: the suggestion that a convention centre would somehow “revitalize” downtown Halifax, in the cultural sense.
Here’s just one example of that argument. In a recent letter to Halifax Magazine, Nova Scotia Business Inc. CEO, Stephen Lund, extolled what he saw as the benefits of the potential office space attached to the project.
“We’d like to see this tower filled with young finance and accounting grads,” he wrote. “Imagine, for a moment, 2,000 to 2,500 more young people working in downtown Halifax, making wages two to three times the average in our province. ...Think of the money they will spend on new cars, houses and restaurants.”
Oh, I’m imagining it. I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings or anything, but a downtown crawling with thousands of young accountants is simply not my idea of a cultural hotbed.
Young financiers aside, this convention centre, if it comes to pass, won’t do anything directly to make downtown Halifax more interesting, more vibrant, or more attractive for Haligonians. Sure, there will be more tourists and office workers around with cash to spend, but downtown has to be about more than bars, offices, hotels and kitschy chain restaurants.
We really need to see more effort put into nurturing the kind of mixed-use applications that might make Haligonians actually want to live and play downtown. Why are there so few families living in the downtown core? Could it be because there’s a lack of affordable housing, few local markets, and very little green space?
We need more support for local businesses that will make our city’s streets more interesting for the citizens of Halifax, not for tourists and visitors. I want my downtown to be full of independently-owned shops selling interesting and original things you can’t buy in tourist outlets or big-box business parks.
I want niche restaurants, a place to get a good burrito, a greasy shawarma or a tasty roti, and spaces where I can sit and people-watch while I enjoy it. I want outdoor performance spaces, buskers, public art and engaging, street-scale, people-friendly architecture.
The fact that so much of the talk about the proposed convention centre is about the potential impact on the economy – and not the culture – of Halifax is disheartening.
If I could spend a Saturday walking around and enjoying my own city, I’d be thrilled. If we opt to leave the downtown in the hands of the accountants and the conventioneers, I suspect we really will get what we pay for.
I am neither a meteorologist nor a mathematician, but I know a weather-related statistical problem when I see one.
Here’s what it is. So far, this week, Halifax’s harbour beaches have been closed every single day. That’s despite the renewed assurances from the mayor and Halifax Water that, thanks to the sewage treatment plant being back online, everything is A-Ok for swimming at Black Rock Beach and Dingle Park again.
This week’s closures have been due to this: any time there is a “heavy rain event” (and I take that term from a news release issued by the Mayor’s office in conjunction with Halifax Water) the wastewater discharged from the “combined sewer overflow chambers” will not receive full treatment, and will be discharged, after screening, directly into the harbour.
“Following the heavy rain events, swimmers should not swim in the harbour for three days,” says the Halifax Regional Municipality’s announcement.
Now, I’ve lived in Halifax for many, many years, and I happen to know that it tends to rain here fairly often during the summer months. Therefore, I have theorized that, if each time there is a heavy rainfall it means that the beaches will be closed for the next three days, the beaches are going to be closed...uh, a lot.
I am a Virgo, though, so not to go on gut instinct alone, I have collected some facts and figures to back up my hypothesis.
I called James Campbell at Halifax Water to ask what the municipality’s definition of “heavy rainfall” is, but he told me it was a difficult thing to put numbers on. “It all depends on the duration and the volume,” he said, indicating that short bursts of rainfall were more likely to overwhelm the system than an all-day rain.
Then I went to the Environment Canada website and started looking back at the climate data for the summer months in Halifax. Since we don’t really know what the tipping point for our sewage system is, I’ve looked at days with “greater than 5mm” of rain on a single day. Between 1971 and 2000, the number of days with that amount of rainfall breaks down as follows:
In the month of June, there have historically been 5.8 days with rainfall greater than or equal to 5 mm. In July, there are usually 4.5 days, and in August, we typically have 4.7 days with that much rain.
That means that, on average, 15 days out of 92 (in June, July and August) have a pretty good dump of rain. And that means that on 45 of those 92 days, the beaches (had they been subject to today’s conditions) might have been closed, depending on how intense the rainfall was. That’s not to mention the 15 days on which it actually rained, so there would most likely have been no one swimming, anyway.
My conclusion, then, is that, despite all the talk about the harbour being so swimmable, the likelihood is that even with the sewage treatment plant online, the water could still be un-swimmable for fully two-thirds of the summer.
So, I guess it might be best not to plan any beach parties at Black Rock or the Dingle this summer (or really, any summer), because the stats simply do not appear to be measuring up in your favour.
After my Mom passed away, I had thought I was finished with the role of caregiver for a while. I’d also thought I was finished with the constant battle I’d faced to find the right kind of care and support for an ailing senior in this city.
Unfortunately, a dear relative of mine has fallen ill, and I’m now caring for him in my home, until I can get him the kind of help he’ll need to return to his own home, safely.
It’s been a frustrating experience so far.
The frustration begins at his family doctor’s office. The doctor herself is incredibly kind and caring, and she has been an absolute godsend through this crisis, but she is so massively overburdened with patients that it’s very difficult to get access to her, even when a problem is urgent.
Then there’s the provincial system of “Continuing Care,” which is supposedly designed to help Nova Scotians deal with just this kind of healthcare crisis, and to help them get the support they need to stay in their homes. Unfortunately, it has taken three weeks to even get an appointment with a care coordinator who will assess the situation (even though I’ve called twice and suggested the situation was urgent). I’m told it will take another six to eight weeks to get any kind of care in place.
Next, there’s the problem of dealing with an illness that’s simply not recognized or understood by many people. In this case, we are dealing with a mental illness; a level of depression so crippling that it renders my beloved relative incapable of caring for himself.
But most people seem to think it means he’s just a little down. I honestly think that if one more “well-meaning” person tells me that all he needs is to get out for a good walk, I may punch that person square in the face.
When I phoned Veterans Affairs, for example, to find out what kind of help he might qualify for from them, the dull-witted youngster who was manning the phone line asked what the nature of his disability was. “Mental illness,” I said. “Clinical depression.” And she said, “No, but what kind of physical disability does he have?”
I will confess that I rather lost it on the phone. No matter; he doesn’t qualify for their help, anyway.
There is a Seniors Mental Health Program at Capital Health, but it can only be accessed through a doctor’s referral (more waiting) or, as we finally had to do, through a visit to the emergency room. I have high hopes for that program, but our date with them is still another week away.
My point, I guess, is that unless you’re willing to dig hard, and unless you know where to look, there’s no easy point of access to care. I’ve spent the better part of the past three weeks interviewing respite care providers and private homecare providers, exploring seniors’ day programs and tracking down mental health resources in Halifax. I’ve sat for hours in various offices and waiting rooms getting medical, legal, and financial advice.
I did find one excellent resource in a service called Caregivers Nova Scotia (caregiversns.org or 431-3297). The person who answers the support line there, offered me an extensive list of suggestions, and, perhaps most importantly, some sympathy.
Caregiving is a tough job, but one I’ve taken on out of love and loyalty. I could use a little help, though. Unfortunately, it feels like we’ve fallen into a gaping hole in the healthcare system.
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