No matter how I tried to explain it (friends and relatives nearby, summer lake life, affordable housing, arts, culture, music, NDP government, etc.) no one seemed to believe that I knew what I was doing, and that Winnipeg was what my heart longed for. But I moved here anyway.

Several of the senior partners at my old law firm in Vancouver had gone to law school in Winnipeg back in the day. And so when it became known that I was leaving the Best Place on Earth for Winnipeg, they all wished me well and offered me words of wisdom. As I’m sure you know, when people think of Winnipeg, they think of cold, and they think of mosquitoes. My favourite rebuttal to this came from one of these Manitoba Law School grads: “The best thing about Manitoba is that there are no mosquitoes in the winter, and no snow in the summer”. Looking back, I guess that’s sort of a backhanded compliment to the province, but somehow in perfect fitting with dry prairie humour and practicality.

My first weeks in the city, typical hot and sunny July days, were spectacular.  People actually talked to each other on the bus. Drivers give each other “the wave”. On Mulvey Street kids drew on sidewalks and neighbouring families had garage sales together.  The places in Carol Shields’ fine novels The Republic of Love and Larry’s Party suddenly came alive. Grosvenor, Ash.  I could actually walk along them!  Notices everywhere for the cleverly named “Dr. Hook Towing”. Stop signs that had the words “Hammer Time” spraypainted beneath “stop”. Everywhere I looked, something quaint, something wonderful. I also smelled malathion for the first time and learned that the mosquitoes are every bit as bad as “they” say they are. In spite of this, I felt as though I knew something the rest of Canada didn’t, some well-kept secret, a treasure trove of city life.

That summer, the Free Press ran a series called “Winnipeg from A-Z”, and it was a great introduction to the city.  One of my favourite lettters was James Turner’s piece, “V is for Vertical Height (or Lack Thereof)“, which theorizes about the reason for Winnipeg’s inferiority complex.

I went to Staples and bought a bookcase. They delivered it – free! – the next day. I was stunned. I’d heard Manitobans were cheap, but free delivery for an $80 bookcase was something I’d never encountered.

I learned that here, little desserts are called dainties. I found about socials and presentation and found them simultaneously fascinating and repellent. I heard about spongee and marvelled at a sport only known to this city.  Laughed at the word “yurt” – I’d never heard it before. Got laughed at when I used the phrase “gym strip” (guess it’s an Alberta thing?).  And secretly thought it was a bit trashy that what I’d call a duplex, Manitobans call a “side by side”.  I relished each of these linguistic discoveries, mundane as they are.

But also:

I’ve learned that people do just as many stupid things here as they do everywhere else. People are ignorant, racist, selfish. For every friendly Manitoban there is an arrogant jerk. (A lot of them hang out on the Freep website, leaving comments to prove they exist.)

I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why Manitoba doesn’t have a container deposit system – it’s ridiculous. I’m perplexed as to why the city is building a rapid transit bus line and not something more efficient, and well, major city-esque. I am appalled that Manitoba has one of the worst child poverty rates, and the second highest rate of child food bank users in Canada with 51% of food bank recipients being children. For every boast-worthy quality Manitoba has, it has another that’s strange or worse, shameful.

Ultimately, the city doesn’t seem that new or novel or exciting to me as it once did. A lot of the time, it just feels like the city I live in – nothing more and nothing less. Those rosy first impressions have become nostalgia – things I remember vividly but seem out of reach.

I’ve learned that no matter what city you’re in, you have to make the most of it – great things won’t just happen to you by osmosis. Truth be told, since the day I moved, there have been lots of days that I didn’t love Winnipeg as much as I thought I did. The longer I am away, the more I appreciate my hometown of Lethbridge. And I do miss a lot of things about my 20s stomping grounds of Vancouver.

There are still aspects and areas of Winnipeg and beyond the Perimeter that I have yet to explore. As I settle into a new life stage – I’m not a freewheeling single anymore! I have commitments and responsibilities! – I will come to know the city in different ways, and I look forward to seeing what they are.

I expect that I will become more philosophical on topics like community, parenthood, and public education – things that will probably start to play more of a role in my life than honey dill sauce, block heater cords, and ten-digit dialing. (Besides, I have been converted to the Church of Honey Dill Sauce, and I’m not ashamed to say it.) Will those meatier topics fit into this blog? There are times when I would love to share a recipe or a beautiful photo of my son but I don’t, because they are not relevant. Maybe all I need to do is change its tagline and release myself from the confines of “moving to Winnipeg” – I’m really not sure.

Writing Winnipeg O’ My Heart has been a wonderful experience, and I regret that I haven’t been able to devote more thought and time to it since the initial posting frenzy of its first year. This isn’t a blog about moving to Winnipeg anymore. It’s something else, and I’m not sure what. I no longer have the same level of civic pride (some called it boosterism, even) that I had three years ago, when I also shared the writing and idea load with two friends. It’s been a little lonely here since, even with the ever-increasing number of fantastic Winnipeg blogs out there, providing constant inspiration. At times, I’ve  found myself wondering whether I’m really contributing anything to that community, or  just trying to fatten thin ideas up just so I have something to blog about. Or worse, thinking, “If I could figure out how to make some money off the blog, I would write on it more often.” Not a great approach. It’s strange how having a blog gives you this weird sense of obligation when really, unless you’re being paid to blog, there’s no reason you should feel obliged.

This isn’t a farewell post, maybe just a way to explain where I’m at with Winnipeg and with this blog. Maybe I’m also giving myself permission to not worry about blogging more often. If you have thoughts on what direction to take this blog, topics you’d like to see written about, or thoughts in general about blogging malaise, I’m all ears and would love to hear from you

In Winnipeg at Christmas there’s lots and lots of snow,
Very clean, and crisp and hard
And glittering like a Christmas card
Everywhere you go;
Snow upon the housetops, snow along the street,
And Queen Victoria in her chair
Has snow upon her snowy hair
And snow upon her feet.

In Winnipeg at Christmas they line the streets with trees-
Christmas trees lit up at night
With little balls of coloured light
As pretty as you please.
The people hurry past you in furry boots and wraps;
The sleighs are like a picture book,
And all the policemen look
Like Teddy Bears in caps.

And oh! The smiling ladies and jolly girls and boys;
And oh! The parties and the fun
With lovely things for everyone-
Books and sweets and toys.
So, if someday at Christmas you don’t know where to go,
Just pack your bags I beg,
And start at once for Winnipeg;
You’ll like it there I know.

Source: River Gate Inn via Wayback Machine

For an interesting look at the poem and its author, check out this audio clip from CBC Radio.

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!

Frigs Natural Meats -   3515 Main Street, West St. Paul, MB

This one’s a bit of a drive, but Frigs Natural Meats is a great butcher that sells a huge variety of naturally-raised meat and poultry that is antibiotic- and growth-hormone free. After watching a very alarming episode of Marketplace about superbugs on grocery store chicken, I knew we needed to make a change to the meat we eat. Some friends of our recommended Frigs (especially for their bacon!) and shortly thereafter I began buying all of our meat, poultry and eggs there. All fresh and frozen meat is 10% off on Wednesdays, so usually I go that day.  It is one extra stop in my grocery shopping, and requires a little extra planning, but we feel really good about supporting this business. And also, their Kubi-Dogs are amazing.

See also: Savour Winnipeg and Riverside Kitchen

The Crusty Bun - Unit H-1026 St. Mary’s Road, Winnipeg

My aunt introduced me to The Crusty Bun, and now whenever I am in St. Vital I try to swing by and grab some of their scrumptious bread! This little gem is a bakery cafe, and if I am there for breakfast or lunch,  I get the “Small German Breakfast”, which includes two amazingly soft yet crusty buns, cheese, ham, jam, and a coffee or tea. The Crusty Bun sells a wide variety of breads, buns, and other glutenny goodness (my favourites are the pumpkin seed bread and the salt pretzels) alongside tasty pastries, cookies, and cakes. There is often a lineup, but it’s worth the wait. They call it European-style, I call it delicious… check it out!

High Tea Bakery – 2103 Portage Avenue  Winnipeg

Though I have yet to complete part 2 of my quest for Winnipeg’s best Imperial cookie, I have a hunch that the High Tea Bakery will take the honours. This bakery is a little out of the way for me – it’s a ways down on Portage and not surrounded by a whole lot, but again, worth the drive. They make the most delicious, beautiful cookies and dainties, and custom cakes as well. The High Tea has made special Imperials for Queen Elizabeth’s visit to Winnipeg and in honour of the Royal Wedding. They’ve even been to the Golden Globes! They also sell a good selection of Murchie’s teas, coffee, and hot chocolate – I think it might be the only place in Winnipeg that does – correct me if I’m wrong.

Pineridge Hollow - Just outside Bird’s Hill Park

Pineridge Hollow describes itself as a “restaurant, boutique, furniture showroom and reception venue” but this doesn’t really do it justice. About a half-hour drive from my house in Glenelm, Pineridge Hollow is a wonderful place to escape for a few hours, summer or winter. There’s a restaurant that focuses on local food and a huge giftware and home decor shop open year-round. During the summer, there’s also a weekly farmer’s market and greenhouse. And randomly, there is a small section of farm animals: on a recent visit, we saw goats, sheep and a rabbit! Definitely one of my favourite places to zip to for a girls’ day out or just a nice destination for a country drive. I’m hoping someday soon I’ll be invited to a wedding at Pineridge – it is just the most beautiful setting. I only wish they had a small inn, too!

 Which local businesses do you love to shop at?

Anyway, there are actually quite a few of us provincial ex-pats, and in this post I want to share a few of their blogs.

Maude in Manitoba

Sheri moved from Ontario to Brandon for no good reason… I like her already! My favourite post concerns brands and colours of farming equipment commonly seen in Manitoba. Lately she’s been wondering why Winnipeg has to be the centre of the universe in this province – doesn’t Brandon deserve some love? (Good question!)  I’m looking forward to reading all about Sheri’s adventures in her new hometown. (And seeing what other funny things she learns about our little province!)

My Move to the ‘Peg (Going to Winnipeg)

You may remember that I talked to Jess a few months ago. This hockey-crazy Vancouverite moved here in 2010 and has been sharing her take on our city ever since. She’s slowed down in her posting lately… I guess she’s just having too much fun What have you been up to, Jess?

A Weekend, in Food

Honeybee shares her culinary adventures in Winnipeg after moving here from Ontario. She writes about local restaurants and shares recipes of her own. I loved her Tour de Winnipeg local foods project, and the fact that she dared to bash Sals. And also that she admits to liking pole syrup (Amen!).

Little Gray Bird

This Nova Scotia native writes thoughtful posts about exploring Manitoba, often discussing similarities and differences between her experiences in the two provinces. She’s written about all sorts of Manitoban regionalisms, from lingo (booters), to accomodations (yurting ), to food (pickerel cheeks and matrimonial cake). Almost  everything she writes resonates with me on some level, and I always look forward to new posts.

Project Zoom 

This one’s sort of an exception. Did you hear about Project Zoom? A couple from Mississauga decided to zoom around the country, living as locals in 10 provincial capitals for one month each. Winnipeg was their city for October, and they had lots of adventures here. Check out their posts on strolling down Wellington, exploring the murals of Winnipeg,  and what they thought of our transit system. Yvonne and Jim are off to Regina now… I wish them the best of luck on their fascinating journey!

Am I missing any others?

When I was growing up, my family’s church had potlucks a couple times a year. This is probably where my logic-defying love of jellied salads (the normal, desserty ones, not the ones that incorporate actual salad ingredients like lettuce and peas) was developed, but I digress. I’d sort of forgotten that the church put on “Fall Supper”, too. So when, during my first autumn in Manitoba, I started seeing signs for fall suppers around town, I was reminded of how much I loved these meals, and became very keen to go to one — or two, or three

The Fall Supper is a widespread and beloved prairie tradition. According to Travel Manitoba,

“Autumn has been a season of super suppers for more than a century in rural and small-town Manitoba. The harvest-time meals were originally called “fowl suppers” because the main course was typically duck or goose. … Local residents donate the food and labor for these seasonal fundraising events. Proceeds benefit community and social service organizations, veterans groups, churches, and other nonprofit causes.”

Another Travel Manitoba article describes how each supper has its own idiosyncracies:

“Each supper has its own style. At St. Pierre-Jolys, half-a-dozen local school band students open the dinner from a balcony overlooking the hall, trumpeting through an awkward but earnest rendition of O Canada. St. Francois Xavier sets up bake sale tables of dainties, cookies and pastries. At Oakville, dinner tickets are purchased through the driver’s side window from two fellows in an idling minivan parked beside the entrance; their cash box a gallon-size ice cream bucket. At La Salle, children carry platters of veggies and dip outside to keep folks waiting in line from getting peckish while they cool their heels for the next sitting.”

Doesn’t this sound wonderful? And I just love this blog post about typical fall suppers (albeit Saskatchewan ones) from the author’s childhood, and the pleasure of stumbling upon one as a hungry, tired adult:

“It was Christmas dinner without being worried if Uncle Al would drink too much or crazy old Aunt Margaret would call a curse down on the Catholics during grace. The gaiety of the kids tables now translated to adults free of their social norm and in an atmosphere where a guy could openly flirt with the woman next door because she just made such great scalloped potatoes and a lonely telephone operator could draw an appreciative smile from a gentleman farmer with her flaky pastry.”

Love it! Anyway, this is a post I’ve been wanting to write for a very long time, because for whatever reason, I didn’t manage to get to a Manitoba fall supper until this past weekend. My in-laws took the whole family to the Ile Des Chenes Fall Supper instead of having us over for our usual Sunday dinner.

My plate at my first Fall Supper - delish!

The supper was held at the brand-new IDC Community Centre and when we arrived at 5pm, the place was packed – I’d guess there were at least 500 people there. Once we had our tickets (blue for dinner, red for dessert) we got in line, mouths watering. We were handed plates and napkins by kids from Seine River Minor Baseball (the supper was in support of them) and piled them high with buns, coleslaw, Caesar salad, ultra-tasty pickles, and cubed cheese. Once we got to the service stations, we were offered turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, veggies, sweet and sour meatballs, gravy, and the meal’s proclaimed winner, homemade perogies, slathered in butter and onions. They were so good; imagine sour cream and onion chips, only in perogy form… awesome!

The funniest part of the evening was when my sister-in-law, who is also not from Manitoba, exclaimed with surprise, “This food is really good!” Everyone just looked at her like, “Duh! It’s a fall supper!” Styrofoam plates can be deceiving

After we’d all but licked our plates clean, we headed over to the dessert table, where we each selected a treat from an ever-changing spread of homemade cakes, pies, dainties (hah, I wanted to write “squares” just there, but when in Manitoba…), cookies, and cupcakes. We polished those off, chased them with Caisse-logo emblazoned cups of coffee, then cleared out to make room for awaiting hungry diners.

My first fall supper experience was a bit hurried – between knowing there were lots of folks waiting in line, and chasing our energetic  16-month around the room, it wasn’t exactly relaxing. I think next time we’d try to go a little earlier and maybe bring a booster seat along. But I loved the whole event – the food, the atmosphere, the feeling of all ages spending time together, and all the friendly faces.  I can’t wait to go again sometime.

Here’s a giant list of all the fall suppers held in Manitoba this year. There’s still time to check one (or more) out!

Did you go to any fall suppers this year? Have fond or funny memories of suppers past? Which town has the very best one? I’d love to hear all your fall supper stories!

I spent that night in a foul mood, angry that instead of celebrating this remarkable milestone in family healthcare, this broadcaster was playing to people’s fears and spinning a misleading story, not based on fact or evidence. I was so miffed that I actually registered on the CBC website to leave a comment on the accompanying story (yes, I became one of those people!). My comment didn’t make it past moderation, which annoys me greatly as it wasn’t at all inappropriate. Fortunately, I quickly discovered others felt the same way I did: Tanya at Double Booter and Melissa at Nothing in Winnipeg both wrote excellent posts, calling out this story’s major flaws. I encourage you to read both posts.

In Safe Births and Sad Stories, Melissa writes:

“Ms. Dorber’s tragedy does not appear to have a systemic link to the new Birth Centre, and it appears that the issues that caused her son’s death are unlikely to have relevance to this new institution.”

In On the Contrary, Winnipeg’s New Birth Centre will be Safe, Tanya writes:

“CBC is using one person’s account, one anecdotal reference to make a case that safety at the new Birth Centre is legitimately under question. The woman interviewed states she gave birth in 1996, which is before midwives were licensed to practice in Manitoba (this happened in 2000). Therefore I am assuming she was in the care of an obstetrician or family doctor at the time, and not a midwife. This is kind of an important point to leave out of a story questioning the safety of midwives.”

This is the crux of my complaint: after hearing or reading this story, people who know nothing (or are ill-informed) about midwifery will associate the birth centre with babies dying. This comes in the wake of a terribly misleading and uninformed article in Maclean’s entitled “Is Home Birth Safe?“. (Fortunately, Mothers of Change blogger Asheya Hennessey did a wonderful job of dispelling myths and educating commenters to that article. )

I thought twice about discussing this topic on my blog, as I tend to shy away from political discussions. But this is not a political issue, it’s a human issue, and if I can use my blog to encourage others to open their minds a bit, that’s the best I can hope for.

Society needs to see what kind of people support midwifery, birthing centres, and home birth. We’re not  crunchy hippies who sit around chanting Kumbayah and eating hemp hearts and drinking soy milk (though certainly, there was one such lovable dreadhead in my prenatal yoga class!). We’re everywhere: average Canadian women and men who recognize that birth is a normal life process that’s been overmedicalized, to the detriment of mothers and babies. We’ve learned that midwives are experts in birth, who have an evidence-based model of care. They are well-trained and prepared to handle emergencies, and work with doctors and hospitals to ensure safe and healthy births.

Birth is personal. On many levels, the safest place for a woman to give birth is the place she feels safest in. For many, that would be a hospital. But for many others, it would be at home or a birth centre.  Winnipeg’s birth centre is expected to handle 500 births a year, but if the overwhelming demand for midwives in this province is any indication, they’ll probably be turning clients away because they can’t accommodate them all. But, baby steps, baby steps.  Over the coming weeks and months, many Winnipeggers will be celebrating our new birth centre, not questioning its safety.

To sum up, I think Melissa put it best:

“So I say: until we have data on our own Birth Centre, let’s judge its potential for safety on what we already know about the safety of similar birthing choices, and not give power to fear drawn from elsewhere. That, I opine, is the best and most responsible approach for women and the babies they bear.”

 

Update: The grand opening for the Winnipeg Birth Centre is taking place on Oct 12!  ”Women’s Health Clinic invites you to join us in an opening celebration of the Birth Centre on Sunday, October 16th from 1-4 pm at 603 St. Mary’s Road.  Opening Ceremony is at 2 pm.”

However, in one life’s annoying clashes of values and action, I did want to eat locally-grown fruits and veggies this summer. I’m the daughter of a soil scientist who had a sticker on his guitar case that read, “If you don’t support agriculture, quit eating.” Increasingly, this idea has been weighing on my mind, especially so after reading Barbara Kingsolver’s  ”Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.” My good friend Courtney in Calgary bought a CSA farm share* last year, and that gave me the idea that we could do the same. When Dine Out Winnipeg posted a note that ROC and The Fern Orchard and Gardens was selling shares for the 2011 growing season, we did the math and decided it was a good fit. We sent in our deposit to the farmers, Eric and Jodi, in May and then we waited for the bounty to roll in.

We didn’t wait long. One afternoon in mid-June, Eric arrived with our first delivery: a large bag full of spinach and a smaller one with radishes, which we marvelled at, knowing they’d been in the ground not 24 hours ago.

A portion of our Sept. 22nd delivery - I forgot the take a picture beforehand, so my beets have already been roasted and packed up for the freezer.

Since then, we’ve been receiving weekly boxes (which are ever-increasing in size)  of wonderful, fresh, organically-grown veggies and berries, and it’s been an adventure. Getting things I’d never bought before – like Swiss chard and tomatillos – meant finding creative (and usually delicious) ways to use them. I developed an appreciation for every part of a plant -for instance, roasting beets, blanching and freezing the stems for throwing into soups or sauteing down the line, and using the leaves to make one of my all-time favourite Manitoba dishes: beetniks.

Since we only have one fridge, and we get more than our family of three can possibly eat in a week, I quickly learned that I needed to set aside Thursday nights to “deal with” our produce – cleaning, sorting, storing, freezing, etc., so that nothing was wasted by letting it go bad. I’m still figuring out a rhythm in this regard, but I have learned that scrubbing potaotes and beets and listening to podcasts is a surprisingly relaxing way to spend an evening!

When we signed up for our farm share, I was expecting to get delicious, organically-grown veggies, straight from the farmer, and just as expected, I felt great about that. What I wasn’t expecting was the sense of closeness to the land that I have developed. I follow a number of food blogs, but many of them are based in the US, where  a) there’s a much bigger variety of produce grown, and b) the stuff that also grows here is in season much earlier in the year. So the constant refrain of “eat local, eat in season” seemed cruel and taunting to someone living smack in the middle of the Canadian prairies. I really had no idea of what eating in season looked like in practice.  I’m no expert now, but I’ve found the progression and order of crops to be a graceful, fascinating thing.

Many of us are so far removed from our agricultural roots that we don’t even know where to begin. Growing up, my family always had a vegetable garden, but it wasn’t something that I continued into my adulthood – years of apartment rentals and a natural inclination to indoor activities will do that to you, I guess. I still bought some produce at the grocery store this summer — fruit mostly, and salad greens once the spinach and lettuce stopped coming in our farm share. But most of the veggies we ate either came from our farm share or the farmer’s market, and that was a great feeling. If you’re interested in seeing what we got in our farm share over the last couple months, I’ve been keeping track here, along with a few notes on what we ate fresh and what we froze. All in all, getting a local farm share was a great experience and I think we’ll probably do it again next year.

Have you ever bought a farm share? What was your experience like?

*CSA stands for Community Supported Agriculture, and in this model, people buy shares in a farm and share both the profit, in the form of produce, and the risk (if crops aren’t great due to weather, you’ll only get what the farmers are able to harvest).

This was my first time (since I moved here, of course) being away from Winnipeg for such a long time. Over the course of our travels I made some mental notes about the other prairie places we found ourselves in.

• In Regina, we witnessed the most polite Tim Horton’s drive through line on earth (“that would never happen in Winnipeg!”), and admired the city’s lovely downtown, which is full of interesting buildings and seemed particularly lush with big green trees
• In Edmonton, we bought some Alley Kat and Wild Rose beer and are curious to see how it stacks up to Half Pints. We also looked longingly at the city’s LRT system and wondered why, with an only slightly smaller population, we couldn’t have the same transit system at home. Also: Edmonton is getting a Crate & Barrel. Nice.
• In Red Deer, we listened intently to a temporarily displaced Winnipegger friend of ours as he described how much he liked his new city – he feels there is considerably less crime there (and thought the city’s plan to build a new police headquarters right across the street from the town’s rowdiest nightclub was brilliant!). He’s also totally impressed by the sense of community and loves the amount of recreational opportunities available to him.
• In Saskatoon, I was interested to hear from an old college friend about her city’s crazy rental market – seems low vacancy rates are a problem throughout the prairies.
• In Lethbridge, I bought local blackberry wine at the farmer’s market. Can we do that here? It would be pretty sweet if we could. (Excuse my nerdy fruit wine pun.)
• In Calgary, I felt jealous of all the farmer’s markets that are open for more than one day a week. Some even have indoor locations! Also, I couldn’t resist a quick trip to Ikea and felt even more excited that we’ll have our own store before too long.

There were things about other cities that made me a bit jealous. But I also experienced something that made me appreciate my Winnipeg surroundings even more. Many friends and family members we visited live in newer neighbourhoods with young trees that are just starting out. I love that in my neighbourhood, the elms are decades old, and create spectacular, shady canopies above the streets. And I love going away and coming back to subtle changes – like the progress on the Disraeli Bridge, and the new sign at Sonya’s Restaurant!

I hope you’ve all managed to pack lots of fun into your Winnipeg summers. Aside from our road trip, the highlight of my summer was going to Grand Beach for the first time in my adult life…it was amazing. The water was perfect, the waves were huge and so much fun, and I loved that it only took us an hour to get there. We really are lucky in this neck of the woods.

What do you miss about Winnipeg when you’re away? What aspects of other cities make you jealous?

I have no idea whether these run on TV or just online, but I do kind of like them.That’s probably because these “Winnipeg things” are all still new and novel to me. Not such a bad way to see the world, though… right?

The Freep and Hot 103 are running a contest right now by the same name, collecting entries on what the best summertime Winnipeg or Manitoba thing is. I read through a bunch of them and my initial reaction was that none of them are really long enough to paint a particularly persuasive picture. And so many of them could be summertime activities anywhere in Canada. But the more I read of them, the more I started to get it.

I was stoked to learn that you can go canoeing — inside the city! I discovered there’s a famous tree at Kildonan Park, that I’m thinking I’ll have to check out in the next few weeks. The entry about Manitoba’s “big things” brought a smile to my face, as I remembered how much my late grandmother loved these things, too. An ode to dusk is short and sweet and reminded me of my own childhood.

But for what it’s worth, my money’s on Jim Anderson’s poem!

Okay, a couple weeks ago I looked at wedding socials, those ubiquitous Manitoba nuptial fundraisers.  Today I want to talk about another strange wedding-related tradition that is so common here in the Keystone province: presentation.

Before I moved to Manitoba, I received an invitation to a wedding that would be held in Winnipeg. The invitation was beautiful  - on heavy, creamy cardstock with engraved lettering, wrapped in a silky ribbon – all the stuff girls care about. Beneath the usual day-time-place details was a single word on its own line: presentation.  I had no idea what this meant! I asked around, to see if anyone had ever encountered such wording on a wedding invitation. One friend thought maybe it was something to do with a dress code. Another thought maybe it meant there would be a formal receiving line. And then I called my mum, and she laughed and said, “It means they want money, not gifts”.

I’m not going to say I was flabbergasted (this was before I knew about socials, after all!)  but I was quite taken aback. What had the world come to? First, it was bad enough that people started printing their registry information on their invitations. Now they were just asking for money flat-out?

Well, it turns out that this is a totally common practice in Manitoba. In fact, there is a whole spectrum of ways to stipulate that you don’t want gifts, you want cold hard cash – and you can do it right on the invitation. For instance, you might see one of the following tucked away neatly, in a wedding-y font, at the bottom of the invite [snarky comments mine]:

• Presentation
• Presentation Optional [So nice of you to give me a choice!]
• Presentation Preferred [Good to know.]
• Presentation Accepted [Phew!]
• Presentation Only [I KNOW!!!]

You’ve got to admit, if it weren’t so totally against even the laxest of etiquette guidelines, it would be totally genius. I mean, one little word cuts through all the awkwardness and tiptoeing around the subject. Guests are of course, not obliged to bring gifts to a wedding, but almost all do. And often they like to give something the couple needs or wants, which sometimes is money.  It’s crude for a couple to say “we prefer cash”, but “presentation” elegantly does the dirty work for them. But that’s just it… it’s awfully mucky in that territory.

Back in the olden days, if you wanted to know what the couple wanted, you’d ask a family member or close friend for a suggestion. When registries (still considered distasteful by some) came along, same thing – you’d ask someone close to the couple where they were registered. I don’t know why this policy doesn’t still work when a couple wants cash, as many who are joining established households or saving for a major purchase such as house, understandably do. I guess people have decided that any oral discussion of money is taboo… but putting it in writing isn’t. I don’t know.

I find the whole idea of presentation strange, as the word itself indicates that you would be physically presenting the money to the couple, when as far as I know, most people just drop their card stuffed with cash into a basket or box at the gift table. I’m sure that’s how the term originated, but from what I understand, it’s not done anymore, except in certain cultures where cash gifts are traditional. Speaking of gift tables – I went to a local wedding, for which the invitation specified presentation preferred, but I brought a gift. (I realize that bringing a gift to the reception is considered bad form too – hey, I’m not perfect!)  When I gave it to the people manning the table with the card basket and guest book, their body language made it clear that a physical gift was very inconvenient and that they hadn’t really planned a spot to put gifts! Serves me right, I suppose.

I’m not the only person who is intrigued by this whole concept. As I was doing a little research for this post, I came across a recent article from the Journal of Folklore Research, by two researchers at the U of W, Pauline Greenhill and Kendra Magnusson.  “Your Presence at Our Wedding Is Present Enough”: Lies, Coding, Maintaining Personal Face, and the Cash Gift” goes into great detail on presentation practices of Winnipeggers. (You can access it online through EbscoHost on WPL’s electronic resources, if you’re a nerd like me and just have to read the whole thing!) The abstract of the paper reads:

“In the city of Winnipeg, Manitoba, the word presentation-signifying a cash wedding gift as an alternative to material objects, and usually stated on the lower right-hand corner of the wedding invitation-has become recognized, if somewhat controversial, across class, linguistic, and ethnocultural boundaries. Both implicit and complicit coding methods overshadow or disguise the transactional nature of the cash gift in order to make the request more polite. Presentation is echoed in such forms as rhymed cash requests and themed receptacles, which likewise disrupt the economistic undertones of the cash gift while maintaining the personal face of the wedded couple and their guests. We argue that such customs offer layered codes that not only reinforce the taboo on requesting cash, but critique capitalism’s invasion of this rite of passage and its associated events”

The term “presentation wedding” is used throughout, and that just makes me shudder. As if the defining characteristic of the wedding is the type of gifts the couple is demanding they receive.   I personally have never heard someone describe a wedding as such, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I do.

Now, even if you do want to give the couple money — because after all, it is a totally appropriate and welcome gift — how much do you give? I noticed a plea from Ace Burpee on Twitter a few months ago, asking what the going rate is for presentation these days. Several people responded and all used a formula based in part on what they were “getting” at the reception. One person based her amount on the price of the meal, plus an extra $10-20. Another said if it was open bar and dinner, $150 a head. Yet another said “pay for your plate then $100 or more”. Again, I find the idea that you somehow must pay your way at the reception, which is essentially a gift from the wedding’s hosts to their guests, extremely unsavoury. Ick… another horrible aspect of presentation.

I’ve only experienced the tip of the presentation iceberg, I’m sure. To reiterate, I’m not against giving money as a gift at weddings, nor am I against couples discreetly letting it be known that if anyone is interested in what they want or need, it’s money. Most guests are hoping not to give the clichéd 4th toaster, and are glad for a little guidance coming from the right source. But for goodness’ sake, that source should not be the couple themselves, and it definitely should not the invitation.

What do you think? Is “presentation” evil or genius? Or both?