Just a little plug for one of the events happening in Neepawa during Manitoba Homecoming 2010.

On Thursday May 13, there will be two presentations of Of Songs and Battles (“De chants et de batailles”), a fascinating look at the history of Francophone community in Manitoba, produced by the CJP.  I had the pleasure of seeing this reading (accompanied by live music from Kin) last year at the CUSB and left the event feeling proud, inspired, angry, and in awe of the tireless efforts of francophones in this province.

Are you planning on going to the world’s largest social (at any of the 63 satellite locations), or any other events during the 4-day blitz in Neepawa? Let me know how it goes!

…but hearing that Manitoba may soon go to 10-digit dialing makes me a bit sad. Apparently, Manitoba will get a new area code (probably 431) and you’ll have to dial an area code before any local numbers sometime in 2012.

I’d gotten used to 10-digit dialing in Vancouver – I didn’t really question it, as there are so many people, and therefore phones, in the Lower Mainland that it only made sense. But when I was growing up in southern Alberta, it had always been 7-digit dialing. It was a huge deal when they added a second area code for northern Alberta, but it wasn’t hard to get used to, either. Then, on a recent trip home, I couldn’t figure out why my local calls weren’t going through. “You have to dial 403,” my mum told me. And so Alberta had gone 10-digit, too.

Lots of people speak wistfully about the good old days of party lines or when everyone had the same first three digits, so that when someone gave you their phone number, you only had to remember the last four. In the same quasi-nostalgic way, I guess I’d always thought it was quaint, or charming, or something, that here in little old Winnipeg, we don’t have to dial an area code. But now it looks like those days are coming to an end.

It’s a seemingly trivial thing, I know. Anyone else a bit verklempt over this, too?

Among all the lovely scenes in Carol Shields’ novel The Republic of Love, one of my favourites is where the female protagonist, Fay, describes what a small world it is when you live in this city:

“The population of Winnipeg is six hundred thousand, a fairly large city, with people who tend to stay put. Families overlap with families, neighborhoods with neighborhoods. You can’t escape it. Generations interweave so that your mother’s friends … formed sort of a squadron of secondary aunts. You were always running into someone you’d gone to school with or someone whose uncle worked with someone else’s father. The tentacles of connection were long, complex, and full of bitter or amusing ironies that characterize blood families. …

Some days, she can wait anonymously in the bus shelter at River and Osborne and speak to no one, and the next day she’ll run into any number of acquaintances. These surprises used to drive Peter crazy, the oppressive clannishness they implied and the embarrassments, but Fay again and again is reassured and comforted to be a part of a knowable network.”

This very passage is one I read ten years ago and decided that Winnipeg was a place I’d like very much live. And although when I moved here I had only one close friend in the city, I had behind me many generations of Manitobans: a vast array of aunts, uncles, cousins and a couple surviving grandparents.  Once I started dating my future husband, Michel, there would be many more opportunities for our families’ stories to intersect. The connections started presenting themselves at a somewhat alarmingly frequent rate.  For instance, we discovered that my sister-in-law’s brother had taught my cousins at Collège Jeanne-Sauvé. It also turned out those same cousins had once visited Michel’s family farm on a school field trip, and indeed eaten a meal with his parents! Another two sets of crossed paths are detailed in Aaron’s post “All Roads Lead to Portage and Main“.

Although a little less tangible, perhaps my favourite Winnipeg coincidence involves my late  maternal grandfather, who owned a successful Winnipeg dance school back in the day. When I happened to mention his name to Michel, he couldn’t believe it — he’d grown up seeing commercials for his dance studio on TV. In fact, he said, he was sure he’d written about Ken Mathews in a short story in school. A few weeks later, we happened to be cleaning his apartment and amazingly, came across the story he’d written some fifteen years earlier. And sure enough, he described his protagonist as being able to “play hockey like Wayne Gretzky, play tennis like Pete Sampras, and dance like Ken Mathews.” I found it incredibly endearing. (More recently, he found out that one of my uncles used to play for the Jets, and pronounced that he didn’t know he’d married “Winnipeg Royalty”. Ha!)

I’ve never really been able to explain why I felt that Winnipeg was home. I don’t know what it was that made me think this city — a city that I had no real adult experience with — was where I was meant to be. The prairies part was easy enough to figure out – I grew up on them, and had been away too long, I guess. But as for the city itself? My parents had met and married here, my brothers were born here, but neither of those facts really have much to do with me. Or do they? Maybe it was the fact that every major roadtrip my family took when I was growing up was to Manitoba.  Maybe it was the constant backdrop of Winnipeg references: the house on Lenore, or Marshall Crescent. The Christmas tree at King’s Drive. Or my personal favourite: The Fort Richmond Zellers cafeteria, where, in the 70s, my mum and her best friend would smoke cigarettes and get French fries for the kids.

But it worked out. All these funny coincidences, these random connections, they seem to serve as some sort of proof that I was here even when I wasn’t here. And I like that feeling a lot. Perhaps it’s as simple as what Carol Shields wrote: geography is destiny.  In The Republic of Love, when Fay and Tom finally meet, they realise there’s actually an intricate web of connections between them. That’s how I think of my life here: not just because of the connections my husband and I had before we knew each other, but because how else explain my decision to move here?

Anyway, what got me to thinking about all this was was Kyla Roma’s recent post, “Moments from a Prairie Winter“. Kyla writes:

“I know why people choose to leave here, because you don’t get a big city life. You don’t have hundreds of clubs to choose from, the big artists don’t come through, and the big stores tend to pass us by. You don’t have the mountains of Vancouver or the city chic of Toronto. And it can be claustrophobic. Live here for a while, and when you talk to almost anyone long enough you will find a connection to them through ex-employers, friends, hockey teams, or distant aunts and uncles. Sometimes that can be hard, and people want to define themselves without having to run into their entire graduating class when they’re grocery shopping.

But the wonderful thing is that if you choose to stay, you can be known. You can run into friends everywhere and meet people easily. You can take the time that you are sealed in under sheets of ice to get your passions off the ground and into flight. You can go to underground shows, and know who’s who. You can line dry your clothes and have raspberry bushes in the middle of the city.”

I think this is the blessing and the curse of Winnipeg. I didn’t go to school here, so there’s no risk of me running into my entire graduating class while I’m grocery shopping. In fact, the very idea of that is probably what motivated me to leave my hometown eight years ago.  Now, bumping into someone I know is a pleasure, a small reminder of this little big city and my place within it. No matter how I wound up here, I’m glad I did.

Inspired by Greg G’s recent blog post, I thought I’d share my own list of dream Winnipeg-related Jeopardy categories. (This meme comes from Douglas Coupland’s excellent novel, Microserfs, which is probably one of my all-time faves.) I’m still a relative newcomer to the city, but here are a few categories I’m pretty sure I could ace:

• Size and Locality of Potholes on the Disraeli Bridge and Overpass, circa March
• Common Typographical Errors by Commenters on the Winnipeg Free Press Website
• Odds of Vegetarian Entree Availability at Catered Events
• Winnipeg Wrap Form & Function

Aaaaaand a few I’m sure I would fail miserably at:

• Underground Navigation of Portage & Main
• Social Music 101
• Minnesota/North Dakota peasant-vision ads of the 80s

Okay, so I know they’re not standard Jeopardy-type categories, but I had fun coming up with them.

What are your dream (or dreaded) Winnipeg-related Jeopardy categories?

In the midst of Boulevard, the big kick off for Festival du Voyageur 2010, I found myself thinking about what life must be like right now in my old city, Vancouver. Since I moved here a year and a half ago, I’ve often thought of the friends and colleagues I had there, but I never really thought too much about how the city was doing, aside, of course, from being glad I wasn’t there for the chaos I was sure the Olympics would bring. Last night, that changed a little bit.

Decked out with our macarons and our voyageur sashes (I couldn’t find my prized Clou’Donc glove in time), we had enjoyed the live music on Provencher, checked out this year’s Festival merch (the beard t-shirts? awesome!), had a little pea soup, and taken in the fireworks (I’d never seen fireworks in the winter before – pretty neat!). Counting dogs wearing clothes along the way (Vancouver doesn’t have a total monopoly on that!) we made our way down to Garage Cafe, where we planned to catch the Johnny Cajun show. Alas, we were way too late: the place was packed and the chances of us getting a table were nil.

As we stood there, mulling over our options, our eyes were drawn to the TV tuned to the broadcast of the 2010 Games opening ceremonies. Laurel and I were oddly captivated. From there, headed to the Parc du Voyageur to check out the Snow Sports Bar, where we knew they’d be playing the ceremonies, too. The Parc was buzzing with excitement and good music rose into the night. Sure enough, the outdoor snow bar had a massive screen set up, and lots of people were watching intently or not-so-intently. Ice cups of caribou were everywhere. (We were all abstaining, for one reason or another, so no caribou or Fort Gibraltar lager for us… boo!)

After having explored all the tents and checked out some of this year’s snow sculptures, we realised we were tired and decided to head back home and see if we could catch the end of the opening ceremonies. Back home with our boots and mitts off, we caught the last hour or so of the ceremonies. Watching the elaborate and impressive show, I felt both proud and disconcerted, in a way. Proud to be Canadian, proud to have once called the host city home. Proud of our musical and literary talents and our sporting heros. Proud that Canada had the opportunity to wow the world, and didn’t fail!

But also disconcerted: the amount of money that must have been spent on this one event is staggering — with the nation’s poorest postal code just blocks away, and the devastation in Haiti still fresh in our minds, one can’t help but think of what that money could be better spent on.  And after a celebration of Canada’s diverse culture, it was hard not to notice that the Olympic flagbearers and torchlighters were all caucasian. Seeing footage of Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili’s fatal accident on the news afterwards had me feeling solemn and uneasy as  I headed to bed.

Watching Gretzky travel down the streets of my old stomping ground, memories of my five years in Vancouver rushed back. For as much grumbling as locals had been doing ever since the host city was announced in July 2003, just months after I’d made the city home, it must have been an amazing night for everyone who found themselves on the streets of downtown Vancouver. Earlier this week I’d received an email from my old boss, who said that the office was really getting into the spirit of things, with theme days, prizes, and flexible work schedules to accommodate everyone. From her window, she said, she could see the zipline that had been installed over Robson Square, and they were having fun watching the aerial view of organizers testing it out. It seems that despite everyone’s worst-case thinking, the Games had actually arrived, and everything was actually pretty cool.

Something I thought would never happen, happened: I found myself thinking, “It wouldn’t be so bad to be there right now.” But I was also thinking how if I were there, I wouldn’t be here, in Winnipeg. This city that throws a half-outdoor party in the middle of winter, that celebrates the snow and cold with music and food and fun and games. And it throws this party every year!

The world’s biggest party is in Vancouver and British Columbia right now, and I’m glad I can tune in to the coverage every now and then (a Winnipegger’s gotta watch her curling!). But I wouldn’t miss the party happening in my own backyard for the world.

Okay, so it’s a cheap ripoff of “Love Me, Love My Winnipeg”, but I hope it got your attention, because this is a really important topic.

Some of you may know that when I’m not blogging about Winnipeg, I run the library at a law firm. I’ve been working in the library field since 2003, and I love my job! Even though I work in the private sector, I still feel pretty passionately about supporting other types of libraries, especially public and school libraries.

A few weeks ago, library CUPE Local 500 members took to the streets outside the Millennium Branch of the Winnipeg Public Library, handing out information about their Positively Public campaign and  trying to raise awareness about cuts to library funding. I got one of these pamphlets and have been thinking about it ever since. I had just started to formulate this post when I got an email from a blog reader on the same topic. This is an issue on many citizens’ minds.

If you care about the Winnipeg Public Library, you should let your city councillor know that you’re opposed to budget cuts that will  reduce staffing  and funding to our valuable community institution. The City of Winnipeg’s Adopted Operating Budget 2009 shows that jobs have been (and will continue to be) eliminated and overall library funding will be cut (see pp.108-109). Plus, they’re talking about outsourcing (privatizing) the cataloguing department.

This is despite steadily rising visits to the library (both in-person and to the library’s website), increasing numbers of library card holders, increasing computer bookings and use of online databases. It makes no sense to me.

I really believe that people use the library more and less at different times of their lives. Many talk about library use going up during times of economic difficulty, but I think it’s more than that. To give just one example: a young professional with tons of disposable income may not think of going to the library all that often. But a few years down the road when that young professional is now a young parent, the library with its endless supply of kids’ books and CDs and free, quality programming starts to look a little more appealing. Even if libraries don’t seem that important to you just now, I guarantee that you will be grateful for them at some point down the road. Your neighbours will be, too.

Libraries aren’t just about books – far from it. They are community institutions that promote literacy, provide access to information, offer cultural and entertainment activities, support newcomers, students, and job-seekers, provide resources in alternate formats for people with disabilities… the list is endless. Every cut to library funding takes away from what services WPL can offer. We’re not just talking about fewer book acquisitions, we’re talking short staffing, longer waits for service, and fewer programs.

So, the best thing you can do is let your city councillor know that you want to see increases, not decreases, to the WPL’s staffing and overall funding. The best people to run a community institution are the library that live in the community, so be sure also let your feelings about outsourcing be known. A recent article in the Globe & Mail explained how to get a politician’s attention (tip: a personal e-mail is often the best way). And, oh yeah, keep using your library! (I’m off to email my councillor.)

Over at The World According to Ace, Ace Burpee posted about the massive success of the Hot 103 “I Heart Haiti” t-shirt campaign:  ”It’s not out of the question to think that we may have created a $100,000 charity t–shirt. Keep it going. We’re on board. This is a great town.”

Very cool, and also not surprising. In December ’09, the Fraser Institute’s Generosity Index ranked Manitoba as the most generous province in Canada — for the 10th year in a row! Makes me proud to call this province home.

For information on legit organizations to donate in support of disaster relief in Haiti, including ways to text donations, visit www.cbc.ca/haitirelief/.

I’ve just read an interesting piece that explores the myth of Winnipeg, particularly as it relates to Winnipeg’s arts scene. While I found the author’s observations on how much Winnipeggers like to talk about Winnipeg and how in Toronto you can go to a carefully curated “Winnipeg Social” to be entertaining, the article also explores more serious topics, such as how under-represented and overlooked the city’s aboriginal arts community is, and how that fits into Winnipeg’s white mythology.

I’d never heard of Manitoba-based Canadian Dimension magazine until I stumbled across this article, and I see that the entire current issue is devoted to Winnipeg. I’m off to read the other articles (about the North End and the city’s radical past) now!

Read Ed Janzen’s The Power of Myth: How Winnipeg and Its Art Became Such a Big Deal at Canadian Dimension magazine.

A huge congratulations to the High Tea Bakery here in the ‘Peg. It seems their scrumptious imperial cookies will be featured at a couple of pre-Golden Globe events.  The WoMH gang tried these delicious cookies last summer and was mightily impressed. You can be sure we’ll swing by again on our quest to find Winnipeg’s best imperial cookie next month.  Way to go, High Tea Bakery!

–via ChrisD.ca

It’s been a pretty amazing year for me here in the ‘Peg. This blog has turned out to be one of the neatest things I’ve done in a long time. And while I’ve lost my two fellow bloggers (Laurel moved to be closer to her family in August, and Aaron recently took a job out of province), it’s my goal to keep the blog going here for the foreseeable future. Anyone interested in guest posting?

Anyway, since the end of the year is the perfect time for lists, and in particular, lists of resolutions, I decided to put some thought into what I’d like to do in 2010 here in my adopted hometown.

• Try the hot chocolate at Constance Popp Chocolatiers… I’m told it’s spectacular!
• Go skating on the world’s longest naturally-frozen skating trail, a.k.a. The River Trail.
• Go to Grand Beach, apparently one of the best beaches in the world!
• Do Part 2 of the search for Winnipeg’s Best Imperial Cookie with Laurel when she visits in February during Festival du Voyageur
• Go to the Farmer’s Market more often
• Start backyard composting
• Explore the Exchange District
• Go to more concerts (looking forward to 2010: The Concert this weekend!)
• Patronize local businesses more often. Some recent neighbourhood discoveries include Sam’s Place and Sonya’s Family Restaurant (see an awesome write-up of Sonya’s at Breakfast in Winnipeg). The closure of McNally Robinson is yet another reminder to shop locally if local businesses matters to you! I’m going to try to make more of an effort this year to do that.
• Find a family doctor, dentist, and massage therapist – this one may prove the hardest. I found an optometrist close to my house who I really like, but my current doctor’s office is a 25-minute drive away and not really doing it for me. I have yet to find a dentist though I’ve got some leads. An RMT would be great, too! Any recommendations for these health professionals in East Kildonan?

Off the top of my head, those are just a few of the things I’d like to do over the next year. With any luck I’ll accomplish most of them and remember to report back this time next year. I’d love to hear others’ Winnipeg-related resolutions for 2010… please share in the comments!

With the year almost through, I want to give big props to my fellow Winnipeg bloggers — thanks for all the great reads this year.  To everyone who’s commented at Winnipeg O’ My Heart, I appreciate your thoughts, suggestions, and ideas. You’ve all provided an excellent orientation to this fine city.  I wish you all a happy, healthy, and prosperous 2010!