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When the Persian Gulf War erupted in the summer of 1990, I was nine-years-old and verging on my 10th birthday. Over those warm months out of school, I spent most of my days wandering my Oma and Opa’s farm barefoot under the sun instead of with friends. I’d spend hours in the garden and bird aviary with my Opa when I wasn’t indoors with my Oma. She suffered from Multiple Sclerosis and therefore was generally confined to sitting on the sundeck or watching TV.

Though I was far too young to appreciate soap operas (and I still don’t), my Oma loved them and I was more than happy to keep her company on those afternoons. On August 2, 1990, Iraqi troops invaded Kuwait and before long, my Oma’s beloved soap operas were endlessly pre-empted for Persian Gulf War news coverage. Every image that my nine-year-old eyes laid sight on was of sand and tanks and military figures and Saddam, Saddam, Saddam. I was frustrated and childishly upset that we couldn’t watch our shows together all due to a “stupid war.”

The Persian Gulf War ended some months later, and some years after that I entered junior high en route to high school. There I took classes in social studies, history and comparative civilizations. Were I to enroll in these courses today, I would no doubt find them interesting while also understanding the relevance behind the events. In seventh grade, however, all my classmates and I could do was roll our eyes and question why we had to learn about something that seemed to hold no significance to a group of young teenagers.

Flash forward to November, 2008: I am now only weeks away from my 28th birthday and my world view is also that much older. The bombs dropped on Hiroshima, Japan decades before I was born. The Vietnam War broke out when my mom was just a teenager. I was only eight when the Berlin Wall crumbled and just 20 the day the towers collapsed in Manhattan. I am 27 and last night witnessed a country stand up for change and overwhelmingly elect Barack Obama as their next President.

The significant events in history are equally important to the events that happen in this world every single day. They are directly impactful on the life I live today. I live in a country where I can walk down the sidewalk and wear the clothes that I choose, believe in the faith that I choose, vote for the policiticians that I choose and make the choices that I want. That kind of freedom does not come without considerable cost.

Yesterday morning, as I went for my daily Americano as I normally do, there was a man on the corner of Hornby and Robson streets dressed in military fatigue, handing out poppies for Remembrance Day. He was quite old and I would venture to guess that he fought with Canada during World War II. He smiled warmly at me as I placed money in his collection box before allowing him to pin a poppy to my lapel. I looked down at his frail hands as they proudly placed the deep red flower over my heart. As his eyes then met my own, I considered all the things he has probably seen in his lifetime. It was all that I could do to blink back the tears that so desperately wanted to fall in gratitude.

History is not the stuff that text books are made of, nor is it comprised of a number of events that happened long before our time as individuals. History is happening on each corner of this planet, every single day. Last night, hot tears streamed down my face as the future President of the United States stressed the importance of United States, no matter a person’s income, sexual orientation, skin colour or belief. He spoke of hope and of peace while offering realistic optimism. As President-Elect Barack Obama so eloquently stated, “this victory alone is not the change we seek - it is only the chance for us to make that change.” [Source]

Like countless others across my country, across the United States and all over the globe, I woke this morning with a renewed sense of hope. I am a part of what will soon be known as history that has helped shape this world - my world - and the world that my children will some day live within. I can’t help but feel as though we as united people are about to experience the current of our river flow in a new direction as we all venture forward with both vigilance and great anticipation.

“What would the world be like
If, for every rose given
Another would be received?”

[source]

For close to three years, I have worked in the same office tower in downtown Vancouver. It’s about 22 levels of law firms, investment offices and other well oiled money-making machines. On the bottom floor there are two cafes, a travel agent, a florist and, among other things, a convenience store. This convenience store, however, is unlike any other I’ve ever been in for the simple fact that it’s owned and run by two of the truly most astounding people I’ve come to know in this city.

Photo: Humpalumpa on Flickr

Nikki and her husband Raul (who I’ve affectionately come to call ‘Uncle Raul’) are often the respite in the long days I haul at the office. Usually once a day I’ll slip downstairs to buy a scratch ticket, a mini candy bar or a Diet Pepsi. My real reason for the visits, however, is simply to engage in warm conversation - even if only for a minute or two. Today was much like every other day, except in that by the time I was done having my chat with ‘Uncle Raul,’ I realized I’d been absent from my desk for 40 minutes.

As I’ve said before, a father is an irreplaceable person in a young girl’s life, but there are many men in a lifetime that wear the shoes in an instance or two. ‘Uncle Raul’ has always told me that I can come to him and Nikki to talk, share, seek advice and listen. And believe me, to say that ‘Uncle Raul’ loves to talk would be grossly understating the truth. It’s a good thing, too, because the man has a lot of wise and well-learned truths to share.

Today we spoke of loving others and sharing humanity. How the subject even came up in the first place, I’m not entirely sure.

Photo: ~Aphrodite on Flickr

Sometimes, and even often times, we will encounter people in our daily lives that impact us in a decidedly negative way. They drain us of our energies and our inside light, and sometimes through no intended way. Something as simple as a misconstrued e-mail or disconcerting glance can have a crushing effect. Sometimes it’s people we know; sometimes it’s a complete stranger.

It is because of this very reason that it is absolutely both essential and crucial that we as human beings put forth an extra ounce of ourselves to show compassion; to show a spirit of humanity. And before we can gain the ability to show love and kindness to those we know and don’t know, we as individuals need to show love and kindness to our own selves.

What is important in the big picture is holding on to the truths that we know, rather than the often irrational thoughts and ideas that ping around in our heads like marbles. While those marbles are likely to roll away once they’ve been exhausted, what we ultimately know is what’s left behind. Through this, we can instead create and hold on to an awareness of who we truly are on the inside. By this, I don’t simply mean our personalities, but the fact that there is constantly a battle brewing between our sensible, logical selves and our egocentric selves.

Photo: hidden side on Flickr

What do I mean by this? There is an insatiable, irresistible and voracious trait in each of us that wants our circumstances to change, to move the hands on the clock to 5:00 p.m. when we’ve just started work, to part the traffic so we won’t be sitting in a highway jam for an hour, for that phone to ring, for payday to come, for our holidays to start…

None of that matters. Right now, I am sitting in my pajamas in a wooden chair, clicking my fingertips on a keyboard and sharing with you the lesson I’ve learned today. That is the only thing that matters right now - this instant.

Right now, you are sitting at your computer and reading what I just wrote. Beyond that, take stock of the very moment you’re in. Realize it for what it is, have patience with yourself, accept the current circumstance of this very minute and be okay with it.

Love yourself wholly, and the ability to love others will come that much easier.

Anyone who is truly from Vancouver Island can affirm how painful an endeavour it can be to return to Vancouver after time spent at home. After six near magical days on la isla bonita, I have returned to the city in which I reside, but it will never truly be home. Yesterday marked my four year anniversary in the city, living in the same apartment on the same street. My dwelling is the only thing that’s remained constant in my time here. The faces and experiences that have come and gone in these years are more than I can count.

Photo: tempest_kat on Flickr

I find myself becoming more and more cynical towards this place, its people, the events and the general attitude. Why that is, I’m not sure. The bitterness, however, is starting to take its toll on me and it’s really quite pointless. I think that the time is right for a shift in thinking.

Photo: I am I.A.M. on Flickr

When I was a little girl, my giddiness and anticipation for family trips to Vancouver was uncontainable. It was, in fact, somewhat amusing to my parents. The first major trip I can recall was to Expo ’86 at the ripe age of 5 and on the verge of beginning kindergarten. It was a quick whirlwind mini vacay, but I still have a vivid memory dotted with fireworks, the monorail, Expo Ernie, glittering high-rises and a kaleidoscope of colour.

Once I entered my mid-teens, with my coming of age came a fresh dose of independence. At 16, I was allowed to take my first trip across the Georgia Straight with a friend. Our plan was to hit the all ages Spacehog/Everclear double bill at the Vogue, but upon its subsequent cancellation, Nadia and I found ourselves at the historic Capitol 6 on Granville to see Trainspotting. (My parents saw the film once it was released on video and were rather adamant that, had they known what it was about, I never would have been allowed to see it at the time.)

Long before I actually made the move to Vancouver, I dreamed about the day when I’d finally live sky high in one of those concrete towers I’d so admired as a child. When I was younger, the city and its ideals held enchantment for me. On every ferry ride over, I’d sit at the front of the passenger lounge, skip ahead to Underworld’s “Born Slippy” on my Sony Discman and watch the distant city skyline as the ship pulled nearer to Horseshoe Bay. The anticipation I felt in my belly was intoxicating, and the excitement that struck me at 5 still held strongly at 16 and beyond.

Now that I have spent the better part of half a decade (yikes!) living in downtown Vancouver, the anticipation has dissipated, the magic has faded and the glitter of gleaming towers has grown dull. As I learn more about the world in which I live, the people with which I interact and the true state of humanity, my disillusions of city living have been nearly entirely wiped out.

What I have realized as of late, however, is that focusing on these shortcomings and pitfalls of the city are a wasted effort.

Instead of lamenting how disheartened I am to be back amongst the noise, pollution, yelling, smells and traffic of downtown Vancouver, perhaps it would be more helpful and make more sense to consider the ways in which living in Vancouver has fulfilled me and instead enriched the person that I am.

It is time to make an attempt at re-capturing the beauty I once saw here with innocent eyes.

Thank you, Vancouver, for being home to some truly amazing people that I am blessed to call my friends.

Thank you, Vancouver, for being the backdrop of experiences that have taught me invaluable lessons in life and love.

Though my square, concrete balcony in the West End can’t compare to the lush, green gardens at my true Merville home on the Island, it boasts a killer view that – both literally and figuratively – gives me a much needed perspective on a different side of our world. Vancouver Island will always be home, but I suppose this place isn’t as bad as I try to make it out to be.

Photo: Incognitocanuck on Flickr

P.S. High five to anyone who “gets” the post title.

In 1787, the first explorers came ashore at what is now known as Tofino. The site was named as such in 1792 by Spanish Captains Galiano and Valdez, but European settlers didn’t make their way to the area until somewhere in the middle of the 19th Century [source]. Fast forward 100 years to the decade that brought you A Clockwork Orange, disco music and the echo of the sexual revolution. Tofino was mostly populated by long-time locals and descendents of many of the community’s earliest families. The shores were dotted with lovingly-built beach shacks. It was a sustainable and affordable community. Care to take a slice of the pie in today’s market?

Photo: Chesterman Beach Realty

“This beautifully maintained 2 bedroom beachside rancher is situated on a forested, private .4 acre property across the road from spectacular Chesterman Beach in Tofino. Features include wood flooring throughout, Regency wood burning stove, large private 480 sq. ft. cedar deck, detached double garage and easy beach access. [With a square footage of 1,092] this home is ideal for a small family or as a vacation cottage. Furnishings and art are included in purchase price.”

It can be all yours for only $721,000.

Keep in mind that this is only what’s considered to be a small family home. Beaches that were once home to generations of true locals are now peppered with palatial mansions of the wealthy and affluent. Being that the Island has become a much sought-after and desirable place to live, it’s no surprise that Tofino is one of the top spots for those with cash. What’s most unfortunate about this is that the new developments have kicked long-time residents to the curb – literally. Sky-high prices have in turn caused property values and taxes to also skyrocket, making “home” no longer an affordable place to live for so many.

Tofino is only one drop in the bucket of Vancouver Island’s communities. Due to the Island’s diverse economy, different areas of the island are driven by numerous resources. Forestry is no doubt British Columbia’s largest industry, as is the case with Vancouver Island. It’s a vital source for so many of the Island’s residents, followed closely by tourism and fishing. In addition, recent years have seen vast expansions in the areas of wine-production, information technology and a growth in post-secondary educational institutions. All of these combined with the Island’s natural beauty has transformed it into a mecca for the masses. In fact, the Island’s overall population swelled by 34% between 1981 and 2001 [source].

Photo: palestrina55 on Flickr

Given the growth trends over the last two and a half decades, it seems like recession is a thing of the past for all points between Port Hardy and Oak Bay. Stephen Rowe, economics major at the University of Victoria, points to some possible reasons: “If you look at B.C.’s economy in general and then what exactly attracts people to the Island, I can’t really see it going anywhere but up,” adding that the attractions are endless. “The lifestyle, climate, town size and retirement.”

I am personally no stranger to how the face of the Island has changed. I had been raised in the Comox Valley from the time I was two-years-old. When I was little, the house I grew up in had one house behind it, and behind that, more forest than my child’s mind could imagine. Today that forest is just another sea of boxed houses wound around countless cul-de-sacs. Being that British Columbia’s population has come close to doubling over the past 25 years [source], it should come as no surprise that the population of the Valley has since risen to more than 62,000 residents in the same time period [source].

Gone is the day when Saturday’s big shopping trip comprised of a stop at Zellers before returning home again. Now “The Big Z” has been overshadowed by no less than Wal-Mart, The Home Depot, London Drugs, Winners and Future Shop to name a few. What was once the small town I grew up in has since become the first few glimmers of a fledgling city. There are so many new neighbourhoods that have sprung up over the last decade that I can no longer confidently navigate my way through all parts of the Valley. To do so would undoubtedly disorient me.

Photo: bchow on Flickr

The old saying dictates that there are two sides to every coin, so when examining the gentrification of Vancouver Island, one will be forced to choose a side in the battle of growth versus recession. While it’s true that property taxes are being forced upwards, big box stores are growing like weeds and small towns are being transformed into cities, a growing population and a booming wealth of resources are driving forces at the forefront. This economic growth is creating the need for more jobs and thus more housing. And while in a perfect world, it would be ideal to drive outsiders out and back into the mainland metropolis to preserve the resources we have, most locales across the Island desperately rely on the financial influx of tourism dollars to sustain themselves.

Surely government-imposed regulations would allow for tighter controls on the thickening population and depletion of the Island’s assets that are most certainly not going to last forever. So what’s the answer then? Do we really want to see a cap on growth, and if so, is that even a possibility?

Hundreds of years ago when the earliest explorers first discovered Vancouver Island, I doubt they could have imagined Vancouver Island as it stands in 2008. Then again, as a little girl, neither could I.