www.simoncollier.ca

I want to feel my roots (no, that’s not a euphemism). After moving to Canada I have felt like a static nomad. I’ve had no history here, no family stories or childhood memories to tie me to Edmonton. I don’t wander past a school and reminisce about walking through the gates that seemed so massive at the time and stepping gingerly through the classroom doors. I don’t walk past a building and recall how it was once all fields there, where I used to play as a child. I don’t walk past a hill and remember the time I sprained my ankle in a sledding accident when I was five. I miss the ghosts of me, they are abandoned elsewhere.

Recently a friend of mine toured me through a couple of the oldest rooms at the University of Alberta. They were beautiful. Large, tall rooms with intricate wood carvings and ceiling mouldings that defied gravity. Each of them had a fireplace, hidden storage areas in the walls and a feeling of nobility, of grandeur. When I stood in what was Dr Tory’s old office almost a century ago, I tried to imagine the room as it was depicted in the large painting on the wall. I imagined him sitting behind his desk, overlooking the rest of room. I peaked out of the window and pictured what he might have seen when he did the same. So many of the buildings I saw out of the window would have been missing, instead perhaps he could have seen the high-level bridge that was so recently constructed. I imagined the meetings he would have held in his office, perhaps in seats by the fireplace with a glass of port for he and his guest. I wondered how many people would have met in there, how many decisions had been made with donors, politicians and academics just feet from where I was standing. I enjoyed this. In the absence of my own ties to Edmonton I felt a stronger connection with the University, which has such deep roots in the city.

When my friend walked me through the old Arts building foyer she commented on the black and white checkered tiles. As a child she would play with her sister on them, each picking a colour that they would stand on as they navigated the game space. As we passed through I imagined the two children jumping from tile to tile and enjoyed the borrowed feeling of reminiscence and belonging. I felt envious of her memories while they made me smile.

Perhaps Edmonton will always just be “my current city of residence”, even if I stay here for the rest of my life. Over the past decade I have grown an understanding of the importance of personal history, which I always took for granted. I do hope my kids (one day) will feel that where they live is their home and I will do my best to make sure they have memories all around them, as my parents did for me.

Walking down the street an old man with a painted smile and a large ragged hat squirts water at strangers. People slow their pace behind him, or give him a wide berth as they pass, doing their best to avoid eye contact else they might have to engage him. He approaches unsuspecting pedestrians standing at the crosswalk waiting for their turn to cross, and honks his horn to startle them. Childrens’ eyes widen, some with wonder and others with fear, as parents guide their young ones behind them or hold them closer to their side, away from the old man with the unknown intensions.

I don’t know this man. But he scares me.

Not because he’s a clown, or because I don’t know where his water comes from, or because he could be a child predator. He scares me because I think he’s lonely and just wants attention.

He could be nothing more than a retiree who wants to bring cheer to peoples’ day. He could be a God, testing us. He could even be hired by the City to entertain.

But that would not entertain my fear of growing old alone, watching the people around me sharing smiles, adventures and secrets that I will never be a part of. Watching lovers embrace, children hold hands as they skip down the street and friends browsing the shop windows and discussing vacation plans, while I yearn to be a part of any of it, watching from behind an imagined glass wall.

It is the fear of being alone, isolated and unloved that makes my heart break every time I see the clown.

(For those interested, the clown’s name is Denny the Clown and he’s been performing on Whyte Ave for 36 years, according to The Edmonton Sun.)

This is uplifting. He went from this to this.

Adbusters posted an interesting blog citing evidence that fast food restaurants within 1/4 mile of a school significantly increases the average obesity rate of kids at that school.

I do wonder if the fast food stores are as much a symptom of a “poor diet area” as a cause, in the same way that Payday Loans, Adult Superstore and Liquor Store clusters are an indicator of a low-income neighbourhood (and I’m sure they contribute to the problem).

“Faith in God means believing absolutely in something with no proof whatsoever.
Faith in humanity means believing absolutely in something with a huge amount of proof to the contrary.”
- Joss Whedon, 10th April 2009

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTY8-XPhTzQ