Homes and Native Lands

As threatened promised, through this holiday season, I am reviving another previous post. Now that our days are growing longer once again, I thought we could revisit the summer of 2007 when the days were long, sunny and hot. I should have some new photos for your semi-soon. In the meantime, thanks for understanding the lull.


There's a lovely community park, complete with man-made lake, fishing dock, playground, picnic areas and mini water pad just fifteen minutes along the footpaths of my neighbourhood. The area has evolved to reflect the changing population over the past twenty years.

When I first moved to this region, the park contained a small amphitheatre where local talent entertained audiences on summer nights and weekends. As its popularity diminished, the area was transformed into a children's splash pad to accommodate the increasing number of young families who reside here. Ours is a multicultural community, which is evidenced by the variety of bright, kidlet faces encountered daily.

I've been walking and biking the paths of this park system for years. There are familiar faces that nod and greet me, and occasional characters who make a point of actually stopping to chat for a bit. Yesterday evening, my path crossed with another regular whom I hadn't yet seen this summer, so I joined him on the park bench to visit for a few moments. We discussed how the neighbourhood has grown, and he referred to the bustling park as having once been "this area's best kept secret." As we continued talking, it soon became apparent that he was displeased with the growth.

"There are so many new people in the area now." he said while nodding toward a dark-skinned jogger "The whole face of the city has changed."

I knew where he was heading and I hoped to redirect the conversation somewhat by saying that I thought change was usually a pretty good thing. He glanced at me and agreed that change can be positive as long as it wasn't forced upon us. His eyes locked with mine for a brief moment, and I vaguely detected a challenge. I regretted asking it as soon as the words left my mouth, but there was no retreating. "How so?"

He replied with "As long as they adapt, and do things the way we do them here, and not try to force their ways on us."

I should have let it go, but I had to persist. "Like what?"

"Well, you know. Like curry." He smiled and rolled his eyes at the same time.

Curry? This fellow expressed his concern for wayward cooking spices, while his cigarette smoke wafted over to me and settled in my hair. I smiled back at him, told him that I happened to like curry, and then abruptly changed the subject before continuing my walk.

I was born here, as were my parents, though none of my grandparents were native-born Canadians. As I see it, this made them immigrants, and they were probably subject to the criticism and complaints of locals who felt they had to endure the influx of the foreigners of their time. They came from Poland, Russia and England, and brought with them their beliefs, language, traditions and recipes. They adapted to Canadian customs while maintaining their own, and over time, we were enriched by how their cultures shaped ours. The fact that immigrants feel secure enough to practice their beliefs and celebrate their culture while embracing ours, is one of the many freedoms that should make us feel proud of Canada, not critical of it.

Sadly, there are people who see immigrant as synonymous with illegal, Muslim with terrorist, and visible minority with foreigner. Too often I hear feelings expressed that sadden me. In the wake of 911, we were constantly reminded to exercise tolerance. Although it was intended as open-minded and giving, I found the sentiment to be quite distressing. We don't want to go about our lives being tolerated. We all want to be respected, if not always because of our differences, at least in spite of them.

By virtue of a generation or three, today's immigrants are the same Canadians our ancestors were. In time, their children will be born into their citizenship as our parents were, and their grandchildren will have always felt they belong, just as we do. I hope that as they encounter the diverse, new faces and languages in the parks and city streets, it will enkindle both their sense of pride and belonging. As such, their lives and ours can only be enriched.

Throughout the summer, you can find animated groups assembled around these waterfront tables playing cards, chess, checkers and other games. These folks have gathered to play Mahjong.

This small dock is often packed with people and their fishing rods. It's a great spot for children to learn, newbies (like me) to practice and even experienced anglers to pass some time.

Around a distant bend, you can see just how many people had the same idea about wetting their lines that day.

On a scorching, hot day, the splash pad offers cool, wet fun for the kidlets.

Refreshing!

Catch it if you can!

A mom manages to stay dry while she keeps a watchful eye on her child.

Despite the lack of sand, these little girls brought toys for digging, packing and floating.

This mischievous, little cutie found a way to use her sand pail to help her friend cool off.

Water, water everywhere...