My Changing Neighbourhood

As a young girl living east of Calgary in the 1970’s, I was delighted when the city started expanding our way. New communities rose up and a brand new mall was built. It made our foray into the Urban shopping easier and quicker. And yet that wasn’t where we settled when we moved to the big city. My neighbourhood is a tiny gem that was initially farmland annexed into the city in 1910. A few homes were built here and there but it wasn’t until 1962 when the first “suburb” was developed. Mainly smaller single family bungalows. There is a valley separating the community from the City. My father went to school on the other side of this valley when he was young and that school is still there. He says the valley was used as the city dump way back when. In the early 1970’s construction was started on a main route leading North to South through the city. It runs through the valley. In the city it is called Deerfoot trail, named for a young long distance runner from the Siksika Nation. This freeway grew with the city and links the north and south sections of the Queen Elizabeth II highway that runs from the American border to the northern City of Grande Prairie. It is around 1300 km or 800 miles in length. The north border of my community is the Trans Canada highway which runs from Victoria on the Pacific Ocean all the way through nine provinces to Saint Johns on the Atlantic. It is 7500 km with a couple of ferry rides. So when I drive to see my friends in Victoria, I drive 11 blocks north, turn left and keep going. The south and east borders of the community are major routes, so we are just this little tiny boxed in area that most people don’t even know exists.

Fourty years ago it was a popular community for young people moving from my small town. It was an easy exit for us to get back to Mom and Dad as well as friends. The surprise arrival of my daughter had me change plans on post secondary. Going to University in Edmonton was no longer an option. Driving to the west side of the city was a bit much when I lived thirty miles east of the city. And so, we took up residence in the foster community of my hometown peeps. The tiny two bedroom apartment was perfect for our little family and we loved the community. It took quite a few years for us to save for a home but that was my fault. I wouldn’t leave the community and it was pricier because of location. But after the second daughter was born there was just no room for all of us. And yet after five years we belonged. My oldest was in a local school, we were close to downtown so our drive to work was short, and we were still only thirty minutes from both of our parents. We bought a house I didn’t like or want, but it was a house. And I was so glad for the room.

Recently, I popped out to run a few errands. I got the mail and then hit the drugstore and was off to Costco to grab a few things. When I got home, I couldn’t find my house keys. And so started the backtracking. First stop, the mailbox. Nothing on the ground but there taped to my box was a message. The house number of the people who found my keys. Now, the boxes only have numbers, not house numbers so when I went to the door, my neighbour laughed and said “I should have known it was you”. Apparently I had left the keys in the lock with the door wide open. To be fair I was distracted by another neighbour with his grandson who had a very long story to tell me. The grandson, not the neighbour. And yet both neighbours asked how I was as they had heard through the grapevine I had been in an accident. Now I live in a city with 1.6 million people. But this small community of 6,000 people is just a small town. But with incredible conveniences minutes away. When people say they hate coming to the city, I know it’s because they don’t understand. Sure there is more traffic, but we all know when not to hit the roads. We also know the short cuts. We stick to our corner for the most part. We become territorial. Which quadrant are you from? It is funny though. Kensington was a rundown area when I was a teen. I wasn’t allowed to go there with friends but there was this incredible record store there. Hot Wax records. That community is now completely out of my price range. But the record store is still there.

Things evolve. Communities change. They are new, then perhaps in time people outgrow the homes. Then the community gets a little rundown until finally new people come in and scoop up cheap property and the area rises to unattainable status through gentrification. My community never really went through the same process. The area was actually fairly well planned out. As well as being located along four major routes, there was also something for everyone. Schools were built as the community grew but by the time my kids started school in 1985, the population had aged and two of the three Elementary schools were changed in order to fill them to capacity. One became a fine arts elementary and the one my children attended became a French Immersion School. Now the Catholic School has become a Chartered School as the Catholic population has aged. We have a multitude of parks and playgrounds. There are tennis courts and ball diamonds. In the winter volunteers flood and care for outdoor skating rinks. There are four altogether. There is an indoor pool and exercise facility in the next neighbourhood. A long walk but a very short 5 minute drive.

The local Safeway closed down years ago as a new mega store was built a couple of miles away. Surrounding itself with other big box stores. A few young men came in and started a Family Foods which is still thriving today. I am grateful to those guys. The Safeway was an anchor in the strip mall and without it the other businesses would have struggled. The shops have changed over the last 40 years. The movie rental store is now 3 shops. Liquor store, Subway and dollar store. The bakery closed and now houses a Vietnamese restaurant. There used to be two banks but those are now a marijuana shop, a Medical clinic and a physiotherapy clinic. The only things that remain unchanged are the barber, hair salon, drugstore, gas station and 7-11. This is the equivalent of a small town main street. Our downtown. Where you meet people and stop and chat. Like Joe. We met the other day leaving the drugstore and he brought me up to date on his wife, who was ill. Told me to drop by the store for a tea and made sure I knew his hours. A brilliant entrepreneur who saw the dying move rental market and opened the subway and liquor store. He is part of the changing face. A Sikh from India, he has educated me so much on his homeland and its rich and often tragic history.

I have walked the streets of Mayland for 40 years. I have seen it through the eyes of a young Mom. The daycare is still there although the ownership has changed. I walked with my twin grandsons last week and we explored their Moms life. They have a slurpee store. Mommy had a slurpee store. Look. Mommies school. I remember years of my kid saying “Look. Grandpa’s school” as we drove past the school my Dad attended just across the valley. The old apartment building where we lived until there were two kids. It is all condo’s now. I think if my old apartment ever came up for sale I would buy it. My friends parents had a house down by the catholic church. If my hubby was gone too long while out for a run, I knew where he was. Having a glass of wine with Adam and Ciara. Their Italian accents so heavy I just smiled a lot since I couldn’t understand a word. Our first and only house together as a married couple. The starter home that we never left. Always changing to accommodate the growing family. And now it is actually a little big for just me. Every street, building, park, there are memories. Children growing up and us growing old. We navigated the teen years and earl adulthood. There were sports and music lessons. Driving around the city was like driving to different towns. And now today, my grandkids play in the same hockey rinks my kids played in. I drive through the neighbourhoods where my kids went to Junior High and high school. Old houses are demolished and new in fill homes are put up. But my neighbourhood is the same. Big lots. Tiny homes. Everything we need. So houses sell and new owners renovate. But the homes remain. Some just look a little better. There is comfort in that.

It is an interesting place. We have low income housing, a lot of apartment rentals all mixed in with single family homes as well a ton of duplexes. As a result there is a largely diverse population. Th biggest change in the last 42 years is the people of colour. As years go by my little community has become a noticeably colourful mosaic of residents as well as a very diverse population regarding religious backgrounds. My friend Joe is a Sikh. The medical centre has more women doctors than men. The grocery store was purchased by an Arab family and my favourite cashier is a lovely Muslim woman who dresses in very traditional modest clothing. I don’t know the name of the Vietnamese restaurant because we call it Andy’s. Andy started it 15 years ago and recently sold it to his sister. But it is still Andy’s. The fellow who bought the drugstore is Asian and employs many middle eastern people. But there is a gal there who I first met almost 40 years ago. She is still there as efficient as ever. I see my little enclave as an incredible example of people living in peaceful harmony as we bring together our commonalities and embrace our differences.

Living so close to the river I love my long walks through nature. The pathway system is so expansive that we can get almost anywhere walking or on a bike. While they have been repairing the river bank part of the route I love to walk has been closed. So I hop on the train, ride past the construction and hop off and continue my walk. I have a yearly membership to the zoo so I recently just left the path, walked through the zoo and left by the other entrance which was right on my preferred route. I admit my daughters friend, who is a city police officer, thinks I am nuts as she sees a different side of life. But I find the tent communities that pop up in the warm months try to remain hidden. I believe there is very little that separates me from that situation. I am reminded of the saying my mother taught me. There, but for the grace of God, go I. Truly I am blessed in so many ways. Maybe I am naive, but I truly believe most people want to be left in peace. We have a resident homeless couple who have chosen our community as their home. Their shopping carts are in a different area every day and they set up camp at night beside sidewalks with tarps over the carts as they sleep underneath. They are always on public land, never private property and they never bother anyone. Most people just leave them in peace. In fact, one day they had some issues with their bike and my neighbour offered help which they refused. So she brought them coffee from the house and chatted with the wife as the man fixed the bike.

This is my community. My little town. My home. Where neighbours help each other. They stop you from getting out of your car because they saw a Bob Cat on your porch. And four men chase it away. Where conservative neighbours see your HUGE NDP election sign on your lawn and say nothing and do nothing. Politics doesn’t divide. It promotes discussion. And laughter. Especially after some wine. Where I haven’t shovelled snow since my husband died because three neighbour men do it. Where my trash cans in the back alley are put back for me after pickup. I am now the old person. The community has a new batch of young kids out riding their bikes and skating on the outdoor rinks. Time moves on and we grow up and grow old but the community hums along. Things change but things stay the same. Faces change but the people are the same. We are a community that has endured the changes around us and we continue to accept them. At the same time we love the comfort that comes from the familiar. And although there are those who maybe don’t like that the face of the community is changing, well, they are so much in the minority.

And so as I get a little older I am reluctant to sell my house for something smaller. Easier. I moved lot as a child and when people ask about my hometown. I am stuck for an answer. I spent six and a half years in school in one town. That was my longest school career. I went to six schools. This community has become my small town. Its where I raised my kids. They lived here. It is their home town. They may not come back much and maybe they don’t see old friends a lot. But this is where they learned about family and friends and community. They had freedom to roam and permission to explore and learn about their world. I know one day everything will change. The location is desirable and zoning is changing. In time the houses will be torn down and huge duplexes with no yards front garages will emerge and no one will have to ever meet their neighbours. But for now, it is evolving at a slower pace and it will remain the tiny hidden gem in this huge city. This is where I learned what a community truly is. And I found out what community meant when my husband died. It is family.