You Matter. They Matter. We Matter.

Years ago I wrote about scent-triggered memories. “Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains; another, a moonlit beach; a third, a family dinner of pot roast and sweet potatoes during a myrtle-mad August in a Midwestern town. Smells detonate softly in our memory like poignant land mines hidden under the weedy mass of years. Hit a tripwire of smell and memories explode all at once. A complex vision leaps out of the undergrowth.“ - Diane Ackerman, A Natural History of the Senses. I remember when I wrote about that way back when.  We're about to get our first snow of the season. I used to go into the back and look at the wet snow covering each pine needle, look up into the trees and breathe in the scent that reminded me of Lac Paquin. I'd try to get a good picture looking up the huge trees and would inevitably get a face full of snow as a breeze would knock the s...

I was reading some of the posts about the tornado on Facebook about the city, the Mayor and the workmen in general. As I read, my indignation increased because it wasn't at all what I personally experienced.  The city workers worked tirelessly 7 days a week. They checked in with us to see how they could help. They were there to clear some of the debris off our property and back lawn (so definitely our property) so we could get some of the main huge trees off our house. Everyone pitched in. Jean, who worked for the city for 21 years made sure the debris was cleared away. The orchestration of the trucks, bulldozers and cranes was incredible and they didn't leave until the sun went down at night. His heart was in the right place and did everything he could, period, full stop. The forestry professionals explained to me what some of the threats were and their concerns. No, they didn't want the white pines to go because of liability. To the contrary, they wanted trees to surviv...

There is something to be said about living on a corner, one which most people had to pass in order to get to other parts of Arlington Woods. Life passed by in a steady flow — people, workmen, city trucks, police, fire, medics — they all came and went at all hours of the day and into the evening. There was a lot to see; more to do than there was manpower to tackle it. Because we were on the corner, people had access to us where they didn't to those located deeper within the community, at least until the debris was cleared away. I doesn't matter how organized workers were, there was always someone disgruntled that they had to wait for help. When you're dealing with a trauma like this, it's understandable. Intellectually we all knew this but emotionally, it was hard to accept. The patience level (for the most part) of the officers protecting the area was incredible. Residents would rant and rave at them when they didn't get what they needed. Some got angry because ...

I have a whole new level of respect for those who have experienced the hit of a tornado, hurricane or any other dramatic weather event. When I went back to the house yesterday afternoon the feelings that hit me when I walked through the door were unexpected. I felt coldness; the space was so impersonal and messed up that I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I was going to pick up my Melita coffee filter / maker but everything in the kitchen was wrapped in plastic, save the broken area that has to be rebuilt. Our home didn’t feel like home any more, just a structure with breaks and bruises that is waiting for all the ducks to align so it can be fixed. One’s house is more than a structure. In many ways it’s a living extension of who we are, filled with memorabilia of life, past travel, family, and cherished moments. Rooms painted in colours that resonated with us are damaged and dreary as they wear a coat of debris. Windows that once let in streaming light now boarded over, making the ...

I'm not sure what's worse, the immediate realization that we were just hit by a tornado or what it looked like the next morning in the light of day. Devastation. We went back the next morning, not sure what we would find. Our street was closed off so we parked down the road and walked past the huge police presence, paramedics and firefighters. There was the scare of potential broken gas lines so they were checking house by house. The police let us through as we pointed out our house on the corner. They were so kind. They asked if we were OK and told us, "If there's anything you need" and I don't think it had anything to do with our safety. It was more about supporting us from the depths of humanness. At that point, I dreaded going back in not sure what I would find the next day in the light. I was really uncomfortable going upstairs. New cracks had formed in the ceiling in the back where there were none before. I had closed off the front bedroom not kno...

Life has a habit of surprising you in ways you can't imagine. My intention for this blog was to highlight some of the amazing people of our city. I started making a list of those I wanted to write about, do some interviews and capture the heart of what makes Ottawa home and that is its people. Little did I know that soon after I registered the blog and got it up and running, we'd be hit by a tornado. Our home and my office. That turned our world upside down, literally. The Ottawa region was hit by 6 tornadoes. It was late afternoon / dinner time when it was still light out and people could respond to the warnings. Because of that and pure luck, no one was killed! I finished work that day around 4:00 pm. I joked with a client that there was a tornado watch in the area....joked because we didn't get tornadoes in Ottawa. 20 minutes later the power went off and the clouds darkened. My mobile phone startled me with a tornado warning scrolling across the screen so I imm...