Santa's Little Helpers, The Others

It's Christmas Eve and I'm thinking about Hermey the Elf.  Remember him?  He was one of Santa's Helpers who didn't want to make toys; he didn't have a knack for it like all the other elves.  Instead, he had dreams of becoming a dentist.  Creepy.  When I think about it, the whole concept of Santa's Helpers is a bit 'off.'  As a child, it seemed natural to me to think there were little people on some far side of the world who liked making me toys.  My parents remember me asking if elves ever get tired of working for Santa.  As I understood, this is what they were created to do.  Elves wouldn't be happy otherwise.  Santa's Helpers lived for this stuff.  All was perfectly acceptable in my 5 year old mind.  In fact, it gave me more incentive to be a good little girl, and not a naughty one, so I could help the elves fulfill their purpose in making me more toys.
I'm a bit older now, and I wonder if I could feed this fairytale to other children.  I would want my kids to experience the wonder and imagination that can come with Christmas, but not at the cost of skewing reality to this extent.
Let's examine the elf figure.  Elves are "other."  Elves look different from us regular folk.  They have smaller bodies, bigger ears and perma-smiles.  They live far away from us.  They work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and they like it.  They work at Santa's Headquarters which often resembles a factory assembly line; dream-like working conditions for the little workers.  They thrive off the efficiency.    We can accept this because they aren't really people, in the sense that we are people.  The minor separation between us and them makes it ok, right?  We're of a different kind. 
So, where do our toys come from?  Who makes them?  Are these toy makers happy?  Are they smiling?  Do they live to please a Santa figure?  Do they have a choice?
I think if the day comes when I'm responsible for telling my kids a Christmas story, it won't revolve around an ideology that benefits our comfortable lifestyle.  Our Christmas story has greed plastered all over it to the point that we can't even admire a tree in its natural habitat.  We have to chop it down and prop it up in our living rooms and accessorize the sap out of it.  Why not go for a walk and admire the natural beauty of a pine tree? 
It's time to re-invent Christmas.  I'm bored with it, and these toys suck.

Bingo, Our Chance At Happiness

I played Bingo this weekend.  It was my first time.  I did it because there was a big flashy sign that told me “Happiness is Shouting Bingo” as I walked down King St.  Who doesn’t want happiness?!  Not me, so I gave it a try.  I wanted to see first hand what this happiness looked like. It turned out to be unhappy, at least for me.  If I could rephrase the Bingo slogan it would say something like, “While happiness may be experienced for the one person shouting bingo, there is no happiness to be found for anyone else playing.” Put that in your dabber and stamp it. 
I know quite a few people who would find my critique offensive because Bingo is near and dear to their hearts and if that is you, please know I mean no harm to the hopeful bingo player.  My words go out to those who wish to examine both sides of the bingo card.  While there might be some convincing arguments for the temporary pleasure found in Bingo Culture, is there not also some measure of pain?  Bingo is a $6 billion Industry in North America.  I'm curious as to why that is.  What's the hook?  

Upon arrival to the Bingo Hall, I asked how much it would be for a bingo book that I overheard the people in front of me order and the reply was $35.  $35?!  I didn’t have that much money to spend on luck so I bought one card for a twoonie, and I was generously lent a bingo ink dabber as I hadn’t come equipped with my own.  I immediately felt at a disadvantage.  To make matters worse, I forgot to bring my lucky charms!  Doh!  There goes my chance at happiness.  This $35 charge was due to the “Big Win” that happens on the first Saturday of each month of $100,000.  I had an interesting conversation with one gentlemen who was playing next to me.  He looks forward to the big win the first Saturday of every month and will sacrifice a portion of his social assistance check to do so. That's $35 of his monthly $585. 
I was immediately not buying into this ideology of happiness.  Ideology is very sly you know. It contains a measure of truth masked in untruth.  It takes us to a place we ache to go.  It paints a picture of security, of pleasure, of the things that are currently lacking from our everyday lives.  What it fails to offer is the reason why these things are lacking in our lives and conceals the reality that most of us will never attain what it promises. In the example of Bingo, that one ‘lucky’ person might be happy yelling bingo, but the majority will remain completely isolated from it.  I think the downtown core of Hamilton doesn’t need an illusion of luck, lurking over us on King St.  We don’t need fairy tales and dreams of the good life, we need something entirely tangible, that will carry us out of such toxic ideologies.
My mom told me the Bingo Hall I went to used to be called Kresges, which was a big department store of some kind with a bakery and other such things.  Maybe that’s a step in the right direction.  Maybe that’s only a more appealing ideology.  I’m more interested in what is being done to counter-act the products of mass culture.  If people enjoy a friendly game of Bingo once in a while then they are welcome to it, but what alternatives are being offered to the people who aren't happy playing bingo but have come to view it as a last hope, or as a cycle of addiction?  How is greater awareness being brought into the public sphere that gives us a true sense of moving forward?  What are we consenting to with the choices we are given?  Let’s create new choices for ourselves, new places of vitality instead of operating in these old culture hubs based on mass standardization.  The answers are here, hibernating within each one of us.
Curious about Bingo Culture? Click on this link: http://www.bingothedocumentary.com/clips/whatsabout.MOV

Christ's Cathedral, Maker's Market

http://www.makersmarket.ca/

As I opened the big wooden doors to the church that’s celebrating its 175th anniversary, I was surprised to find the flood of movements and activities bustling on the inside.  At first, my senses were in over drive with the beautiful architecture of the old church and the stained glass windows, not to mention the Carols that echoed off the high ceilings from the grand piano amidst the conversations had between vendors and shoppers.  If any skeptics are questioning this temple becoming a ‘den of thieves’ you can be certain this market is worthy of our praise, and our money. 
At Christ’s Church Cathedral, what’s being offered by the Maker’s Market comes with the community supporter’s best interests in mind.  I loved that I was offered a handful of fresh Kale Chips upon entry, which was next to the booth selling bean sprouting supplies and books on “How to Save Your Seeds.”  (A personal interest that I’m discovering more about.) 
The health conscious and the environmentally conscious have their place here, and so do the refurbishers. There seemed to be a trend of local artists and designers who have a knack for finding old treasures and making them new again.  There were two such items I couldn’t leave the market without;  one was a broken rosary made into a necklace with a vintage cameo, and the other was a tie pin made from an old computer “Delete” button.  If this refurbishing trend found at the Maker’s Market is an example of the trends happening within the city of Hamilton, I think we are being crafted in good hands.  I get excited when I think of Hamilton being reinvented as more of its people are developing an eye for the (old) treasures hidden within.  As the Maker’s Market reflects the re-creations happening in the downtown core, it also gives us a chance to support the local economy as we invest in our very own artists, artisans and farmers.   

contact Sherri to recreate your old jewelery pieces: tremblaysl@hotmail.com

One thing I was reminded of when visiting this cathedral, were the words Jesus used to described his followers - Living Temples.  Whether you consider yourself a believer or not, I think we could all believe in the hidden life within ourselves.  Each one of us carries a piece of life that no one else can house.  We each function as a temple would - with a set of practices and perceptions for living out our beliefs.  All that to say, be sure you check out what the Maker’s Market has to offer and while you’re at it, explore this concept; What’s in your temple?

A Neighbourhood Living Room

http://heartofthehammer.wordpress.com/

"We must not build housing, we must also build communities." - M Burton

Were it not for a friend that introduced me to the ever-so quaint Heart of the Hammer Cafe, I tragically would’ve overlooked it.  Driving on King St East, one is not exactly encouraged to slow down along the 4 lanes of one-way traffic to check out what’s being offered by the South Stipeley neighbourhood.  Since visiting this cafe, it quietly calls out to me every time I drive by, which is why I made my second visit to the cafe last night.
Just shy of its one year anniversary, Heart of the Hammer Cafe was birthed when Rebecca Doll saw a for rent sign in the window of the old Apollo sport’s bar.  What began as a hobby and personal interest in cafe culture, has become a 112 hour work week for the most-dedicated Rebecca.  She started out with something money can’t buy and that’s community.  From the street sign to the table lamps to the fridge in the back kitchen, everything has been made possible by the donations and efforts of the community.  Last time I checked, I couldn’t order that at Starbuck’s.  Rebecca has a very sincere and inclusive approach to running the cafe which allows for the input of anyone who visits.  Rebecca lets the community decide what they want the cafe to be, which explains the very busy schedule that includes book club, crafts, music and entertainment, art displays, and vinyl night among many other events.  She also brings to the cafe her own flare for French culture with her keen knowledge of fine cheeses, meats and wines, which was generously shared with my mom and I as the midnight shipment arrived.  Perfect timing!  My mom described her visit to the cafe as she would visiting a family member in their home, receiving the best the host had to offer us.  We couldn’t pull ourselves away from the conversation we had with Rebecca and other new friends and actually stayed 2 hours past closing.  The Heart of the Hammer certainly rings true, as this tiny space functions as any heart would, supporting life in Hamilton with every beat. 

Seeing the City

Before the fall of the World Trade Centre in ’01, there was a poster on the 110th floor of one of the towers that read It’s hard to be down, when you’re up.  The irony of such a statement has painfully proven itself wrong in the physical sense, but there are other implications that come with towering above a city, and what that implies for those under foot. In relation to Hamilton, I was up in the sense that I used to live on the Hamilton Mountain, but on the inside, I was down as I was detached from the heart of the city.  

I write this post to those who don’t frequent the downtown Hamilton area, not to condemn, but to highlight what was missing from my own everydayness lived out on the mountain.
About a year ago, my family sold our house on the Hamilton hill and bought a house downtown, to be closer to the center of the city.  I can’t tell you what great things it has done for us, despite the array of confusion received from family members.  My life experience on the mountain was secluded.  I had to get in my car if I wanted to go anywhere and that was usually to Limeridge Mall.  It was this dissatisfaction of my everyday routines that lead me to move downtown.  I often thought that Hamilton, like many other cities in the GTA, didn’t have a core to the city.  For me, downtown Hamilton was nothing more than a drive-thru to get some place else.  How very wrong I was and how very much is changing in my understanding Hamilton. 

Being downtown has freed me from seclusion.  It means I can walk to the center of the city, if only to stare at the fountain in Gore Park.  It means I can walk to the bank, the market, and the library, or check out a couple shops I’m getting to know on King St.  It means I’m getting outside and interacting with many individuals in ways that weren’t possible before.   
In the past 7 months, I’ve met quite a few welcoming neighbours on our street.  The entire area seems to be undergoing a transformation that’s had a unifying effect on all of us.  Everyone here has a story - a conscious reason why they live here. We’ve met a handful of people who came from Toronto and commute to work every morning.  We’ve met others who moved downtown because of the architectural beauty and construction of the homes.  The house to our immediate left is rented by one of the hardest working single moms of two I have ever met.  She also takes pride in the house she rents, and cares for it as her own.  There’s a current of change that my family has been caught up in and I wonder if we would’ve missed it, had we stayed on the mountain. 

Despite my new found love for downtown Hamilton living, I often hike up the Wentworth Stairs to catch a glimpse of the city from above.  There’s a certain illusion of empowerment that comes with seeing the city from its plateau; like a Celestial Eye with all-seeing powers, I can sum up the city in one quick glance.  It temporarily makes the complex readable. It’s a very different view though, one I would argue is incomplete and inaccurate.  As Warren Breckman said, when a city is seen from on high, “Its unruliness is tidied by distance, its mobility is captured in a frieze, its impact on all five senses is reduced to disembodied vision, and will always be different from the city viewed in the street, amid people, and buildings.”  To further explain this concept, think of a film that opens with a cityscape.  The camera will show the city from a distance, but has to zoom in to street level to tell the story.
So it is with Hamilton, if we want to understand our story, we have to get out and start creating it, defining it, and living it out under the figure of the city.  When we explore the secluded places of a city, we begin seeing it as it truly is.  From that place, there is nowhere else to go but up.

My Mom and Memory Lane - Practices of Hamilton Past

Look Mom! No Cavities! 

"A memory is a Prince Charming who stays just long enough to awaken the Sleeping Beauties of our wordless stories." (de Certeau 124)

To the left is a picture of me holding a picture of my mom.  When I told her about this blog, and about my search to explore the everyday in Hamilton, she had no problems sharing with me her memories of life growing up here.  I asked her to indulge us because, "Memories tie us to a place... It's personal, perhaps not interesting to anyone else, but after all that's what gives a neighbourhood its character." (de Certeau 124) If you're the reminiscent type, this one's for you.

Hamilton: My Space, My Home
By Linda Quest

A proud Hamiltonian of 61 years, my earliest fond memories, sights and sounds growing up in Hamilton are:

• The warning bells of the Yummy Man coming.
• The Rag Man yelling out, “Raaags” as he slowly worked his way up and down the alley ways, collecting any give-aways to be recycled.
• Running through the various assortment of sprinklers across the front lawns of West Ave South.
• The Ice Man's pick breaking off chunks of ice for us kids to suck on.
• The clomping of the horses taking baked goods to the local Stinson St Corner Store and the clink of the round iron rings fastened to the curb where the horses would be tied up.
• The sound of ice skates carving up the newly frozen rink the Fire Dept would flood for us on cold winter nights.
• The church bells of St Patrick’s ringing out on my wedding day.
• The many thank you’s received from fellow citizens, young and old, after cleaning their teeth and helping them to overcome fears of visiting the dental office.

After 45 years I’m still privileged to practice Dental Hygiene in dental offices and Long Term Care facilities within Hamilton.  The greatest blessing though, is to be mother and friend to my daughter and son as we all enjoy family and friends in this beautiful city we call Home.

Would you like some Hamilton with your Tim Hortons?

"Good morning, my name is Amanda, thank you for choosing our Tim Hortons location, how may I help you?"  This is my second alarm clock that faithfully goes off at 8 am every Monday morning as I place my order.   I am a weekly Tim Hortons drive-thru aficionado.  (It is easy to do when you have 4 Timmy's locations within 4 blocks from your front door.) I have practiced the art of devouring sour cream glazed donuts since the tender age of 15, when I became an employee of the franchise (which lasted about 3 months.)  That was in 1998, and Tim Hortons has become even more of a Canadian cultural fix in the past 12 years extending beyond the borders of Hamilton to such places as Kandahar, Afghanistan.
Hamilton, giving birth to the first Tim Hortons location, has been defined by this cultural icon.  Within Canada, there are some who describe it as part of the essential Canadian Story.  Pierre Burton suggests, "It is a story of success and tragedy, of big dreams and small towns, of old-fashioned values and tough-fisted business, of hard work and of hockey."  Others, such as Rudyard Griffiths believe, "Surely Canada can come up with a better moniker than the Timbit Nation."
How has Tim Hortons defined you?  How have you defined Tim Hortons?  For some it is the only way to start a day, for others it is a meeting place, where everything from sports to family to business can be discussed.  For others, it is a point of tension based on the methods of coffee bean production, which is part of the Sustainable Coffee Program. Reguardless of what Tim Hortons represents to the individual, I have a hard time imagining Hamilton without Tim Hortons, and an even harder time imagining Tim Hortons without Hamilton.  Here's to being 'Always Fresh', Always Tim Hortons and Always Hamilton.

Art Crawling and the Artist’s Role in Urban Renewal

Experience Hamilton through the eye of Reg Beaudry  www.regbeaudry.com

Like I said, I woke up and I was in Hamilton and as a newby to the downtown central area, I was promptly informed that I must experience the James Street North Art Crawl if I’m to call myself a Hamiltonian.  No sooner did I hear these words, was I on my way.  When I left Hamilton 7 years ago, I had never experienced James Street North.  When I found myself in the midst of the collective that was gathered last night, I understood for the first time what the buzz was all about.  Hamilton is experiencing a renaissance, and I dare say that the local Arts Community are the trailblazers of this path. The very phrase “Art Crawl” suggests an atmosphere that invites people to create and define a given space through their own movements.  This was happening, layer upon artful layer.  I saw people of all walks, gathering from many regions of the city to this one designated neighbourhood.  I saw buildings take on new life forms, serving new purposes.  I heard new conversations between people who would not normally converse.  I was exposed to art I had never before seen, revealing to me new concepts I would not have considered.    I had conversations with people who shared their memories of what James Street used to be; the good, the bad and the ugly.  De Certeau describes this spatial experience as, “An exploration of the deserted places of my memory.” (123) Urban Renewal revives people’s dreams, myths and legends of a place, while bringing to life new ways of operating within it. 
The next morning I went back to view the street in the aftermath.  I found myself overwhelmingly thankful for those who define the space known as James Street.  This is what artists do.  They are in one sense revitalizers of the world’s debris,  moving into neighbourhoods that most would overlook.  What will happen when people start recognizing the value of these practices?  Will artists move on to other neighbourhoods due to gentrification?  Rest assured, if the initiators of James Street North move on to invent other spaces, they can be certain the rest of us will follow - crawling right behind them.

Life in Motion - An Introduction to the 'Art of our Existence'

King & James  (Photo: Paul Quest)

"The everyday has a certain strangeness that does not surface..." (de Certeau 116)

I woke up and I was in Hamilton.  My sense perceptions, of which I am a slave to, were already quick at work on my behalf interacting with the space around me.  The sights, the sounds, and the smells of the city- they came to me without any effort on my part.  I absorbed and consumed the fiber of my surroundings without any conscious involvement in the process.  
This doing is a type of passive thinking that can be described as unconscious reproduction which suggests we are constantly producing and interacting with our surroundings  in ways we do not realize. (Sheringham 127) It also suggests that we do not give ourselves enough recognition for our constant response to the world around us.  As Spinoza once said, "The ability to exist is power."  Certainly, every Hamiltonian can find their place in such a statement, as we influence our surroundings by our most microbe-like responses to them.
What is the connection then, between these seemingly insignificant functions of our everyday practices and the macro-cosmic space surrounding us?  This blog is based on Sheringham's theory that suggests our everyday practices define the spaces we live in.  If that is so, what are we doing to define Hamilton?  I'd like to propose that, "What needs factoring in if one is to apprehend the everyday is not something extra - aesthetic, subjective, or intellectual - added from the outside, but our lived experience of it, our participation and immersion in it." (Sheringham 127)  Defining a space requires our attentive engagement within it.  Walking the city, seeing sights, having conversations - these are all part of the process.  Here's to the first step...