The Common Tone

but not the worst either. I am beginning to realize that life can very often be about accepting a situation or circumstance that may not be the best, but finding comfort in the fact that it certainly isn’t the worst either. Perhaps this is the beginning of my loss of childhood idealism, but that may not be the worst thing that could happen! Take for example this blog. Although I post relatively seldom, due to many issues (procrastination, time and lack of motivation to name a few), the posts I write I like to think are usually of decent quality. More to the point however, is that they almost always help me sort out my thoughts, and on those rare times when I get a few comments, can actually help me come to conclusions about difficult decisions. So this is my way of saying thank you to my blog and a declaration of sorts of my New Year’s resolution.

In 2008 I resolve to be as aware as possible of life’s infinite complexities and realize that the best is not always real. Not settling for less, simply accepting that some situations are not as bad as they may seem, in contrast with reality rather than with a lofty goal.

I am writing this midnight out of the thoughts I had from something I read. The something I read was my good friend’s blog post entitled Happiness on the East Coast (Han, 2007). Read it for yourself and discover the top ten “happiest” cities in the 10th Happiest nation (Canada). From the title one can deduce that a majority of these cities might be in eastern Canada. What might not be obvious, although perhaps not surprising, is the size of these cities: small. The reason that this may not come as a surprise is that, especially recently, the ideal of a small city is romanticized. A place where everyone knows everyone else and cares for everyone else; where conversations are struck up with a passerby on a walk “into town”. As Charlie so aptly puts it: “Houses would be left unlocked, and not accidentally either” (Han, 2007).

Well I would like, for a moment, to gaze into my past with a slightly less romantic view on small cities. As most who read this journal know, I grew up in a city of roughly 35,000. In reality the actual town might consist of about 15,000 including the downtown core and the residential areas outlying. The “amalgamated” Charlottetown is the mega-city of 35,000. Not tiny, but certainly not a hub of any kind. Admittedly we are pampered in Charlottetown, as the capitol of the province and the country’s most historic aid-project (i.e. money dump), we are home to many “big-city” amenities. But the conservative, insular, and downright fallacious gossip culture has not left despite the efforts of many previous attempts at urbanization. You are known in Charlottetown by your familial record. What you have accomplished and the mark you leave may add to this, but one can never forsake the triumphs and follies of the family tree. Telling of this is how a typical Island greeting plays out: “Hi, James MacDonald, nice to meet you.”
“Is your father Ronny by any chance. My god, he was my dentist for a while, great guy!” In this 30 seconds judgements are made, expectations set; not on one’s own merit, but on the merit of one’s last name. And who knows what rumors have been circulating about poor James MacDonald’s wife. Contrary perhaps to common perception, small community members don’t spend all their time holding hands, singing songs and borrowing sugar from the neighbor. While borrowing the sugar Jane might chat about how the people next door keep their lawn in such horrendous shape. Or, perhaps about the city is going to hell in a rather large hand-basket because “those damn kids” are loitering and smoking by the church. Maybe, even, a chat about how “they” are just letting to many damn CFAs (come from aways) in these days. That’s right Jane…just kick everyone who isn’t white, catholic (or protestant, depending) out of the country. For an hilariously exaggerated look at small town politics watch the film Hot Fuzz, they have it to a tee.

Just a few years ago I longed for the anonymity of a big city. Since, I have come to realize the bounty offered in a small town/city. The community, the easily accessible resources in everything from local food to education. In the developed countries of the world, where the populations have the means, there is a general trend away from big cities. While developing populations rush headlong into factory fueled cities like it was the beginning of the industrial age and the green revolution, we head out. We are beginning to rediscover the simplicity and the meaning to be found in small communities. Movements like the slow food movement, the organic/local farming movement, the green spaces movement and the small is beautiful movement all lead the way from high rises to bungalows. Rather than stubbornly resist I am going with the flow this time. I have come to realize that being brought up in a place where I always have somewhere to turn and someone to turn to has given me more than I imagined. The simple act of turning a key in a lock carried such symbolism it is surprising we are not more depressed in our modern world. The smiles I see when I walk to the farmers market and the excitement in someone’s face when you discover a mutual friend easily makes up for the few gossip mongrels that hound the locals. I would gladly give up the malls, theatres and skyscrapers for a cup of coffee on a friend’s porch (perhaps with some bread baked by a neighbor). Vive la revolución pequeña!