Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Renaming 49th Avenue to Veterans Memorial Drive will help keep alive the efforts of Canadians in two world wars and many peace-keeping missions. City council did the right thing Monday, voting unanimously to rename the downtown street.
The supreme sacrifices veterans made didn't just help the oppressed in foreign parts, they are the foundation of what makes Canada the envy of the world as a place to live.
Using 49th Avenue only where it skirts the downtown core is appropriate.
Its major neighbours are the Canadian Forces Northern Area headquarters with its attendant park of militaria, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police headquarters graced by the Cenotaph, and City Hall.
Behind the forces HQ is the Ceremonial Circle.
"It's a wonderful street," said Royal Canadian Legion branch president Lloyd Lush in proposing the name change.
He is right.
The first order of business is to build a bridge across the Mackenzie River at Fort Providence.
It looks like the span won't be complete until 2008, but there continue to be voices warning about the impact proposed commercial tolls will have on Yellowknife consumers.
The price of goods is always a concern, but the guarantee of a year-round road link to the south must be everyone's primary concern.
The bridge must be built as soon as possible, because each passing month and every extra year will only add millions of dollars onto the eventual cost. Right now it's $60 million. By 2012, who knows what the price will be. Imagine the toll then.
Editorial Comment
Brent Reaney
Kivalliq News
Last week, a man in Rankin Inlet offered to take me on a trip to a cabin he was building about a mile out of town.
"But we'll have to go by Honda," he said.
I had never driven an ATV, but how difficult could it be?
The next morning I learned the mile out of town was across the ice to Thompson Island.
Having never been on the sea ice, and remembering the warm temperatures the Kivalliq had been experiencing during the past week, I began to reconsider. But the man convinced me there was no reason to be afraid.
And after a 100-metre ATV practise run, our group of three drove down to the shoreline - front and back ends loaded with huge pink bundles of insulation for the cabin.
Up close, the hundreds of puddles dotting the bay made it look like a bowl of blueberry swirl ice cream. I uncomfortably stepped over small streams with what looked like cracks underneath them.
All I could think about was falling through the ice while desperately wrapping my arms around a puffy bag of insulation, assuming it would float.
Some of you may laugh, but I refused to get on the four-wheeler.
"You're a journalist," the man told me. "To write about something you have to know more than just the facts. You have to experience it."
Those last two sentences struck me deep inside. Though driven by a desire to experience things, I often have nothing more than "the facts" when it comes to writing about Nunavut.
"And I had to learn last year," the man's 13-year-old son said.
Strong points made, I climbed onto the machine.
Soon we were weaving our way across the ice, at times driving through water nearly a foot deep. I was scared.
Sometimes two sloping banks of melting snow and ice would form a small ravine filled with water. On the way through, the machine would dip sharply as the camera around my neck smacked against the odometer. Soon after, a splash of water would cause the engine to smoke and make a repeated clacking sound.
Staring straight ahead for about the first half-mile, I eventually relaxed my grip and looked up to feel the warmth of a sun sitting high in a nearly cloudless light-blue sky.
As we neared the shore, I began to realize this simple task was one of the most amazing things I had ever done. If there is even one reader who thinks my actions reckless, I ask no one to mimic me.
Instead, I would like all Kivillimmiut to understand how I felt standing on the edge of the ice.
Though entering the unknown can be intimidating, it should not stop you from doing something important. For me, learning to better understand what I write about is important. Your reasons will likely be different.
But trusting the unknown becomes easier when you find someone - like the boy - who has successfully travelled the same route.
Editorial Comment
Jason Unrau
Inuvik Drum
Inuvik will be the hotbed of competition this summer as it prepares to host 330 athletes, coaches and chaperons for the Sport North-inspired NWT Summer Games.
According to a Sport North press release, there will be two components to the event: a "learn to compete" portion, which will feature games such as flag football, softball, soccer and swimming; and a "demo sport" part where participants can try new sports.
Not being one to discourage a little healthy competition, I wonder if Sport North (GNWT) could have saved itself a few bucks and sent the 33 NWT communities that will participate in the upcoming games a box of sporting equipment rather than flying hundreds of people hundreds of kilometres so a few could give badminton a shot for the first time.
With a box of soccer balls, gloves, bats and assorted gear, communities' kids could test out the sports, pick one or two they enjoy, develop some talent in it/them and then fly all over the territory to engage in competition.
However, that wouldn't really be keeping with what is often the territorial attitude with regards to giving everybody a chance and feeling good about participating as opposed to being hell-bent on winning.
Which brings me to the recent goings-on in the Inuvik Slo-Pitch League, which totally goes against this "feel good" attitude about getting out and being active rather than wanting to beat the snot out of the opposition.
It seems there are some really serious players in this year's league who are tired of engaging the lacklustre competition.
The solution: break the league into two divisions whereby the good teams would not have to play the not-so-good teams as often, if at all.
But not to worry though, every team will get a chance to play for all the marbles in the grand-daddy-of-them-all league championships come the end of August.
Apart from the obvious problems with this plan, such as how the not-so-hot teams are supposed to get any better if they're stuck playing all the other hacks, it's slo-pitch for crying out loud.
Quite possibly slo-pitch is the most dumbed-down version of America's favourite pastime where the "strike-zone" is a huge rubber mat and the pitcher lobs the ball toward the batter in a rainbow-like arc.
Unlike its baseball progenitor or fastball cousin, the magic of slo-pitch is that it's relatively easy to hit the ball. And the reason for this rule alteration with respect to pitching is presumably so more people can get in on the action. Slo-pitch even adds an extra fielder to facilitate this.
So without any baseball or fastball leagues to play in, some of Inuvik's expert slo-pitchers want to up the ante in a game redesigned for any old punter to take part. Almost like wanting to start a professional jacks association or expert tiddly-winks league. It doesn't really make sense.
Just like flying a few hundred kids here this summer so they can give soccer a try. A better idea would be to post them a soccer ball. As for the home front, perhaps next year a fastball league could be reignited.
Editorial Comment
Derek Neary
Deh Cho Drum
Concern over two missing men cast a pall over Fort Simpson.
No, too cliche.
Gloominess permeated the community as residents anxiously awaited word on the whereabouts of the missing men.
No, just as trite.
These are hackneyed statements, but there is truth in them. There was definitely a sense of despair earlier this week as community members pondered the fate of two men who seemingly disappeared in the wilderness. Solemn expressions, furrowed brows and the shaking of heads were commonplace as people tried to come to terms with what might have happened. It was a great mystery that left many residents speculating, trying to piece together how two experienced bush men could inexplicably wander off without a trace.
Search parties from Fort Simpson and Wrigley left for the North Nahanni on Monday. The following day was National Aboriginal Day. It's normally a day for celebration but it was, understandably, rather muted in Fort Simpson this year.
When would the men turn up? What condition would they be in? Many people couldn't stop wondering.
Another question lingered in some circles. Why hadn't the police acted sooner? Couldn't they have called upon more resources?
Police say they received a call about a fire and the possibility the men were missing early in the morning of June 17. The Department of Environment and Natural Resources sent out a helicopter to check out the fire and do a cursory search that same day. RCMP joined the helicopter search on Saturday. On Monday, it became a full-scale search.
The underlying suspicion of discrimination surfaced. Was it because these two men were aboriginal that a delay occurred?
This is an extremely disturbing issue, but there are people who are speculating that a racial divide may have contributed to an initial lack of response.
Is it a fair assumption to make? In every search and rescue effort, aren't there always going to be those who maintain that more should have been done sooner?
In this instance, there was uncertainty about whether the men were missing or not. There was poor communication over a great distance because of an unreliable satellite phone. That added to the confusion.
Let's remember that Fort Simpson's law enforcement officers have been doing their damnedest to keep alcohol out of the hands of minors. They offer the Drug Abuse Resistance Education (DARE) program in hopes of leading youth in the right direction. They coach minor sports. They are supportive of the justice circle. These are good men, honourable men.
As of this writing, the safety and well being of two missing Fort Simpson residents is the foremost concern. But in the near future, the air needs to be cleared. Wary band members - not just the chief and council - and the police - not just the detachment commander - must sit down across from each other and start a dialogue whether it's at the community hall or around a campfire.
Until they truly get to know each other, none of the above questions will ever be answered.
Due to incorrect information given to Yellowknifer for the story Headed for the Skies, June 22, Paul Sullivan of Inuvik was identified as being from Yellowknife and Sheldon Lundrigan from Yellowknife was identified as being from Inuvik. Yellowknifer apologizes for the error.