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There was evidence of some right-headed thinking and some wrong-headed thinking at the city's municipal services committee meeting March 4.

City councillors were talking about a proposal by administration to spend $40,000 on an economic development plan when councillor Rebecca Alty suggested the city wait until the territorial government's Department of Industry, Tourism and Investment completes an economic development strategy, which is currently underway.

"I don't know how many reports I have seen done by one department and then done by another department with the first department not knowing about the other's report because nobody talks to anybody," Alty said. She was supported by Couns. Dan Wong and Linda Bussey.

That's an example of right-headed thinking.

The last economic development plan was completed by a consultant for the city in 2006. The New Paradigm for Economic Growth plan called for the city to work toward becoming a cold weather testing centre, research geothermal energy, and develop a diamond and jewelry manufacturing industry.

That's an example of wrong-headed thinking.

We suggest the city can play only a limited role in the development of a diamond and jewelry manufacturing industry, or lure automobile manufacturers to the city to do cold weather testing. And everyone knows what happened to the idea of geothermal energy. It went nowhere.

We're dismayed when we see city council look at problems that are really outside its jurisdiction, decide that they don't have the desired answers and, as a result, hire a consultant to prepare a report that says any action that can be taken is either too expensive or exclusively involve other levels of government.

We'd prefer to see the city play to its strengths. It has established a communications and economic development department, which recently hired a new staff person and wants to develop a five-year plan that will express a vision for tourism, marketing and economic growth. A majority of council support this idea.

That's an example of right-headed thinking.

The city can be effective as a promoter of the things which make it unique - the lakes, the Northern lights, Snowking Festival, Long John Jamboree, Folk on the Rocks and its success in hosting major events like last year's Canadian Medical Association conference.

It can develop promotional materials and reach out to people in regions surrounding the capital, like the Kitikmeot, whose residents already use Yellowknife as a shopping hub, to the rest of Canada, where NWT Tourism says the bulk of the city's tourists originate, to the United States and abroad, to Japan and other Asian countries where many aurora viewers already come from.

The new city council should stick to common sense solutions and put its energy, and taxpayers' money, in areas where it can make a difference.

Judging by the hustle and bustle taking place on Yellowknife Bay over the weekend, the sophomore return of Long John Jamboree appears set for another successful run this weekend.

Trucks and heavy machinery were seen hauling giant blocks of ice from the lake for the ice carving competition; a giant wall of wooden pallets stands ready to burn for the "biggest bonfire North of 60;" next door to the Snowking Winter Festival, an immense clearing on the ice awaits the raising of tents and cook shacks, and the hundreds of vehicles that will be parked as Yellowknifers come for what is hoped to be a long-running event.

The Long John Jamboree rose phoenix-like out of the ashes of Caribou Carnival, the 55-year-old Yellowknife spring festival that ran out of steam for good in 2010 - the same year the long-standing summer tradition of Raven Mad Daze made its pathetic last stand.

The Jamboree can count a good part of its success on its energetic and well-connected team of organizers, led by its president, city councillor Adrian Bell. This is something that Caribou Carnival and Raven Mad Daze didn't have in their final years. The challenge to ensuring the Jamboree has a long-lasting and successful future is making sure the baton is passed to an equally energetic group when the current crop of organizers inevitably tire and move onto other things.

Organizations such as Folk on the Rocks have been managing to do this for more than 30 years.

The key is keeping up the interest - from sponsors and the public.

Canada lost a true iconic performer on March 6 with the death of Stompin' Tom Connors at the age of 77.

The legendary singer was a proud Canadian who penned more than 300 songs during his career, the vast majority of which had distinctly Canadian subjects.

Connors became an icon in this country for the pure Canadiana of songs such as Bud The Spud, The Hockey Song and A Sudbury Saturday Night, among many others.

He never forgot the North, and had a hit song with the Ballad of Muk Tuk Annie, featuring a heroine from then Frobisher Bay.

Pangnirtung was Annie's home in the poem of the same name by Eric Linden.

When heading out on tour, Connors would ask but one question to any artist hoping to be his opening act. If the answer to whether they liked beer was anything less than unbridled enthusiasm to the affirmative, they never landed the gig.

Connors was also an advocate for Canadian artists before the country's radio stations were truly willing to play a fixed percentage of Canadian content.

The MAPL (music, artist, performer and lyrics) system was introduced in 1971, with radio stations being mandated to air Canadian content 25 per cent of their broadcast day.

By 1999, it had increased to 35 per cent.

Many stations tried to circumvent the mandate by airing most Canadian content during off-peak hours, until further regulation made them play Canadian artists between 6 a.m. and 6 p.m.

At about the same time, in 1971, the Juno Awards were introduced and were to begin being broadcast across the country on TV in 1975.

A scant three years later, in 1978, Connors had enough of how the Canadian recording industry treated its artists and took a stand.

Stompin' Tom was frustrated over the fact Canadian radio stations didn't really want to play Canadian music, and too many Juno Awards were being given to performers who had left their country to work abroad, most notably in the United States.

Connors removed his name from the Country Male Vocalist Of The Year category and, days later, returned six Junos he had previously won. Many Canadian artists, who made it big in their own country in the years to follow, owe a great deal to Connors for drawing attention to the plight of Canadian talent.

I had a chance to meet Connors while writing a feature article on his return to the land of the bright red mud for a tribute to him at Johnny Reid's famous JR's Bar about 20 years ago.

I met him at the airport and he agreed to answer as many questions as I could ask during the time it took us to walk to his vehicle, as long as I carried the luggage.

In the brief time I had the legend to myself, I was impressed by his candour, sincerity and biting humour. In fact, Connors was one of the few celebrities I've interviewed who was all I expected and more.

He was tickled pink to realize I was little more than a cub reporter trying to make a name for myself at the time.

As I packed the luggage into his rent-a-car, while trying to get in one last question, he remarked this was one so-called celebrity I wasn't likely to soon forget.

Hopefully, at the end of the day, Stompin' Tom is one so-called celebrity an entire nation will never forget!

Sahtu MLA Norman Yakeleya recently spoke out against the North's new Northern Studies curriculum, introduced last fall in NWT and Nunavut high schools to educate students about Canada's residential school era. He complained that the Roman Catholic Church's role in the trauma inflicted on students at the government- and church-run institutions was downplayed, if not outright ignored.

Yakeleya said entering the residential school system was "like passing through a door from one world to another world."

Had Yakeleya reviewed the curriculum, he'd see it does indeed present the facts. It teaches the Roman Catholic Church's role in the day-to-day operations of the majority of the schools. It also relays the schools' were not simply focused on education, but had a secondary mission to assimilate aboriginal youth to the colonial culture and convert them to Christianity. The churches involved and the Canadian government achieved this goal by ripping families apart, discouraging the use of language and dismissing culture, messages often reinforced with some form of punishment.

The material spurs critical thinking on all aspects of the residential school system: the bravery of the children separated from families, the bravery of former students who shared a positive story of their school experience, and how hard it must be for other students to reflect back on bad memories.

It's not the job of the school systems to delve into the details of individual traumatic experiences or specific cases of abuse over the more than 100-year history of these institutions. This is the job of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission with its mandate to "acknowledge residential school experiences, impacts and consequences."

However an overarching theme in the curriculum is to acknowledge how the history of residential school affected people. This is achieved by analyzing Prime Minister Stephen Harper's 2008 apology for the treatment of aboriginal children and their families, through personal stories from former students, and through official reports concerning the inadequate government funding, diet, clothing and medical care, all of which is in the school material.

Since education should be presented without bias, the curriculum also includes positive stories from past students. There are those who look back at their residential school years and remember lifelong friendships forged, a place free from abuse, and the ability to return home to their parents. Some priests and nuns did their honest best to educate the youth in religion, arithmetic and reading, as was their mandate.

Indeed there were others who committed unspeakable acts, likely corrupted or empowered by the authoritative and near-absolute power given to them over their charges.

The physical, cultural and emotional wounds inflicted on aboriginal children caused issues that spanned generations. Abusive behaviours learned at the school carried with students into adulthood, into their families and was then passed on to their own children. Addictions became a crutch to silence the nightmares of growing up away from family supports and in an alien culture.

The material presented in this first draft of the resource asks students to look at the complexity of the school system, its history and its legacy with an emphasis on discussing the difficult subject matter in a supportive environment.

This curriculum is introducing a major part of Canadian and aboriginal history into the Northern school system. It is a conversation that has to happen, and the material navigates the waters responsibly.

While the Government of Nunavut has balanced its budget, half of Nunavummiut aren't so fortunate.

Both the government, which relies on its federal transfer money to set its budget, and many Nunavut families, with low employment opportunities and incomes, are forced to work within tight fiscal restraints. The difference, though, is cabinet can decide not to build new homes, as it did last year -- although an extreme need is there -- and then throw a bit of money at it the next year. Nunavummiut can't choose not to pay rent and then slide their landlord a fraction of what's owed the next month so they can use their budget to feed their families.

The GN predicts there is a shortfall of 3,000 to 4,000 houses and expects that need to grow by 90 homes each year. The 2013-2014 budget promises 30 homes to be built, not even a fraction of what is needed to address the annual deficit. How much progress does one make when paying one-third of the interest on a maxed out credit card? When does this become, in the government's eyes, a crisis?

Finance Minister Keith Peterson's touting of the government's financial stability belies the instability of life for ordinary Nunavummiut. Statistics Canada paints a bleak picture of the state of Nunavut. Our homicide rate in 2011 was more than 10 times the national average (seven were killed in Nunavut that year). Nunavut's violent crime rates generally tower above national rates, and this problem is underscored by severe mental health and addictions problems.

The GN's own figures demonstrate a serious need for better housing conditions. Our rate of tuberculosis - a disease most common in developing countries - is close to 65 times the national average (79 cases in Nunavut in 2012), and its spread is helped by overcrowded homes. Our suicide rate is close to 11 times the national average (34 people killed themselves in Nunavut in 2011). Less than half our Grade 12 students are graduating high school each year. Half of Nunavut's tax-filers made less than $26,005 in 2011, despite living arguably the most expensive part of the country.

Peterson acknowledged many of these issues in his budget address, and said he wishes the government had the resources to better tackle them. However, instead of addressing the territory's dire social needs his vision of the big picture is to prioritize the building of cash reserves.

"We can attract partners and financing only if we demonstrate that we can manage our own resources properly," said Peterson during his budget address on Feb. 27.

A government's credibility should be based on the welfare of its people first, not solely on the management of its pocketbook. When the territory's problems are more reminiscent of a developing country than the developed nation in which it resides, is it enough to simply govern and balance the budget? Is it enough to tackle these problems incrementally? This paper is of the opinion it is not enough.

We need addictions centres, new homes and mental health services. Our people need income and access to affordable food. Our MLAs must find the courage and drive to tackle these problems head-on. These leaders must publicly challenge the federal government if the territory does not have the resources it needs to provide the quality of life comparable to that of Canadians living in the provinces.

A surplus of $22 million is money we could have spent on new homes. Breathing room in our debt cap to the tune of $200 million is an opportunity to invest in an addictions and mental health facility. Our government could tackle that project through a public-private partnership, similar to its strategy to renovate the Iqaluit airport - a multimillion-dollar project.

Balanced budgets and a meek attitude towards our federal government might help us achieve devolution in a swifter fashion, but we are balancing these budgets on the backs of the poor, the homeless and the hungry.

Questions raised by Range Lake MLA Daryl Dolynny about a fatal truck accident on Highway 3 last month expose some serious holes in the government's capacity to rescue people involved in highway traffic collisions.

There are 1,758 km of all-season highway in the territory. Not a lot when compared to other jurisdictions down south but interspersing the infrequent number of communities along this highway system is a whole lot of nothing, not to mention often treacherous and unpaved roads.

Get into an accident on the Yellowhead Highway in Alberta and the response is bound to be nearly instantaneous. Few areas are without cellphone coverage, the traffic volume is much higher and emergency medical resources are more numerous and better equipped.

Yellowknife likes to view itself as a modern, cosmopolitan city with all the amenities to be found down south. But what we learned from the terrible head-on tractor-trailer collision on Highway 3 that killed two men and left another badly injured Feb. 19 is that all those conveniences quickly disappear when one leaves the city limits.

Passersby had to flag down a snowplow driver, who called ahead to Fort Providence for help - some 84 km away. Dolynny says MLAs were told that an air ambulance helicopter in Yellowknife was inexplicably told to stand down. Instead, a van from the health centre in Fort Providence - with unknown emergency service capabilities - was sent to retrieve the injured driver on this lonely stretch of highway west of Behchoko. He was taken back to Fort Providence and then flown to Yellowknife and then medevaced to Edmonton - several hours after the accident. That travel time could have been significantly reduced had he been flown directly to Yellowknife.

The Good Samaritans who stopped to help the man described him as being "pretty banged up." He was coughing up blood, leading them to believe he had suffered internal injuries. Considering the remoteness of the accident location, the extent of his injuries, and the time it took to reach him and get him to hospital, he should count himself lucky to be alive.

The Department of Health and Social Services has so far refused to comment on the emergency response to the accident, stating that it is awaiting the outcome of an RCMP investigation.

Health Minister Tom Beaulieu, meanwhile, admits "there is a gap in the system." One of the problems he alluded to was a lack of protocols between various departments and agencies, including the RCMP and community governments, about how to activate resources such helicopters and floatplanes when an emergency arises. In Alberta the decision is made by a physician.

Residents can accept that our Northern isolation means an immediate rescue on our highway system may not always be possible. But there is no excuse for not executing a speedy response with a helicopter or an airplane in the event of a serious accident.

This is a remedy that should not be left wanting just because accidents in the territory are few - 697 in 2011 - compared to southern jurisdictions. Northerners deserve the peace of mind that when the call goes out for help, they, or their loved ones, will receive an immediate response - even if help is hours away.

In late February, the Heritage Centre Society in Fort Simpson looked not into the past, but into the future.

The society held a series of meetings in order to make plans. What emerged was an idea for a society that would develop and co-ordinate projects related to heritage and culture throughout the region.

A society or organization of this sort is something that the Deh Cho needs. This is a region rich in history both before and after colonization.

This history, however, is at risk. The history in the most peril is that of the Dene people.

With each elder that dies, a little more history about the way things used to be and how people are connected are lost. Some work has already been done in this area.

Many First Nations in the Deh Cho have conducted traditional knowledge studies to map areas of importance and record traditional names of features surrounding their communities. Some First Nations have also recorded interviews with elders.

In Fort Liard, the hamlet undertook the Acho Dene Koe Elders Community Connection. That project traced as far back as possible the genealogy of all the families in the community and their connections to one another.

All of these projects are a start, but there is more work to be done. The Deh Cho needs a society or organization that can dedicate itself solely to the protection and promotion of heritage and culture. Individual First Nations are too busy and have too few resources to take on all the projects that they may like to see done.

In the future, if the Dehcho Process is settled, the regional government may dedicate a department or resources to this area. But in the meanwhile, steps have to be taken to gather and record the history that is slipping away. Even taking stock of what has been done in order to determine what areas are most in need of research would be a start.

What it will all come down to in the end, as so many things do, is desire and determination. If Deh Cho residents value their history and the history of the region, they will work to support initiatives that are undertaken to promote and preserve those things.

The Heritage Centre Society, or the society that may be created from it, will be a beginning. The region has a lot of history to celebrate and be proud of and it would be a shame if any of it was needlessly lost.

I had what might be one of my first real "Northern" moments on the weekend.

I was chatting on Skype with my youngest sister and her husband when it happened. They mentioned their youngest boy was working on a project about exploring the North, and I perked my ears up.

What I heard next both irritated me and made me despair a little for our educational system.

My nephew's teacher – in geography, of all things – didn't believe he had an uncle working in Inuvik. The reasoning for the disbelief was even more appalling.

"Well, no one goes to Inuvik in the winter," the teacher apparently said.

Later, after my blood pressure calmed down a little, I could see some of the humour in the conversation. However, it's mostly a sad commentary on how Canadians in general view the North.

That conversation came on the heels of me attending a tourism meeting earlier in the week where Jackie Challis, the town's economic development and tourism manager, touched on the same general theme.

She said she's often contacted by people who are curious about Inuvik and the North but have some serious misconceptions. Challis talked about some conversations she had with people while attending the recent NWT Days in Ottawa.

"It's so hard to get to Inuvik," she had one person tell her.

Her answer was priceless.

"No it's not, you just get on a plane, and then another plane."

Someone else asked how one survives the cold weather in the North. Considering that Ottawa is one of the world's coldest capital cities, I'm not sure the person asking that question had an understanding of irony.

Challis also had a witty answer to that question

"Well, in Ottawa, don't you put on a big, heavy coat in the winter? Well, in Inuvik, we just wear bigger, heavier coats."

Those answers made me laugh out loud because they are so true. Yet if this is the way places in the Arctic such as Inuvik really are viewed, it is kind of sad and silly – and very much an indictment of either our educational system or how much attention people pay to what they learn in class.

So in response to my nephew's dilemma, I e-mailed him some photos that will hopefully stomp on his teacher's disbelief.

You never know, though. I had one person on Facebook suggest – jokingly, I hope – that I was manipulating my photos while hiding out in seclusion in Ontario.

Sigh. I think we have a lot of work to do.

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