Bo Peep Blog

The City of Quesnel is located about 600km north of Vancouver – or, as many Canadians measure great distances in, an 8-hour drive.  I think my American cousins put me onto that little fact, since they all knew how many miles it was from one city to the next, whereas we would always say, “it’s a 5-hour flight”, or “it’s about a 30 minute commute”.  Who knew you could measure distance in units of time?  Einstein probably had a formula for it, but I’m no physicist (or mathematician, for that matter).

In any case, Vancouver is a beautiful city – nestled between the Pacific Ocean and the North Shore mountains, it is the place of my childhood.  Up until mid-February, it was also the home of much controversy, whether those outside of BC knew it or not.  BC is fuelled by timber resource dollars and with the high Canadian dollar, the economic meltdown in the States and poor housing starts everywhere, our province was having a tough time of things, as forestry companies suffered and in some sad cases, closed.  Add to that depressed scenario the upcoming Biggest (read Most Expensive) Party Ever in BC’s History, people were getting testy.  How can we afford this?  Do we need all that security?  Why are my tax dollars funding sport when schools are closing?  I didn’t jump on the mad bandwagon; I figured the Big Games were coming and I couldn’t stop it.  Heck, I figured I’d even watch some of the TV coverage from way up here.

Not only did I watch, the entire family watched.  All the time.  Hubby at work was streaming CTV.  I watched on days off at home, picking up my daughter late from school the day Clara Hughes won bronze (2:34pm, in case you forgot).  We watched during dinner, a total no-no in this house where really, the TV is hardly ever on.  We cried when Canada won medals, we cried when other countries won medals.  We cheered our heads off when our women and men won hockey gold.  We laughed during the Closing Ceremonies and then…and then…the withdrawal set in.  Where would we channel all this emotion now?  It felt so good to let it out, to be such enormous patriots and such admirers of these incredible athletes from all over the globe that we just weren’t ready to jump off the bandwagon.  Not yet.

And so next week, I will venture south with my children, ages 2 and 8, to witness an amazing sport called sledge hockey Up Close and Personal.  It worked out well for our schedules, as well as for our wallets – and the 8-year-old can barely contain herself at the possibility of seeing a walking Miga or Sumi again.  I am looking forward to soaking up some of the Paralympic spirit and enjoying what Cultural Olympiad bits and pieces the 2-year-old will put up with.  I did, after all, help pay for some of the party – and now I intend to enjoy it.