The Girl and Her Friend Who’s Moving To England

In days of yore, a friend moving away was a definite and demarcated end to things. Back in 1976, when I was in Grade one, I had a friend called Cameron who I played with regularly at recess, and a few times after school. But, then he moved away, and that was that. I just didn’t see him anymore. It was as if the very earth swallowed him up.

As it was so long ago, I can’t remember his last name. So, even finding him on Facebook isn’t really feasible. Too much time has passed. At the time, I remember not wanting to see him go, and anticipating the void his absence would create. But, what could I do? I just had to accept it. And I had to accept that it could happen again, to any one of the people I knew. And it certainly did. Pretty soon, such as thing came to be expected. There are friends and other classmates I had growing up that just dropped off somewhere; one year they were there, and the next they weren’t. In many cases, I can’t even remember exactly when they were out of my life. I myself moved schools after grade 9, leaving people behind me that I’d known since kindergarten, and many of whom I’ve never seen since. It was like moving to another planet.

But, that was then.

One of the Girl’s playmates is moving to England – the Isle of Wight to be exact. To maximize their time together, “playdates” have been arranged, so that they can squeeze out the last of their facetime together. They will miss each other of course. Children operate best when there is a routine to count on. And a part of the routine is seeing people every day, not to mention the love that grows between friends at any age. That much has not changed.

But, this is the 21st century.

One of the first things she and I did recently was to go to Google maps to find the Isle of Wight. When I was seven, if I’d had the presence of mind to ask Cameron where he was moving to, I could have consulted an atlas, or a road map, to find out where he was going to be living in relation to me. But I couldn’t virtually explore the street he was going to live on, or find out what colour his front door was going to be. Also, we didn’t have “playdates” arranged in 1976, unless it was us who arranged them (it was called “calling on” someone, which was just another way of saying we’d walk or ride our bikes to their house and knock on their door). Also, our parents didn’t really get involved in our personal relationships in the way that happens today. So, his parents and mine never really collaborated on helping us stay in touch. It was a different time.

But yesterday, the Girl and I explored the Isle of Wight together using Google Street Maps. She now has a pretty good idea of where her friend is going to live, and what his surroundings will be. She also has a basic idea of how far away the Isle of Wight is from where she lives. Further, she and her friend will have Skype, and (eventually) email and social media platforms at their disposal. There are channels to connection which they can use, with the help (initially) of their parents. It is possible that the changes that will occur over the years in each of their lives can in fact still be shared between them, despite a continent and an ocean that stands in their way. Whether this will actually happen is entirely another matter. But, the possibility remains to be a far more accessible one than ever before.

To the seven year old in me (he’s still there!), this is amazing.

It’s hard to say how far ahead the Girl’s generation on the whole will be on this score compared to how things have been for mine. Maybe with greater availability of connections, maybe geographical shifts aren’t going to be a barrier as they once were. Or maybe it will be easier for people of the Girl’s generation to take their connections for granted and let them go, since the stakes at a friend moving away aren’t as high. Who knows?

But, however things unfold she’ll have a few forces to draw upon. One will be her parents who will help her to stay connected as long as she wants to be, until she can manage it on her own. And another will be channels that just weren’t around when her parents were her age.

This is how it should be of course. Because a parent’s dream is mostly about helping to open up the possibilities for their children. To help her stay in touch with her friend, and not having the earth swallow him up is just another form of that in the end.

The Girl and the Mass Transit Idea

Part of being a parent is passing along your values to your children.

One thing I seem to have passed along is my love for, and belief in, mass transit systems. This includes the idea of transportation that is sustainable, a part of city infrastructure which is otherwise walkable.

By the time The Girl is the age I am as I write this, it will be the year 2049. This is one year before the big alternative energy target year in Europe – the EU energy roadmap for 2050 –  that will completely discontinue dependence on fossil fuels, and nuclear power. By then, alternative energy will not be alternative. And mass transit won’t be a “nice to have”. I don’t know what the world will look like by then here in Canada, stuck as we are in 2013 having to endure subsidized propaganda about how oil pipelines are the future of economic prosperity, and as safe as mother’s milk.

If I’m still kickin’ by 2049, I’ll be 80, and still against all that!

In the meantime, a lot of the people in The Girl’s life live apart from each other; friends, relatives, and of course parents. It takes a while to get places sometimes. As is well documented here, I went without a car for a while, crossing bridges and making pick-ups that were often challenging. And even since I’ve had the car, we’ve talked about ways to use it responsibly, to take transit when we can, and definitely to walk places when it’s possible to do so.

In any case this sparked a discussion about mass transit as the Girl sees it. This isn’t just about her, and her immediate circle. We’re talking a global solution here!

Here it is: The Passway.

It’s an electrically-driven “elevator”-like public vehicle, that seats up to ten people, with room for bathrooms.  You go into it, and decide on a destination – anywhere in the world. That’s how it’s kind of like the elevator idea, walking in  and pressing a button to the floor you want to end up on. Only, with the Passway (so named because you are “passed” from one location to another), there is a central “brain” (her words!) that is accessed by way of a map interface – maybe like Google Earth or something (must confirm). You plot your course, and away you go. The Passway is supported by a network of wires that intersect all over the world.

“You can go to China!” asserts the Girl.

I haven’t asked her how much it costs (“why does the world need so much money?” she was quoted as saying last week, to which I had no conclusive answer …), or how long it would take to build. “I might invent it.” she says.

I’m hoping for a drawing. We’ll collaborate on it, as she also suggested. And I’ll post it here.

In the meantime, here’s a picture of the two of us; the burgeoning civil engineer, and her loyal draftsman.

The Girl In Stanley Park On Earth Day Weekend, 2012

On Sunday this week, it was Earth Day. So, on the Saturday, the Girl and I sallied forth to spend the day outdoors. Specifically, we decided that it might be fun to take the SkyTrain down to Stanley Park, leaving the car at home and seeing what we could see.

Taking public transit used to be a matter of course for us. Since I bought my car last year, our adventures on the SkyTrain have been fewer than they used to be, I must admit. But, what better time than Earth Day weekend than to go green, not just in leaving the car at home, but by reconnecting with nature?

Stanley Park is a good place to do that, with a natural temperate rainforest just a single bus ride away from downtown Vancouver. So, we hit Royal City Center Mall, stocked up on fruit, and a bag of mixed nuts for the road, bought the Girl a transit pass, and set off on our transit adventure, hoping on the 155 bus.

We took the SkyTrain downtown, and after lunch at Tim Horton’s on West Pender, and upon stepping off the 19 bus, I used my questionable directional skills to get us to Lost Lagoon. One of the missions of the day was to see a swan, you see. Since my directional skills really are questionable, it took a while before we got to Lost Lagoon. Instead, we took a trek to the Rose Garden.

From here, we took to the trails, reading about the health of the forests, and the delicate balance of its ecosystem on signs along the way.  We wound our way down the trail to Beaver Lake, where we saw wood ducks, red-wing blackbirds, sparrows, and (amazingly!) a heron.

After a snack (bringing snacks is key to these kinds of outings, people!), we took a stroll back to the Rose garden, just to hang out again. There were highlights here too once we stationed ourselves on a patch of grass in the sunshine, with several newlyweds, dressed in their finery, and in one case in a horse-drawn carriage being among the most notable.

But, the real highlight may have been the swans, since I eventually did find Lost Lagoon. Did I get a picture of them? Not one that turned out, I’m afraid. But, I do have an enduring memory of a great day out with the Girl, in which we had lots of laughs, lots of ed-juh-cay-shun about our natural world in time for Earth Day, and a positive verdict from the Girl:

The Girl: This was a great idea!

Me: What was? (thinking it would be something about the trip)

The Girl: Bringing snacks!

The Girl and Being Asleep in the Car

I don’t know whether it’s the smooth suspension in my car, the quality of my driving, or that the Girl has a very busy day. But, when picking her up from daycare, and driving her back to my place, this is often the result:

Please note: I did not take this while driving. So, don’t be silly.

I may have taken this picture because she looks so cute in it. But, no one can prove a thing.

The Girl and My Neighbourhood

I trumpeted my decision to buy a car recently, as many of you may know.  A big part of that was actually about buying more time with my daughter, without having to spend a bunch of time dragging her to stations, to buses, to bus shelters in all kinds of weather, etc.

But, even though I now don’t have to worry so much about that stuff, I am still dedicated to the idea of the walkable neighbourhood. And just as importantly, I’m dedicated to reinforcing how valuable a walkable neighbourhood actually is. Where she lives now, it’s very hard for her not to have to be driven everywhere, as I eluded to. It’s not really anyone’s fault, with the exception of city planners, maybe. But, my neighbourhood is a contrast to that.

It’s an older neighbourhood, actually the oldest city in this region – New Westminster. In days of old, there were no massive parking lots, big box stores, and highways masquerading as residential streets. No. When this city was established, the main drag, or the high street, was the heart of every community. And main drags are meant to be accessed on foot. That’s where the phrase ‘window shopping’ comes from, folks. As such, the culture of walking flourishes here to this day. There are people on the street here. There is life.

The Girl at Moody Park in New Westminster. Here, there are sports fields, climbing equipment, tennis courts, lawn bowling, a public swimming pool, within striking distance of the library. And no need to find a parking space. The 'trees' she's leaning against here are a part of the water park, currently in hibernation, but waiting to refresh the neighbourhood come summer!

Within ten minutes on foot, I have access to:

• a park
• a library
• a public swimming pool
• a coffee shop
• a book store
• at least one family restaurant
• a convenience store
• a grocery store – actually, two!
• a drug store – two again!
• a mall with a food court
• four buses that take us to two SkyTrain stations
• lots of other stuff!

For me, it’s easy to balance off the Girl’s experience as a suburban kid who is constantly bundled into cars to go pretty much everywhere. She’s still a suburban kid when she’s with me. But, I think that a neighbourhood that she can explore with me on foot is somehow more accessible to her. In some ways, I think it can feel more welcoming.

The Girl and The Car, Pt. 2

So, I decided to follow up my other post about the Girl and my car with this post.  I figured a nice picture might work, so I asked her to pose sweetly in front of it.

She did.

Until I took the picture.

Now, that is a classic Evil Genius expression on her face, unless I am very much mistaken.

What’s that in her hand? A weather control device of some kind?

No. It’s an Easter egg.

Or is it?

>:-(D

(PS: And the Girl sings: “Happy Earth Day to you! Happy Earth Day to you! Happy Earth Day dear Ea-arth! Happy Earth Day to you!)

The Girl and the Car, Pt. 1

"I want a red car. Red is fancy." (photo:NateBW)

As many of you know, having read this blog in the last couple of weeks, I am going to be buying a car after two-years of car-less living, and with schlepping a small child and all of her baggage on transit in all kinds of weather.  The Girl has been on me to do this for some time, and up until recently budgeting would not allow it.

But, that’s changed, and because of transit shortfalls in the suburbs here in the Lower mainland at this point in history, I am going to bite the bullet.

I figured the Girl would be pleased by the news. So, in the back of her Mum’s car as we were driving back from dinner last night, I decided to whip up some hype.

“Guess what.”

“What?”

“I’m going to be buying something that will make you very happy. I’m going to buy …”

“A FISH?”

“No, not a fish. I’ll give you a hint; we’re riding in one right now.”

” … a CAT?”

“Sheesh. Are we riding in a cat?”

* mischievous giggle*

“It’s a car. I’m going to buy a car.”

“I want a red car. Red is fancy.”

“I don’t know if I’ll get to choose the colour.”

“I like red.”

“Fair enough.”

My appointment’s tonight, and is my first time buying a car, ever. I hope I luck out and find something in my range, and that’s red (apparently).

The Girl and Public Transit

Image courtesy of Atomic Taco

At the time of this writing, I have no car. I am on the verge of the edge of the precipice of buying one. I’m not entirely thrilled with the prospect. The expense is sort of forced, for one, which I resent. And another, I think individual car use isn’t exactly a 21st century strategy, what with the end of the age of cheap fuel in sight (that’s me being optimistic) and the rise of global warming a very real concern, no matter what the right wing, oil company-supporting TV pundits down south say.

Buying a car will present some advantages, I must admit. I’ll get to see my Mum a lot more than I do, and the Girl her Nana. I suppose too that certain simple pleasures will be enjoyed, too. It’ll be nice to play music while I drive, and to not worry too much about things like rushing to bus stops and budgeting huge amounts of time to getting not very far, all things considered, due to a lack of public transit coverage between my house, and the Girl’s Mum’s place.

The Girl herself will be happy about all of this. She’s been on me to get a car for years. But, I can’t help but be a little wistful anyway. Since her mum and I split, a lot of the bonding time between the Girl and I have been on and around catching buses and riding SkyTrains.  Her perception of where I am compared to where she is was measured by the mantra “A bus, a SkyTrain, and another bus”.

We’ve taken several routes to get to where we need to go. When the Girl was attending Happy Farm Daycare in Surrey, we took a walk down a shady lane, across a schoolyard with an absurd amount of chain-link fences criss-crossing it that made it resemble more a prison than a school, and onto the 321; King George Station, onto the front car to see the track flowing outward before us. From here, it’s onto New Westminster Station (with much curiosity about Columbia Street Station, where we got off to get a toothbrush one time). Then, a bus; the 123 Brentwood, to my house.

154 bus: a "Sweet Chariot" (image courtesy of Stephen Rees)

The 340 from North Delta is one of (only!) three buses that cross the Fraser from Delta and Surrey and onto my side of the river, only one of which, incredibly, actually stops at the SkyTrain on the Expo line during regular service hours! This route was something of a Sweet Chariot to the Girl and I on trips from one side of the river to the other, and therefore much beloved. I used to call the Number 15 bus in London that – the Sweet Chariot –  when I lived there, taking me from the East End (Poplar) to Central London (Charing Cross Station).

There is something about your bus that delivers something that can’t be replicated when you just climb into your car. It’s that feeling when you’re tired, it’s raining, or it’s getting dark, and your bus comes along, when you feel that the universe is taking care of you.

Other notable bus routes as ridden by the Girl and I: 155, 154, 101, 106, 312, 319, 100, 99B-line. They are Sweet Chariots, all; Scott Road stn, New West stn, 22nd St stn, and on and on.

The Girl has complained about trotting to bus stops, of being rushed, and forced into a bus schedule. I know how she feels. But, one thing that’s come out of that is the experience of riding buses and trains with fellow citizens, of taking advantage and being the benefactor of what I consider to be one of the hallmarks of civilization; accessible and affordable public transit.

But, I do have to get a car.

The logistics of seeing the Girl during weekday evenings, and of guaranteeing that the time I spend with her, especially during the week,  is no longer characterized by me watching the clock rather than enjoying that time, is becoming something of a concern. Given the state of the transit system right now, it’s just not sustainable for me to keep schlepping to the bus with her and all of her luggage, and getting her over the river in a narrow window of time afforded only by limited service after the sun goes down.

22nd Street Station: a transit hub for the Girl and I (image courtesy of Dennis Sylvester Hurd)

But, in the two years I’ve managed it, The Girl has become a seasoned transit rider. She’s fascinated by maps, and routes and always asks where we are and where we’re going whenever she sees one. She knows that certain lines take us into town, and others take us over the bridge. She knows how to manage her bag, and where to place it when she takes her seat. She sits still. She looks out the window. She takes in the scenery. Despite her protestations, she loves the journey, the quest.

I don’t know how this will affect her as she grows. But, I hope it will encourage her to be unafraid to explore the wider world, taking a pack on her back and going out to see what she can see. Who knows? Maybe the Number 15 bus in London will be a Sweet Chariot to her, too, as it was to her Dad.

But, one thing that transit has taught me is that it’s OK to wait. It’s OK to share space with other people. And it’s OK to spend time in thought, or deep inside a book, as bus wheels and train tracks hurtle underneath.

It’s the zen of public transit, the art of revelling in solitude in the middle of the hustle and bustle. It is, in a way, a way to peace of mind. So, whether she goes no further than a few stops in all of her life, I hope that she gains this.