Edmonton Sings
The city sang to me tonight, a strange song of high-pitched whines and shuddering thumps, a song about homeless people and car engines trying to out-sound one another, a song about the city itself and everything in it.
The longer I live here, the more I understand that Edmonton is a very stereotypically masculine city. It’s a big, tough, oil-drilling alpha male. Money and things mean more to him than people or health or the wellbeing of his residents. There are times when I picture Edmonton as this huge jock, covered in dirt from his latest sporting excersize, spitting on the dorky kids (read: the people who live here) that are sitting in the bleachers. He’s been pretty nice to me so far, but I think that’s mostly because I’m below his notice.
It’s nice to be reminded that even Edmonton has a sweet caring side. It’s the side that looks like a man cradling his firstborn daughter gently in his huge arms and telling her he loves her. It’s the side that looks like a boy with a stick for a sword defending his little brother from the goblins at the bottom of the hill. It’s the side that looks like my dad.
