Dear Ontario: Musings from a Manitoban
We’ve known each other for 6 years now. We’ve been through a lot, and I’ve come to call you home. But it turns out I didn’t know you at all. You’re so much more than a tower and underdeveloped lake front. More than crack smoking mayors, shirtless joggers, and the chaos of the TTC.
From Wellington, Prince Edward County to Cambellford in the Trent Hills to the Niagra escarpment I have seen a side of you I never knew. Corn fields, berry patches, lakes and streams that go on for days. And the people… Kindness and generosity. They’ve opened their homes and most importantly their kitchen cupboards in saintly fashion.
But Ontario. We need to talk. Because for all your beauty, generous spirit and calming headwind this prairie boy is having trouble wrapping his mind around something. It’s kind of a deal breaker. Hills. See … Where I grew up we have nothing of the sort. When you put a grapefruit on the ground in Winnipeg it stays on the ground… No rolling off to the next town. And as much as I appreciate your gentle curves from the comfort of my car, now that I am encountering your topography in a more wheeled methodology the appreciation has…. Depreciated.
I’m not asking you to change. I understand you are as God made you. An escarpment is an escarpment …. There’s only so much you can do. But I can’t help but notice multiple places where your ups are immediately followed by downs … Leaving us exactly where we started. Where does that leave us? Spinning our wheels with tired legs and tired hearts.
I say this not to critique. I don’t want to be that guy. But just in case no one had ever told you the truth. You need to know. It’s getting out of control. I want you to be yourself, but maybe look to your flatter neighbours and the next time you’re shifting think….. WWMD….
What would Manitoba do.
Hugs and kisses