Metro Vancouver needs to get a grip on the snow

Tipperary Tomb and snow, originally uploaded by The River Thief. Copyright Ruth Seeley 2007.

Let me make myself perfectly clear: I love snow. It is, in fact, one of the things I miss most about Ontario. But as Kirk LaPointe, managing editor of the Vancouver Sun, said on Twitter last night, he moved to Vancouver to get away from this kind of weather nonsense. (He's now wondering if he should start applying for newspaper jobs in Hawaii.) Last year, when we had snow in late November, early December, I was out in Tipperary Park in New Westminster rejoicing in it and taking photos. This year, however, has been unseasonably cold and snowy, and Metro Vancouver has failed abysmally to deal with this combination.

Let's not forget, folks, that we're hosting the Winter Olympics in 2010. If this sort of weather system prevails next year and if the Vancouver Airport (with its grand total of two runways) is closed as often as it has been this year, there are going to be a lot of very angry people who've paid a lot of money for tickets reflecting internationally on our inability to get it together. There may even be some athletes who don't get to compete. (I have no worries about the Jamaican bobsled team; they'll undoubtedly be happily ensconced in Pemberton for the entire winter once again, ensuring they'll take the gold – and more power to them.)

I’m going to leave aside the issue of civic amalgamation for the moment – that’s a whole other series of blog posts. I’m hoping the economic downturn will make it abundantly clear that it’s ludicrous for Metro Vancouver to continue with its mayoral and civic redundancies, and ensure that at some point in the very near future we no longer have separate cities of Vancouver, Richmond, Burnaby, New Westminster, and Surrey (not to mention the insanity of having both a City of North Vancouver and a District of North Vancouver). Metro Vancouver needs to get with the always initially unpopular program of regional amalgamation in the same way Ottawa and Toronto did many years ago, consolidate its services and service deliveries, and put a lot of politicians and bureaucrats out to pasture.

So let’s look at some of the facts – and some of the responses to unusual weather.

Fact: Coastal British Columbia has, at points this fall and winter, had more snow dumped on it than any other part of Canada.

Fact: We don’t have a lot of snowplows, and we don’t usually need them.

Fact: The unusually hilly terrain of the Metro Vancouver area creates unique challenges not only for drivers (whose cars may or may not be equipped with snow tires), but also for public transit. I’ve got one friend who was kicked off a bus yesterday because it couldn’t make it up the hill. One of the family cars is snowed in and the other’s been towed. It’s a long, wet and slushy slog to the grocery store. I’ve got another friend with mobility challenges (she’s not supposed to walk more than three blocks without her cane) who’s started getting off the bus a mile from her house because it’s not worth the stress of worrying about whether the packed bus is going to make it up the hill or just slide gently back down it. She's also religiously shovelling the snow in front of her house in accordance with civic regulations. What's the city doing for her? Well, not a whole lot - she's starting to get cabin fever from having been snowed in for so long, and is strategically plotting when folks can visit her based on parking regulations, because her street hasn't been plowed in a month.

Fact: This means, when we get unusual weather systems, we’ve got an emergency on our hands. A crisis, even.

The brilliant mayor of Burnaby, Derek Corrigan, shot his mouth off on New Year’s Eve in an interview with CBC Online. I was so angry I drafted (but didn't send) this email to him in response to his pronouncement that we should all adjust our expectations regarding snow removal:

• 'You don’t even mention shoveling, but seem to think that professional snow removal and salt are the answers to the gridlock that’s resulted from all the snow that has accumulated in the Metro Vancouver area over the past month. Perhaps you’re aware, as I am, that there isn’t a snow shovel to be had for love or money in this area until approximately January 9, 2009. Yesterday I drove to the Rona store in Burnaby to try to buy one and then called four different Canadian Tire stores on my return home to see if they had any. I have seen hundreds of cars blocked in by snow plows in Burnaby and New West. Perhaps you should consider outreach to some of the hardware stores as part of your community education and awareness program. The ice accumulates as a result of plowing. By shoveling it out and onto the streets, much of it would have melted by now if we could get our hands on snow shovels. Instead, I am witnessing people doing extremely foolhardy things in attempts to free their vehicles, and, while I am more than willing to help out with snow removal, I am unable to do so. Is there any particular reason hardware stores can’t use couriers to get a supply of snow shovels to the places they’re most needed? Victoria and Vancouver Island have had more snow than any other place in the entire country this year to date, and while a cold winter was, indeed, predicted, I don’t recall seeing you quoted in October or November advising folks to invest in salt, shovels, or snow tires. You were, of course, busy getting re-elected during those months. And you still don’t seem to think that shoveling is part of the solution.
  
• While I understand – and agree – that greater investment in plowing equipment doesn’t make a lot of sense, perhaps cities in the Metro Vancouver area should instead come to a standing agreement with the army to help out in unusual circumstances such as those we’re experiencing this winter. I have had very grave doubts about both the wisdom of Vancouver’s seeking to host the 2010 Olympics and its ability to do so; with an attitude like yours I’m now convinced they will be a complete and utter disaster if heavy snowfall occurs in January or February of 2010. When the athletes can’t land at the Vancouver airport, we can just divert them to Calgary so they can use the facilities Calgary already has and let them participate in the ‘unOlympics.’
  
• Judging from the (to date) 73 negative comments posted, I am not alone in being annoyed by your confrontational attitude rather than problem-solving approach. I guess we’re both glad I live in New Westminster rather than Burnaby. [Within hours of my drafting this email the comments were up to 96, and they were all negative.]
  
• Perhaps you should adjust your expectations regarding re-election. I'll be moving to Burnaby to ensure I can vote for ANYONE BUT YOU.'

Then there was the brilliance of advice from Murray Wightman, City of Vancouver's manager of street operations, ‘do a rain dance.’

This was the point at which I saw red. Having been away at Christmas time, it didn’t occur to me to stock up on food that would rot while I was away. Obviously I made a huge mistake there. I’d happily stay home and pray for rain, if it weren’t for the fact that I need to make the occasional foray out for food. And if it weren’t for the fact that the people who deliver food to the grocery stores and sell the food to those able to get out, need to be able to do their jobs and get to work in order to do so.

Today I did venture out. I saw a mixture of heartwarming and ludicrous sights.

First, I noticed that the New Westminster Chamber of Commerce, which occupies a corner lot on Queens Avenue and Sixth Street, had shoveled its walkway – but not the sidewalks surrounding the building. You should be evicted from the premises for this misdemeanour, not merely fined. Second, on the block between Seventh and Sixth on Queens Avenue, only one townhouse homeowner had bothered to shovel the sidewalk in front of their house. Again – shame on you. Civic by-laws state that you must shovel your walk and have it clear by 10AM. You should not only be fined, you should be ashamed of yourselves.

Things improved once I got to the bus stop. I saw many pickup trucks without municipal logos filling their truck beds with snow to haul it away. I thought perhaps the City of New Westminster had hired contract labour to aid in badly needed snow removal, especially the spots where four-foot tall snow- and icepacks have been created by plowing. (This is causing absolute chaos because it means there’s no place left on the street to park in front of stores that sell those quaint things like fresh fruits and vegetables – I’m about ready to kill for a head of red romaine and a cucumber about now.) But after I spoke to Blair Fryer, Communications Manager for the City of New Westminster, it seems these were just Good Samaritans. It was a reassuring conversation, by the way: New West has a clear list of completely understandable priorities for clearing roads (starting with hospitals and schools), has seven snow plows that have been in constant use since this weather system began, and has fitted three additional municipal vehicles with plows and pressed them into service to clear the sidewalks.

Oh, and the first thing you see on the City of New Westminster's web site these days is a link to snow removal - an explanation of how the snow is impacting garbage pick-up - and the number to call if you're having a snow-removal related problem. That's what's called being proactive. The City of Burnaby's priorities seem to be a little whacked: yes, main arterial roads are important. But clearing a path to the hospitals, not all of which are on those main arterial roads, might be an idea too, no? And there's no invitation to call. And the City of Vancouver also features important info on garbage collection and snow removal on its home page - although by providing a nameless corporate communications phone number after you've clicked on a link listed as 'road clearing' rather than 'snow removal' you might conclude they don't really want you to call.

Here’s a little info, by the way, on the rate at which snow and ice melt. Please note: the kind of rain you’d need to melt a hard-packed four foot by four foot snowpack is the kind of deluge that will make you wish you’d built an ark. Get real, folks, a little rain is not going to solve this problem any time soon. The snow needs to be either hauled away or broken up with shovels and thrown out onto the streets to melt. Otherwise the parking and driving problems are going to persist for weeks.

Then there was the police car that parked in the laneway by the TD Bank at 6th and 6th. I saw two officers get out of the car and proceed at a pace that was both leisurely and gingerly (through the slush) towards the building that houses the bank, a London Drugs, and a Starbucks. They left their amber lights flashing, but I have a funny feeling they weren’t entering the building on official business. I could be wrong, of course. What was the result of this? Well, all the cars that tried to turn into the lane to access the parking lot were unable to get down the lane. So instead they did U-turns in the middle of the street. Luckily the little old lady in her motorized scooter shooting up the middle of the street into the oncoming traffic hadn’t yet arrived on the scene, or she would have been squashed like a bug. A third police offer came out of the Blenz on the corner and looked askance at the parked police car, so I’m thinking this was a bit of a no no. Especially since there was a parking space available on the actual street. Maybe use a little common sense before you park illegally when it isn’t an emergency.

Finally, Gregor Robertson, Vancouver’s new mayor, has  taken charge of communications on this issue, and today has asked for suggestions on how the city should deal with snow removal.

So here are a few:

• See above email to Derek Corrigan re availability of snow shovels. You need to get local merchants organized to deliver them to folks who need them. I don’t ever again want to see a grown man and two seven-year-old boys shoveling out a car that’s been buried under two weeks’ worth of snow while they were away over the festive season with tiny plastic beach shovels.
• Hire a streets manager from a part of the province that actually knows how to deal with snow removal – or from out of province. And then media train him so he doesn’t make the whole city look foolish.
• Consult with places like Owen Sound, Ontario, which is extremely hilly, and six years ago was pioneering a road coating that would melt snow as it falls, thus obviating the need for plowing and salt distribution. You can’t sell an Ontario car for love or money in British Columbia because rumour has it that they’re all rusted out from the amount of salt used in Ontario. Get over yourselves: Ontarians want their cars to last just as long as British Columbians do, and have been working hard to minimize the amount of salt used on roads.
• Synchronize the budgets for parking offenses and snow removal, and use the revenues from the former to subsidize the latter. I can’t help but be offended at the fact that my car was towed when the streets were dry because my bumper cast a shadow on the six-foot-wide crosswalk, but the cars that drove into snowbanks at Christmas time and angle parked in loading zones were allowed to stay there for up to 96 hours.
• Tap into the Good Samaritan in all of us by making it possible for us to help. I actually like shoveling snow. If I could actually get my car to the Home Hardware at Graveley and Commercial Drive that has a stash of snow shovels, I’d be helping out. But I’m not taking two buses uphill the entire way and a Skytrain that may or may not be working in order to do so.
• Finally, post a list of food delivery services on city web sites. If you’re asking us to stay home, accept that sooner or later we’re going to need to replenish our food supplies. There ARE grocery delivery services. Remind us we can use them rather than endanger our lives.
  

Finding one's (northern) (southern) (eastern) (western) voice - another reason I blog

Copyright Ruth Seeley 2007.

I made reference, a couple of blog posts ago, to the fact that I'll be attending Northern Voice, the Vancouver blogging conference, later this month. It runs from Thursday, February 21 to Saturday, February 23. http://2008.northernvoice.ca/

The kick-off dinner is being held this year in the Polynesian Room at Vancouver's Waldorf Hotel http://www.critiki.com/cgi-bin/location.cgi?loc_id=196, and I am really looking forward to it. (Last year's was held in the gorgeous Volunteer Vancouver building on Main Street, I believe - should have gone, I heard rumours of fountains of chocolate or chocolate swans or something equally extravagant.)

I also made a comment, in my previous blog post, that I was going to attend for the second year, despite having had a really miserable time at last year's conference. Some of it was my fault, some of it was a case of 'I should just have stayed in bed today' and some of it rests squarely on the conference organizers, or at least those tasked with event planning.

Northern Voice (the conference itself), is held at UBC's Forestry Building. For those of you who've never visited the UBC campus - it's huge. It's freaking huge. The UBC population is almost 10 times bigger than Kincardine, the small southwestern Ontario town in which I lived for a year before moving to BC in 2002. And I managed to get lost there for months. The estimates I've seen are that UBC has a student, staff and faculty population of 50,000. It is a vast expanse of land. What can I say - they didn't call it the Wild West for nothing. The only place I can really find with ease at UBC is its marvellous bookstore, and that's only when the roads aren't completely torn up and I don't have to take six detours.

It was pissing rain on the Saturday of Northern Voice 2007. Yes it's Vancouver, and I am actually one of the few people I know who don't mind the rain here and don't complain about it much, even though I've always thought snow was the smarter form of precipitation. Snow doesn't get you wet and it's - well - it's usually much more scenic than rain. Still, it was Toni Onley's dreamy coastal landscapes I had in mind when I moved here. This was unusual rain for Vancouver though - hard rain - big drops that really got you wet. I think of this as Eastern rain rather than Western rain. Mean rain. Purposeful rain. Its purpose being to mess you up in a quest to replenish the water table as quickly as possible.

For some inexplicable reason, the bus driver I had was not familiar with UBC campus and couldn't help me find the Forestry Building. This is the point at which I step up to the plate and acknowledge that I could have done my 'how to get there' research instead of just glancing at the map and assuming the bus driver would know his or her route. And that I could have left the house earlier.

As it happened though, I ended up wandering in the aforementioned pissing rain, waiting for another bus that would actually take me to the Forestry Building, getting myself into a completely foul temper, and arriving an hour late for the conference.

So - off to a bit of a rough start. I ran into a few people I knew and attended two sessions, both of which were interesting. Then it was lunch time. I quailed at the prospect of heading back out into that mess, so armed myself with the map listing all the area lunch venues. Most of them were at least a quarter-mile's hike from the Forestry Building. Many of them were much, much further away. I had already noticed that the Tim Horton's in the building itself wasn't open weekends, and thought it odd that they hadn't made an exception for a weekend when a conference was going on. Surely it would have been worth their while to open up on a Saturday just this once? While I'm not a fan of Tim's, some hot soup and a sandwich would have been really nice. I might even have been able to forget my wet socks in the convivial atmosphere of Tim's.

But no. Muttering to myself about it being one of those days I was going to get soaked four times (to and from the conference, to and from lunch), I headed for the next-nearest provision-providing venue, Starbucks. A latte and a pumpkin scone would have been just fine. On the way to the Starbucks I noticed an independent corner store and thought, oh, I don't care what their sandwiches are like, this is a better idea than Starbucks. Apparently not. The store had been robbed earlier in the day and the police were still conducting their investigation. Even though I had cash, the store owners had been forbidden to conduct business until the police wrapped up their investigation. Starbucks it was, then.

Obviously I wasn't the only person who had taken public transit to the conference, and great minds do think alike (fools seldom differ). I've never seen a Starbucks slammed the way that one was. And no one looked happy, which is most unusual. Didn't take long to figure out why. There was no food. I mean, there may have been one of those cinnamon straws. But other than that, the glass display case was pretty much empty. The Northern Voice organizers had failed to notify Starbucks that there was a conference going on. The staff were bewildered and embarrassed. Run off their feet too, since they'd been unexpectedly slammed.

So I had a latte, which I think I consumed perched on a cement planter in a courtyard that provided some shelter from the rain, and thought about going back to the conference. And I decided not to. The wet socks were starting to get to me, and I was beginning to feel murderous thoughts.

This year's going to be different. A lot different. For one thing, I'll be driving or being driven. For another, I know where the Forestry Building is. I'm also going to give the Starbucks a call myself and make sure they know there's a conference going on. I might even call the Tim Horton's and suggest they open up on Saturday. I've already done the feedback thing* for Northern Voice 2007 and mentioned these issues, so perhaps my phone calls will be reminders only, if the organizers took my advice. If they didn't, I'm not taking any chances.

Which brings me to the third reason why I blog. In my post 'Columnists I Like' I talked about the joy of writing freedom. That freedom doesn't matter much until and unless you have truly found your voice as a writer. When I first worked in public relations I was amazed at how difficult it was to master the right tone and style of PR writing. I'd written poetry, short stories, book reviews, magazine articles, ad copy, research and non-research essays, part of a screenplay...this writing thing wasn't really a problem for me. I've kept a copy of my first case study, which went through about 45 drafts before it was finalized, as one of my writing samples. I had significant editing help from at least two of my colleagues. A red pen was used, until my always expressive face assumed a rather stricken look. A black pen was substituted for the red. That didn't really help my ego much. And then, finally, something clicked for me and I was able to rewrite the case study myself and get it approved. Everything became a lot easier after that.

Looking back, this is how I'd describe it. Have you ever worn cowboy boots? I've only owned one pair, and I'm not sure what happened to them, but I'm quite sure I cried when I got rid of them. I loved them. I loved them when I first saw them in the store and I loved wearing them. There was a two-week period when I first started wearing them though, when I actually contemplated cutting off my feet. I've never had blisters on the tops of my feet before. I've never had blisters on my heels that bled. I've never stacked bandaids one on top of each other to try to prevent further damage and a little cushioning just so I could get through the breaking in process.

Mastering another form of writing - and a difficult one - was like breaking in those cowboy boots. Ultimately it was worth the struggle. Much to my surprise, writing is a skill that continues to develop the more of it you do. I'd add, 'as long as you continue to read good writing,' as my one caveat. A couple of years after my first case study, the receptionist at work got a call from someone asking to be put through to the company's best writer. My boss wasn't in, so she directed the call to me. Turns out it was a headhunter, and while the lovely Diana was outraged at being tricked this way, it was pretty hard for me not to giggle with sheer joy at the compliment she'd paid me.

I remember a client objecting strenuously to a press release and demanding to know why we'd chosen to use each and every phrase and structured it the way press releases are properly structured. I'm not sure what possessed me, but I do know we'd sweated over this release (our 'best teams' approach wasn't quite working in this instance, I'm afraid). I couldn't help myself. Even though I was the most junior person there, I had to be the one to justify our approach. And I did, mounting an extremely convincing case for why the release needed to be left alone if the client's goals were to be met. That release and the subsequent media relations we did with it led to the longest feature coverage I've ever helped generate.

And that was the point at which I realized I had found my voice as a writer. While I may not understand it on a conscious level when I begin to write, whatever method I have, whether it's research or an outline or that weird form of subconscious analysis that happens when you absorb a new form of writing by osmosis from reading, reading, reading...I now know there's no form of writing I can't master. One of the best things I learned at my former agency was to stop being neurotic about my writing. The collective writing approach used in a PR agency means you can't be too proprietary about your work. If you were to have a hissy fit every time something you wrote got changed, you wouldn't make it through the probationary period. There's no room for that sort of journalistic ego in PR writing, and there's also no time for it. The sort of jockeying for position (front page, please, and if not that, I'll settle for a section front page) that goes on at newspapers won't cut it. The learning process may be painful. Hair may be pulled. Tears may be shed. Paper may well be crumpled and flung. (Gee, I manage to make a pretty much silent activity seem quite melodramatic, don't I?)

Then, of course, once you have found your voice, you must use it. Or lose it. And so, I blog....

* As you can see from the first link I've posted, the organizers have listened and are including lunch! Oh, it's so nice to be listened to. Heeded. To have one's views taken into account. I'm still calling Starbucks to give 'em a heads up though.