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Creatively inspired without a doubt. Who knew this little greedy mountain town had something else to give me. I had already accomplished debt, friendship and a greater value of who I am through chemically enhanced spirituality.

Creatively inspired without a doubt. Who knew this little greedy mountain town had something else to give me. I had already accomplished debt, friendship and a greater value of who I am through chemically enhanced spirituality.

Now snuggled in the twin bed, my once a laundry room/kitchenette, alpine chilled room cozily invited me to slumber. I’ve packed my room, really, with things I adore. Deep purple drapes and a chair cover my mother rustled up for me on my last trip home to Ontario, small glitter lights, photos, and my collection of colourful clothing.

The creeks and cracks of this building are unnaturally loud. The cat, Oscar, sounded like an elephant sauntering up the steps searching for a warm place alone. There were none. He never gave up though. Strangely, at 11 p.m. none of my six roommates were watching TV or playing foozeball. It’s quiet in our three level, retro, hippie house. Even the ever-revolving washing machine and the intrusively humming bathroom fan have gone to bed. I know all this because the house pipes run through my closet, which is an arm’s length from where I sit.

The Whistler Public Library is too small to be The Library in this world class resort. Global travel attracts individuals who use their intellectual skills as well as their physical skills. In my opinion, Whistler insults the intelligence of its visitors by only offering the physically inspired, the shopping for souvenirs mentality and the food and beverage mongers a way to experience this world class resort. Reading is for gathering information. Reading is tied to learning. Reading offers the thinking individual an opportunity to expand one's horizons, to compare, to appreciate and to learn.

Please consider the negative impact that the current facility has on the thinking population of visitors and permanent Whistler residents. Living in a town that ignores the opportunity of creating a respectable library is to insult these people. I recommend to the community of Whistler that they correct this oversight immediately and build a library worthy of intelligent diverse individuals. Whistler is no longer a jock mentality. Perhaps it is time to recognise the intelligent, thinking individuals who look for more than physical satisfaction when they spend their time in Whistler. Build a library to provide books and a place to read them. A library to serve the expanding community of thinking individuals who happen to read.

Janet Rough Young

West Vancouver

 

Today at Monk’s Grill, a restaurant at the base of Blackcomb Mountain, I worked. It was a relatively quiet day even though the Telus World Ski and Snowboard Festival had invaded our village. Blackcomb is not a large part in this event, besides the fact that the ski out consists of mud, slush and a direct track to Merlin’s, our business lulls now. The rain of spring and the defeat of winter brings a solemn depression across the valley, as people slowly run out of money and find no sun in sight. I was still stuck in the delight of winter ending and having some time to breath. I spent a breezy eight hour day in my management position cleaning and fixing whatever I could find. By the end of the day I was a few dollars richer with a $7 tip in my pocket. Taking a cab to my latest love interest’s house wasn’t an option. It was my reward for a day of work, or perhaps an addiction. Buying a $7 sandwich for him was his reward for calling me at work and inviting me over.

The cabbie wanted to talk, I didn’t. I had a headache from lack of H20 throughout my day.

The service industry runs on H2O but for some reason it never seems to be invited into our lives enough.

When I arrived and the door was opened for me a cloud of marijuana smoke encircled my body. The mask of incense made the air foggy and heavy. We watched a movie, giggled and playfully fought for a few hours. He is spectacular. Our time together is innocent and fresh. It’s not easy to find someone fresh and new who has been in Whistler for a while. So many seem tainted with conceit or by the society’s petrie dish. He is not. Soon, his time to go to work comes. It’s 8 p.m. and his day starts as mine winds down. A world I never knew before we met.

I find myself plopped in the middle of a bustling village, with possible events and people surrounding me. It’s exciting and there is a buzz in the air. My soul floated over to MY Place where writers were sharing short stories on Mountain Experience. I was wary and tired but something in me said to go. I did.

Here I sit now, exasperated by the fact that "no one would have guessed" that I’d be intellectually inspired today. An unbelievably accomplished line of witty, self-inspired writers each took a turn at sharing something dear to them. Not only did my fingers itch for my pen, but my mind was flailing with the "go-get-it-ness" that I had not been in touch with since school. Nothing seemed clear anymore. The hours of TV watching, the gym, even drinking with friends all seemed like a waste of time. All I wanted to do was crawl into my bed, where I am now, and write till my fingers were sore. So I did.

I can’t thank Jack Christie, Leslie Anthony, Susan Reifer, G.D. Maxwell, Bob Barnett and Michel Beaudry enough. Thank you – for taking the time to cut up some kindling, gently place it over me, blow on my ember coals, and re-start a fire that has burned strong in my soul for so long ago. Thank you – from myself and all the other lives you have touched.

Joanne Van Engelsdorp

Whistler

 

It’s amazing how fast time flies. Ten years ago this month, I was in South Africa photographing the first free election held there. It was a high point in my life to see a piece of history from a front row seat, and I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything.

Lately I’ve been thinking about the differences and similarities between what happened in South Africa in 1994, and the situation in Iraq today. Certainly, South Africa never descended into the apocalyptic chaos that Iraq and its occupiers now face, but it almost did. When I arrived in February of 1994, there was fighting in the streets, mass demonstrations, and severe political polarization. Different parts of the country were controlled by political factions and their paramilitary armies. Clashes in the township streets were common occurrences. Every morning, we would see the dead in the street from the night before, and by early afternoon, sniper fire from the large workers hostels would be a constant threat. Those who could afford it were hoarding canned food, candles, and fuel. As it turned out, it would take months to consume those supplies.

What turned the tide was the intervention of Nelson Mandela. For a man who had spent 27 years (more years than I had been alive at the time) as a political prisoner, it took incredible humility to preach reconciliation and non-violence. When things were at their darkest, he reached out to his enemies, found common ground, and brought them into the fold of the new government. Had he wanted to, he could have used the considerable might of the South African army to smash any dissent, and I often wonder that in his secret heart, he might have entertained the idea. Until a week or two before the election, that’s what it seemed, to most observers, was going to happen. As it was, the election went off mostly peacefully. One of my strongest memories was the look of pure joy on my Zulu and Indian friends’ faces as they were able to cast their first vote. Three of the reporters I was with asked me to take their pictures as they voted, and I like to imagine that those pictures still stand in their houses today.

When I think of Iraq, I can’t help think that had somebody stepped up to make peace, instead of hammering it into the people, things would be vastly different. The Bush Administration has taken a position of self-righteous aggression, and is now finding that no matter how powerful you are, you can’t fight the wind, or hold back the tide. As much as I look back in fondness at my time in South Africa, I dread the thoughts of Iraqi families with a war in front of their homes, and of 20-year-old Americans dying in the gravel and broken glass beside some crappy Baghdad road.

David Buzzard

Whistler

 

Re: The Svend Robinson Case

To paraphrase George Orwell,

"Political language and performance is designed to make lies sound truthful and thieving sound respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind."

K. C. Hill

Burnaby/Whistler

 

I’d just like to fire off a huge Thank You to everybody who came out and supported my comedy night fundraiser on Tuesday the 13th. In fact, I’ll shout out about 3,800 Thank yous as that’s the amount that was raised for the sit ski, which puts me well on my way towards my goal of $5,000.

Thanks to all who came out, but special mention has to go out to Mike Varrin and the whole GLC staff for hosting the show; you guys have always been awesome to me and I wanted to make sure you know how much I appreciate it.

The same goes for Rob Stevenson, Kelly Johnston, Kelly Maguire and the staff at Merlin’s; you guys were and always have been awesome and I am grateful for it.

Special recognition also has to go to the local companies who supported me by donating raffle prizes, which helped me raise the total while giving a lucky few supporters a great way to spend their day. Those companies are Whistler Bungee who gave a jump, Outdoor Adventure who donated an ATV tour, and Cougar Mountain who also donated an ATV tour and a Hummer tour (Get your minds out of the gutter, I’m talking about the big jeep kind of tour!)

And of course it’s fitting that one of the biggest thank yous comes at the end because it goes to the biggest supporter of the night, who surprised the hell out of me by presenting me with a huge donation at the end of the night, Mr. James Hustvedt. Thanks so much James, I never expected such a huge dose of kindness and generosity out of the blue like that.

I also want to thank Shelley Arnusch and the Pique for printing such a flattering article about the event and myself (blush).

I first moved to this town back in 1990-91, and it didn’t take me long to realize that this was my home. Whistler’s beauty comes from the mountains, trees, and lakes, but its soul comes from the crazy inmates who are running this asylum. I thank you all for your support and I will do everything I can to represent you well in 2010. Any medal I’m fortunate enough to win will be yours to share. It’s a long road to the Olympics, but I can’t think of a cooler group of people to go on a road trip with. Thank you all.

Pete Crutchfield

Vancouver/Whistler

 

The trouble with a town like Whistler is that there just aren't that many jobs. Sure, there are plenty of opportunities to serve meals, teach skiing, bang nails, caretake other people's stuff (homes, kids, skis), to fund your mountain lifestyle. But sometimes, the magic of that wears off and you find yourself slogging through service jobs hungering for more. Wondering whether satisfying that hunger will mean having to forfeit location, moving on from the Whistler bubble.

For me, getting involved with Whistler's Museum and Archives fed that need for more – more substance to my Whistler experience, more stimulation, more challenge, more sense of connectedness to place. I've met people who were here in the beginning, who founded things like the Valley Trail, the ski school, the museum, the paper; who give a great sense of perspective to Whistler 2004. People who squatted in unheated cabins, who skied here before the "resort" existed, who served on the first ski patrol with wine bladders slung over their shoulders.

It proved to me that, beneath the bling bling and the McMansions, Whistler does have soul. It does have some great stories. It has more than one dimension. I encourage every resident, however long they're here for, to dig into that treasure trove of stories, and visit, join or volunteer for the Whistler Museum and Archives.

Lisa Richardson

Pemberton

 

The Giant Used Book Sale, held on the Easter Weekend was a Giant Success! Almost $3,000 was raised, with $2,000 going to Spring Creek Community School library and $1,000 going to the library at Whistler Secondary. Thank you to all who came, saw, chose books, and made donations to such a great cause, including our generous American visitors. Thanks also go out to all those who so generously donated books. There was a great selection to choose from! Several boxes filled with books went directly into the collections at both school libraries.

Once more, huge thanks go out to IGA for allowing the sale to be held in front of the store, and to the TD Canada Trust, Nesters Market, Creekside Market and Whistler Public Library for being collection depots. The Rotary Club of Whistler Millennium again pitched in with transportation, set up and take down – thank you Gord McKeever, Garry Clifford, and Len Van Leeuwen. Special thanks go out to Jane Clifford (and truck) and Gary Pringle (and trailer).

To those who sorted and sold books – Lil Goldsmid, Alison Hunter, Libby McKeever, Kashi Richardson, Paul Cordy, Eileen Tomalty, Patti Walhovd, Jane Roberts, Carol Johnston, Rebecca Ford, Lynn Sparks, Kris Shoup, Lorraine V, Rosemary M. and Ivan Johnson – thank you so much for all your help!

And last, but not least, thank you to the Whistler Question and Pique Newsmagazine for printing articles which contributed greatly to the sale's success.

Happy reading to all!

Jane Reid (Organizer)

Whistler

 

Many thanks to everyone who made our 10th Anniversary Celebration/Cops for Kids Fundraiser a great success. We are overwhelmed by the generosity of our clients who helped us raise $2,050; you rock.

Special thanks to Devon Jones (even though he wouldn't let us have a turn with his Mountie uniform), for his good humour and going the extra mile + 700 km to send kids with cancer to summer camp.

Thanks September from 99 Reasons to Party and Ken McGee for serenading us on the bagpipes even in the driving rain.

The Black Comb Barbers