To the editor:
This is the sequel to my last letter wherein the Reader descends into the dark realms with a tale of possible paranoia.
Once upon a sunny shiny bright winter’s afternoon, the Reader searched the online libraries for news of the actual situation in the dark recesses and channels that allow a city to forget its strong biological neediness.
Bypassing rats and skirting strange mechanical beasts, after defeating many enemies of misdirection, the Reader located the treasure trove and revelled in the substance revealed. But, that was not to be the end of the tail ….
For, one gem inside the treasure chest brought up a perplexing question that gave the Reader an indigo funk in all its many facets.
Following a righteous map Quest guided by the Ones Who Know at the local castle, the Reader decided the matter deserved further effort.
But she had only one clue as a litmus test for any hypothesis she might wish to test — only one suggestion that reality in Revelstoke could come to be so dramatically altered so she trembled on the brink of the kind of knowledge that apple lovers celebrate while quaking (if they’re wearing boots at the time).
The clue had been found in an archival document secured deep with the Hall of Majesty against wind, rain and alien invaders – the key given by the guide was in an ancient tongue that few could decipher
But inside the chest were words of common parlance: “Nichol Road remaining the main route to the Resort lands is likely, despite the Resorts Masterplan showing a road parallel and to the south of Nichol Road as being the primary access. “
This bombshell blew the Reader’s mind and her imagination went into high gear since memory was never her strong point but she’s quite sure she doesn’t remember any right-hand turn options when going along Camozzi Castleroad into the Mountain Lands.
But the Castleroad branches just before it reaches the castle and the branch runs vaguely parallel to Nichol Road and IS South of Nichol Road so, the Reader’s brain instantly sees the Catherwood access route in a scary future Hotel Row scene reminiscent of the days of yore in Lowertown’s Red Light boardwalk of shame.
Any sensible developer would spot the potential goldmine in an instant – nothing there to stand in the way of community-building accomodation and, maybe even entertainment industries. Let the dominos fall where they may, we’ve left the horse and buggy era behind.
Sadly, prosperity of pocket does not confer the wealth of spirit that the mountains offer travellers. Reader thinks weapons against degradation are awareness of the essence of what is known to be valued and the willingness to stand up and be counted when something you care about may need protection.
And she realizes that fear of change isn’t the issue — protection of a way of life that is valued is the only litmus test that counts.
It takes time and dedication to do what the group who did our OCP some years ago did but it has helped us greatly as we moved through this decade of unbelievably fast and rocky transition. Many of the individuals who participated in that process still live here and I think they would agree that engaging in that process led them down new roads in their individual lives. I hope when the time finally comes for a clarion call to the citizenry again, both old and new residents will joyfully respond.
Their 2009 time capsule has been opened and tinkered with and the new OCPers will have to start by assembling the puzzle of changes and the web of spinoffs from them. But the full review and update process will pay off immeasurably and is overdue in my opinion since piecemeal changes in a foundational community vision document during hectic, distracted times is unlikely to pay dividends unless the decisions are made by truly holy people!
And we are only human the Reader realizes so we must struggle to work towards what we really, really, really want while also guarding against decisions that can spawn danger for those to whom we pass the opportunity to live here! Home is where the heart is as the old song says.
So now, reader of the tale of the poor Reader who read too much, come with me as we look at the map and see if the fantasy has any conceivable basis in fact.
Nah! Changed my mind! A good fantasy is every bit as credible as any alternative fact so I’ll stick my head down in the sand just before the airport where the turtles spawn and pray someone will be carrying on the legacy of the giant of a man who protected those vulnerable road-crossing turtles when he lived here and pray the changes to come go easy on the things I value here because it is my home.