The Influential Ottawa
My mother, sister and I were coming home to Ottawa from a day of skiing at Camp Fortune in the Gatineau Hills. When we arrived at the Interprovincial Bridge, we found it had fallen down. The policeman told my mother we could walk across the river on the one remaining beam. We formed a line, my mother, my sister and me. My sister nearly fell and my mother wheeled around and caught her. I slyly thought that if I pretended to fall I could get my mother’s attention. So I did a fake little trip but fell screaming through the air and landed in the river. I lay at the bottom of the river feeling very calm, realizing I must be dead because I wasn’t breathing. I was surprised that death was so peaceful.
When I woke from this dream, I remembered every detail. It’s interesting to me that the first thing I thought of when asked to write an article on growing up in Ottawa was that rickety old Interprovincial suspension bridge. It is clear that the location of my nightmare came from the fact that every winter weekend we would cross the bridge to go skiing. My brothers told me if I didn’t hold my breath for the whole way across, the bridge would fall down. The details and emotions of this dream have stayed vivid in my memory nearly fifty years later. To this day I don’t really have a fear of death because of that feeling of peace on bottom of the river. I started to think of other childhood places in Ottawa that influenced who I am in some way.
Ottawa without a doubt gave me my love of nature and beauty. It surrounded me wherever I went. From the millions of tulips that lined the streets every spring, to the ice covered canal packed with skaters; to the logs floating down the Ottawa River, to the Gatineau Hills just minutes away. As a result, I have always loved road trips because I would stare out the window for hours in wonder at the beauty that surrounded me.
I was a privileged kid, I grew up in Rockcliffe Park, definitely a bubble-like existence from the reality of the tougher side of Ottawa life just five minutes away, in Beechwood. Rockcliffe was idyllic for children. I think my sense of trust came from this very sheltered life. We would play street baseball, cops and robbers and hide and seek from the moment we got home from school, till the moment the mothers called us in for dinner and then out again till bedtime. In the winter we skated at the school or tobogganed at Rockcliffe Park, which had the best hot dogs in the world. (I still prefer the squared off buns).
My love of mystery, drama and imagination came in part from the stone gate around the nearby Governor Generals’ residence. It was so secretive and closed off my imagination was whirling every time I bicycled by. I was Naninka Mackashminski, the Russian spy who would break into the grounds and discover state secrets. One of my best friends father was Trudeau’s top advisor, which I discovered only during the FLQ crisis. I came to her house one day to be stopped by twenty armed guards. My eyes couldn’t get bigger nor the plays in my head more imaginative. At the Experimental Farm I would purposefully get lost in the maze of gardens and imagine my future life as a poor orphan.
My delight in event and spectacle came in the form of the Dominion Day fireworks. Although by today’s standards probably a bit lame, Ottawa would always have the biggest budget so we were sure to be impressed as we sat on the banks of the river in Hull.
I can make a direct link to my distrust of politicians when our grade eight class visited Parliament Hill. As we entered the observation gallery we were given a long lecture on our conduct. Watching the politicians, sleeping, shouting, interrupting and insulting one another left a lasting impression on me.
I learned about peace and solitude in the Beechwood Cemetery. Here I would sit for hours under a tree and ponder my life of boys and my future as an actress. Not surprising I ended up living on Cemetery Road for seventeen years.
For Ottawa teens, the 60’s meant one thing. Hull. The drinking age in Quebec was eighteen so teens would pile in the cars on the weekend, cross the river and get plastered. However, I had a keen dislike of being one of the crowd - cliquaphobia - so in fact I ended up missing out on the “cool” things Hull had to offer. Without the Hull distraction, life was dull in Ottawa. Being a government town, the streets would roll up at 5 p.m. Partying took place in our homes. To this day, I prefer lively dinner parties to the rowdy bar scene.
Ottawa in those days had few restaurants, no nightlife, and only the musty old National Gallery for culture. Shopping consisted of Sparks Street that innovatively closed off traffic but offered nothing for fashion-obsessed teens. By the time I graduated from Ottawa U., I was itching to get out of that provincial town to see the world, which landed me in London, England for three years. I’ve had the traveling bug ever since.
Today Ottawa is a fabulous city for all ages. It has all the magic it offered to me as a child but now is hopping with theatre, music, galleries, museums, festivals, markets, restaurants, trendy shopping, and all the outdoor activities you could ever hope for.
It’s been fun making connections between childhood places that have influenced me in some way. I highly recommend it as a Canada Day parlour game.
My mother, sister and I were coming home to Ottawa from a day of skiing at Camp Fortune in the Gatineau Hills. When we arrived at the Interprovincial Bridge, we found it had fallen down. The policeman told my mother we could walk across the river on the one remaining beam. We formed a line, my mother, my sister and me. My sister nearly fell and my mother wheeled around and caught her. I slyly thought that if I pretended to fall I could get my mother’s attention. So I did a fake little trip but fell screaming through the air and landed in the river. I lay at the bottom of the river feeling very calm, realizing I must be dead because I wasn’t breathing. I was surprised that death was so peaceful.
When I woke from this dream, I remembered every detail. It’s interesting to me that the first thing I thought of when asked to write an article on growing up in Ottawa was that rickety old Interprovincial suspension bridge. It is clear that the location of my nightmare came from the fact that every winter weekend we would cross the bridge to go skiing. My brothers told me if I didn’t hold my breath for the whole way across, the bridge would fall down. The details and emotions of this dream have stayed vivid in my memory nearly fifty years later. To this day I don’t really have a fear of death because of that feeling of peace on bottom of the river. I started to think of other childhood places in Ottawa that influenced who I am in some way.
Ottawa without a doubt gave me my love of nature and beauty. It surrounded me wherever I went. From the millions of tulips that lined the streets every spring, to the ice covered canal packed with skaters; to the logs floating down the Ottawa River, to the Gatineau Hills just minutes away. As a result, I have always loved road trips because I would stare out the window for hours in wonder at the beauty that surrounded me.
I was a privileged kid, I grew up in Rockcliffe Park, definitely a bubble-like existence from the reality of the tougher side of Ottawa life just five minutes away, in Beechwood. Rockcliffe was idyllic for children. I think my sense of trust came from this very sheltered life. We would play street baseball, cops and robbers and hide and seek from the moment we got home from school, till the moment the mothers called us in for dinner and then out again till bedtime. In the winter we skated at the school or tobogganed at Rockcliffe Park, which had the best hot dogs in the world. (I still prefer the squared off buns).
My love of mystery, drama and imagination came in part from the stone gate around the nearby Governor Generals’ residence. It was so secretive and closed off my imagination was whirling every time I bicycled by. I was Naninka Mackashminski, the Russian spy who would break into the grounds and discover state secrets. One of my best friends father was Trudeau’s top advisor, which I discovered only during the FLQ crisis. I came to her house one day to be stopped by twenty armed guards. My eyes couldn’t get bigger nor the plays in my head more imaginative. At the Experimental Farm I would purposefully get lost in the maze of gardens and imagine my future life as a poor orphan.
My delight in event and spectacle came in the form of the Dominion Day fireworks. Although by today’s standards probably a bit lame, Ottawa would always have the biggest budget so we were sure to be impressed as we sat on the banks of the river in Hull.
I can make a direct link to my distrust of politicians when our grade eight class visited Parliament Hill. As we entered the observation gallery we were given a long lecture on our conduct. Watching the politicians, sleeping, shouting, interrupting and insulting one another left a lasting impression on me.
I learned about peace and solitude in the Beechwood Cemetery. Here I would sit for hours under a tree and ponder my life of boys and my future as an actress. Not surprising I ended up living on Cemetery Road for seventeen years.
For Ottawa teens, the 60’s meant one thing. Hull. The drinking age in Quebec was eighteen so teens would pile in the cars on the weekend, cross the river and get plastered. However, I had a keen dislike of being one of the crowd - cliquaphobia - so in fact I ended up missing out on the “cool” things Hull had to offer. Without the Hull distraction, life was dull in Ottawa. Being a government town, the streets would roll up at 5 p.m. Partying took place in our homes. To this day, I prefer lively dinner parties to the rowdy bar scene.
Ottawa in those days had few restaurants, no nightlife, and only the musty old National Gallery for culture. Shopping consisted of Sparks Street that innovatively closed off traffic but offered nothing for fashion-obsessed teens. By the time I graduated from Ottawa U., I was itching to get out of that provincial town to see the world, which landed me in London, England for three years. I’ve had the traveling bug ever since.
Today Ottawa is a fabulous city for all ages. It has all the magic it offered to me as a child but now is hopping with theatre, music, galleries, museums, festivals, markets, restaurants, trendy shopping, and all the outdoor activities you could ever hope for.
It’s been fun making connections between childhood places that have influenced me in some way. I highly recommend it as a Canada Day parlour game.