At his launch last week, Mark Leslie called his new book,
Haunted Hamilton, a “love letter to
Hamilton.” A transplant to the city, Leslie, like many of us, has grown to love
the sights, sounds, people, and places this city has to offer. I couldn’t help
but swell with pride over all of these things as thousands of us took to the
streets for
Supercrawl 2012, prompting this, my own sort of love letter to the
city.
I grew up in Burlington, and fact is, a lot of
Burlingtonians simply don’t get
Hamilton. Even though my dad was born and bred in Hamilton, each car trip into
the city inevitably included the following statement when Plains Road became
York Boulevard: “Lock the doors! We’re in Hamilton!” To me, Hamilton was
gritty. It was unpolished. However, two decades would pass before I realized
these are exactly the qualities I love about this city.
I was lured to Hamilton in 2008 by the promise of
inexpensive rent and my growing love for pubs on Augusta Street and a friend’s
cozy apartment on Bold Avenue.
I was a
recent graduate, still pining over my former temporary home of Ottawa. I don’t
choose the word
pining to be
dramatic, because it was pathetically true. I spent a lot of time back then
drowning my sorrows in Caesars, thinking I’d never find a city I loved as much
as I loved Ottawa. (Note: I once used the title of this post
on my personal blog at a time when I was feeling particularly sappy about the whole move.)
I did find a city I loved as much as I loved Ottawa. In
fact, I found one I loved even more. And to my surprise, it was Hamilton in all
its gritty glory.
The slogan “You Can Do Anything in Hamilton” has been getting
a lot of attention in the past few months, and it really feels like an accurate
statement to me. Meeting people has never been easy for this shy, socially
awkward gal, but there’s something accessible about this city. There’s
something that makes us all want to meet new people, get involved, and be a
part of what is happening in this city.
A day doesn’t pass living in Hamilton where the opportunity
doesn’t arise to meet new people with the same passions and values and love for
this city, whether it’s while bent over a laptop at Mulberry or taking a sewing
class at Needleworks. And these experiences multiply further and further when
you consider social media. Who would have thought simply starting a blog and
becoming active on Twitter would eventually lead to real-life friendships,
LitLunches, and trips to book readings like tonight’s Terry Fallis launch of
Up and Down?
All of these things, and many others, floated around in my
mind while wandering around the James Street North neighbourhood on Friday and
Saturday of last weekend, listening to Terra Lightfoot, Born Ruffians, Great
Lake Swimmers, and Owen Pallett, to name only a few. I bought books at the
gritLIT booth before climbing the stairs to the Jackson Square rooftop to watch
short films and eat free popcorn. And while watching trapeze artists take to
the sky, I couldn’t help but think about how much Supercrawl has already
evolved in its short, three-year life span.
I’m not a musician. The thought of making any kind of visual
art makes me shudder. I didn’t even get around to sewing together hexagons for
the Beehive Craft Collective’s installation. Yet, I think like so many people
at Supercrawl, I didn’t feel like only a spectator. I felt part of something.
Something that’s evolving and vibrant and refreshing. I can’t wait to see what
Supercrawl 2013 brings.
