The Gateway Magazine - December 2018

THE HOME ISSUE

Published since Nov. 21, 1910 Circulation: 3,500 ISSN 0845-356X Suite 3-04 8900 114 St. NW University of Alberta Edmonton, Alberta T6G 2J7 Advertising www.f-media.ca

DECEMBER 2018

Editor-in-Chief Arts & Culture Editor Oumar Salifou Jonah Dunch Managing Editor Sofia Osborne

Opinion Editor Andrew McWhinney

Art Director Staff Reporter Jessica Tang Adam Lachacz Photo Editor Director of Finance Richard Bagan & Administration Lukas Adomonis Online Editor Victoria Chiu Webmaster Papa Gyeke-Lartey News Editor Nathan Fung

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GSJS The Gateway is published by the Gateway Student Journalism Society (GSJS), a student-run, autonomous, apolitical not-for-profit organization, operated in accordance with the Societies Act of Alberta.

Copyright All materials appearing in The Gateway bear copyright of their creator(s) and may not be used without written consent.

ILLUSTRATION DANIELLE MCBETH “COZY NIGHTS”

DEAR READER, Where do you feel most at home? In the house you grew up in? Your neighbourhood? Your residence?

Your land? Your body? Your art?

It turns out our writers had a lot to say about home, and their stories became the central focus of this issue. You’ll see that the visuals have taken more of a back seat, especially compared to our November food issue.

We’ve tried to show that while home can be cozy and nostalgic, it can also be serious. Home can be something felt in absence, from a house in Fort McMurray to a student leader and musician who was at the heart of the campus community. Home can be found in each other when your land is lost or threatened.

This issue is a patchwork of shifting pieces. We hope you find meaning in the way they’ve been pasted together, how they overlap and contrast. We hope you find home. g

Jessica Tang Sofia Osborne

Art Director Managing Editor

DECEMBER 2018 | 3

CONTENTS ILLUSTRATION ISABELLA FUCCARO

NOTES

fill a gap in your program

06

Student Habitats

08

Redefining Home

10

Breaking the Bubble

Find out what spots on campus make people feel at home.

Figure out what home means when you’re away from it.

Learn about a student group tackling homelessness in Edmonton.

Student Admission: $10 ($8 Matinée) Metro Cinema is a community-based non-profit society devoted to the exhibition and promotion of Canadian, international, and independent film and video. metrocinema.org All-You-Can-Eat-Cereal Cartoon Party DEC 8 @ 10AM It’s that special time to relive the exciting Saturday Morning ritual of non-stop retro cartoons, and binge on the multi-colored sugary cereals! The cartoon lineup is always a mystery, but you’ll see both Holiday faves and obscurities, all punctuated with vintage commercials and PSAs!

Await Further Instructions DEC 16 @ 9:30PM, DEC 19 @ 9:30PM

Athabasca University has over 850 courses to choose from to meet your needs and courses start every month. AU has over 6,600 transfer agreements around the world (including with this institution).

When the Milgram family awake Christmas morning to discover a mysterious black substance surrounding their house, and a single line of text on television: “Stay Indoors and Await Further Instructions”. Simmering tensions escalate into a deadly power struggle.

Roma

December 26 - January 10 Alfonso Cuarón has demonstrated an uncanny ability to reflect on the human condition while offering boldly entertaining cinematic experiences. Shot on 65mm in black and white, the semi-autobiographical Roma chronicles a year in the life of a middle-class family in Mexico City in the early 1970s.

Metro Cinema at the Garneau 8712-109 Street | metrocinema.org

Metro Cinema receives ongoing support from these Arts Funders:

REQUIRED READING

12

Still Here

14

Beautiful and Lasting Things

16

“Heard Before” and “Roommate”

18

Campus Doors

Learn about three PhD candidates’ work on Indigenous relationships and sexuality.

Take a walk through Chinatown South.

Let the love leak out.

Enter here.

FEATURES

20

Remembering Luke

26

Ashes to Art

Celebrate the life of a student leader and musician, gone too soon.

Read about a journey of building resiliency after the Fort McMurray wildfire.

DIVERSIONS

32

Horoscopes

34

Crossword

36

Comics

Find out what December has in store for you.

Test your knowledge of miscellaneous home-related things.

Laugh at three artists’ takes on home.

DECEMBER 2018 | 5

contributors ILLUSTRATION JERALDINE CHONG

HUGH BAGAN

OLIVIA DEBOURCIER

“March of the Passengers” Hugh is a third-year computing science student. His comic this month is a spoof of the film March of the Penguins. Make sure to read it out loud with your best David Attenborough impression.

“Roommate” illustration and “Plant Mom” Olivia is in her third year of environmental and conservation science and has spent the last year and a half writing and illustrating for The Gateway.

She would happily talk your ear off about animals or environmentalism or which Star Wars movie is the best — but she’s usually running to a meeting she’s already late for.

ADRIANNA CHONG “Student Habitats” illustration Adrianna is a fourth-year visual communication design student with a passion for problem-solving and social design. For her piece in this issue, she wanted to explore using three-dimensional type to create an association between the word “home” and a physical place.

JERALDINE CHONG Contributors illustration Jeraldine is a fourth-year art and design major with a double minor in film studies and arts and cultural management. In other words, she doesn’t know what she’s going to do after graduation. But that’s okay.

Until then, she’ll sleep whenever she can, make art wherever she can, and eat as much as she can.

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REBECCA LAI “Ashes to Art” Rebecca is a fourth-year visual communication design student. In the feature for this issue, she wrote about growing up in Fort McMurray and how she used the creative process to heal from the wildfire disaster.

In her other works, she explores cultural identity, advocating for diversity, and nostalgia.

DANIELLE MCBETH “Cozy Nights” and “Heard Before” illustration Danielle is a fifth-year student in the design program with a focus on visual communication design and sociology. In her spare time (if she has any), she enjoys reading and taking her dog on long walks, and has recently taken up film photography.

ISABELLA FUCCARO Contents illustration Isabella is a fifth-year art and design student with a focus on printmaking and video game design.

Outside of art, she enjoys time with her dog and eating good food. Her piece is inspired by the classic saying, “Home is where the heart is.”

FEO P - S Horoscopes and crossword Feo is a fourth-year psychology and sociology double major setbacks have been affecting construction off the press — hot, delicious ramen and women, ladies and gentle smacks on the cheek turned the other day we saw a murmuration of swallows in the fields at sunset in our ways.

COLBY CLAIR STOLSON “Roommate” and “Heard Before” Colby spent 12 years of his life in Ponoka growing upwards. Every day he asks himself, “Who knows if the moon’s a balloon?” He’s in his final year of an English degree.

CLAIRE SONG “Breaking the Bubble” Claire is a first-year student in the collaborative nursing program who is passionate about bubble tea and helping others. If she’s not in ECHA studying for anatomy, she can be found watching Grey’s Anatomy, playing dodgeball with her floormates, or wasting meal plan flex dollars at Teapsy.

KATE TURNER “Redefining Home” Kate is a first-year native studies major who is passionate about chocolate, learning languages, human rights, and a specific shade of Calgary Transit yellow. She can usually be found hiding in Cameron Library or hanging out with her floormates, hoping to say something worthy of the quote wall one day.

ALEXANDER VINCENT “The Key” Alexander is a fourth-year fine arts student. The key to making a good comic, he says, is that the best choices are usually right in front of you.

DECEMBER 2018 | 7

NOTES

WHERE ON CAMPUS DO YOU FEEL MOST AT

ILLUSTRATION ADRIANNA CHONG TEXT ANDREW MCWHINNEY

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NOTES

Here’s what students had to say: “The Humanities Centre. I find it cozy and quiet beca-use it has many places where you can go to study in private. There are couches on the third floor where you can rest and sit around chatting with friends. The plants on the third floor make you forget about the cold weather outside and create a relaxing environment. It’s also right next to HUB, so if you’re hungry, you can easily walk there to buy food.”

Stephanie Hrazdil, arts II “I feel most at home among the water feature and nature of the arts quad. They make me feel calm and at ease.”

Chantael Southron, psychology II “Nothing makes me feel more at home and comfortable on campus than crashing beside the SUB fire on a cold day. Snuggled up on a comfy chair, thawing my feet and sipping a coffee? That’s homey.”

Hanna Garvey, physiology II “The Tory/Business atrium, specifically around 4 p.m. when it starts to quiet down. It’s a nice balance between wanting to study in a café setting with Second Cup in the background, but still being able to people-watch when studying becomes unbearable.

The sounds of the cafe are the perfect soundtrack for the thinning crowd of slow-moving students, combining to make a very soothing study space.”

Chantelle Freitas, psychology II “There is no place on campus that makes me feel at ‘home.’ I take pride in my adaptability as an international student, but to me, the concept of ‘home’ is something close and personal. ‘Home’ is a place that is humid, rainy, flavoured by petrichor and nostalgia, and full of family. No place on campus could possibly come close to that for me until the day my perception of ‘home’ changes.”

Atharv Vhora, computing science III “The pedway between Cameron Library and CAB. The bright floor-to-ceiling windows on either side make it feel like I’m outside while still being cozy and warm (watching a snowstorm here is magical). The plush couches with prevalent stains add a level of familiarity unmatched anywhere else on campus, while the coffee aromas and soft sounds of early 2000s music from Starbucks complete the feeling.”

Maclean Forbes, crop science IV

“My lab: the Rehabilitation Robotics Laboratory! It feels like home because we can all relax in a safe space to study and work on our research, and we are all good friends with each other. I look forward to my time in the lab every day; I probably spend more time here than at my apartment.”

Sydney Hampshire, rehabilitation science (MSc) I “Quad is my favourite place on campus. Just being in the center of it all gives me a sense of community and belonging!”

Prachi Shah, physiology IV “After spending the summer in CCIS doing stats, I let out a sigh of relief when my class was in the Humanities Centre. The brick walls, wooden benches, and dim lighting evoke a warm, cozy feeling, and colourful lights in the ceiling brighten up the space, adding a certain playfulness to the area. Walking past the offices of the English department always makes me feel at home.”

Rosalind Fleischer-Brown, psychology IV “Everything about Rutherford North makes it a good place to go when I get too overwhelmed: it’s quiet, it has lots of comfy seating, and it’s (usually) bed bug free. It strikes a good balance between the stifling silence of Rutherford South and the sheer chaos that is Cameron. The U of A is a big and noisy place, and sometimes I just need to disappear into a maze of books for a while.”

Christine McManus, psychology III “I feel most at home in front of a whiteboard. The one right in front of Rutherford Library where everyone writes their answers to a weekly question. A lot of the answers are silly but some are quite nice and when read as a whole, it reminds me of the wonderful community I’m in.”

Robert Lee, English III “My favourite place to hang out on campus is Dewey’s.

It’s the perfect place to gab, play pool (even if you’re bad at it like me), and eat nachos. Plus, they do free coffee refills!” g Annie Wildemann, English and women’s and gender studies III

DECEMBER 2018 | 9

NOTES

TEXT KATE TURNER PHOTO RICHARD BAGAN

Redefining Home The internal conflict of a student in residence.

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NOTES

After class, I walk in the door, finally home. I’m greeted by smiling faces, looking up from homework.

“How was your day?” they ask as I drop my bag on the ground and myself on the couch. I tell them about the midterm that went terribly and the midterm that went okay and the midterm that I still have to study for, and they listen sympathetically, unconditionally.

Eventually they all go back to their tasks, and as I watch them I remember a similarly sunny afternoon, light filtering through the windows, making the air seem soft and warm. I come into the familiar entryway of my childhood home after a day of school and kick off my shoes. From the dining room table, my sister looks up from her homework and my mom smiles from her laptop on the counter. I fall onto the couch and recount the day’s events, even the most mundane details, and they listen.

It’s at this point that I come to a sticking place.

These two experiences feel so similar, yet they come from very different places in my life. It’s this contradiction that, for some reason, makes me uncomfortable with categorizing both experiences as “home.” There’s a strong distinction in my mind between where I live, Lister Centre, and where home is, Calgary. If I were asked, “Where is home?” my immediate answer would be the blue and white twostory on the cul-de-sac; the place where I cried over IB math, played Hunger Games in the backyard with my sister, and discovered indie music. But at what point does my answer change to “right here?”

It’s hard, because living in residence isn’t the same as a non-stop sleepover. The people I live with on my floor have seen me without makeup after a late night, stress-eating jelly beans at my desk, and washing dishes singing ABBA at the top of my lungs.

Living together 24/7 seems to shed the formalities and boundaries of normal friendship and create a new kind of relationship. I mostly find myself using the term “new family.”

During the Thanksgiving long weekend, I went back to Calgary for the first time since moving away.

“Did you bring back that shirt you stole from me?” my sister asks as she watches me make my old bed.

“No,” I laugh, “I left it back at home.” I pause. Home.

The word slipped out automatically, and it feels both natural and deeply wrong as I stand in the one place I’ve invariably considered mine. While I’ve made deep connections in Lister and created this new community, calling it home still feels like a betrayal.

Maybe what I’m struggling with is the feeling that if my home moves, I am cutting an invisible

tie with my family, my friends, and my past. Maybe that’s what makes this such a hard, sometimes circular, debate. Maybe that’s why I can say I have both a family and a new family and yet somehow still feel torn. It feels like calling Edmonton home finalizes all of my experiences back in Calgary, making me officially “moved out.” While I don’t live there anymore, I don’t feel ready to cut the cord completely.

There’s still a lot I don’t know yet. Can I come to peace with myself and forge my own identity, a mix of everywhere I’ve been and everywhere I’m going?

While I’ve made deep connections in Lister and created this new community, calling it my home still feels like a betrayal.

What if the answer is simple? Home is Calgary, home is Edmonton. Living in Edmonton doesn’t make me less of a Calgarian; it doesn’t strip me of my intimate knowledge of the complex transit system, my connections with all of the people I love, or my home address. But I can also embrace everything about living in Edmonton — especially the creation of a “new family” and a new home base from which to have my next adventures.

When you ask me where I’m going for Christmas, my answer will invariably be home. But if you see me in Calgary waiting for the bus back to Edmonton on January 1, I’ll smile and tell you that I’m on my way home too. g

DECEMBER 2018 | 11

NOTES

BREAKING

PHOTO RICHARD BAGAN TEXT CLAIRE SONG

THE BUBBLE A student group’s efforts to tackle homelessness.

Above: Multiplying Equality’s annual Street Store

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Whether they’re huddled over textbooks in the library or having a much-deserved nap on the SUB couches, it can feel like university students are in a bubble. But members of Multiplying Equality (ME), an outreach organization at the University of Alberta, aspire to change that.

Currently in its fourth year, ME was created primarily as a means for students to fight social injustice and realize that they, as people of privilege, could make a difference in their community.

“I’ve been part of the group since the beginning, and I’m basically emotionally invested,” said Kasun Medagedara, a fifth-year science student who is ME’s current president. “It delivered something that

NOTES

NOTES

I didn’t find in other groups on campus. There’s no fluttery language — I get to see the impacts right in front of me.”

One of the club’s biggest initiatives is their annual Street Store, an event in collaboration with Boyle Street Community Services. This year’s event was held on October 20.

At the one-day pop-up store, the homeless community has the opportunity to choose from clothes donated across the campus and city. This year, ME received a $20,000 donation from Kunitz Shoes, the biggest sponsorship the group has ever received.

“I think everyone has this idea that homeless people will take anything,” Medagedara said. “But they all have different likes and personalities, and it’s not like we dish out clothes in rations. They get a choice, and I think that’s empowering.”

Events like Street Store aim to break common stigmas about the homeless community. But working right alongside them can make some volunteers feel uncomfortable, said Lydia Mutoni, the club’s marketing executive and a second-year nursing student. She said it breaks them out of their bubble and strips them of preconceived notions about homeless people.

“When I went to Street Store last year, I just stood in a corner because I didn’t know how to do anything and I was scared to talk to most people,” she recalled. “But once you do start talking to [members of the homeless community], you realize that this is just a regular person, who unfortunately is in a circumstance that they might not want to be in.”

ME also organizes other outreach programs, like collaborating with the Somali Canadian Women and Children Association to educate immigrant families about post-secondary opportunities.

“Many of us in the club are from immigrant families, and we were able to do projects targeting these immigrant families,” Mutoni said. “We showed that there are bigger opportunities and that you can chase a dream in Canada. You’re not limited to your own cultural background and language barriers.”

Other initiatives include Community Clean Cuts, where the Est-elle Academy of Hair Design provided free haircuts and styling to community members.

They’ve also put on social events to bring together youth from different communities, including homeless youth, and on Valentine’s Day, they sold cards and carnations to support the U of A Sexual Assault Centre.

“You never really think about how a haircut or getting a beard shaved can make an impact,” Mutoni said. “You might [just] go into a salon and get it done.

For others, not having that opportunity can leave them feeling impoverished, so what they bring out to the world might not be their best foot forward.”

In addition to the club itself, ME runs a nonprofit apparel line. The line was originally one of the group’s main focuses — they were inspired to create something that represented the spirit of volunteering and outreach. Eventually, it became a means to fund ME activities. Every dollar from clothing purchases goes directly into ME’s outreach programs, paying for things like underwear for the Street Store. Additionally, for every apparel item sold, ME delivers a “benefit bundle” of hygiene items to the community.

“It’s kind of nice to see some random people wearing our logo at the mall sometimes or out and about as well,” Medagedara said. “I think our branding and design is fairly strong; it looks clean and professional, which also draws many people to the group.”

In the future, ME hopes to expand from a student-run club into an organization that can provide services across Canada.

“We often complain about homework, while someone else is complaining about not getting enough food,” Mutoni said. “There’s more to life than complaining about minimal problems — my stomach is filled, I get to take a warm shower every day with warm water and come to a building just to study while someone else is struggling to get a cup of coffee in the morning.”

Currently, ME has about 400 general members.

Students interested in joining the cause can sign up for the group’s mailing list to stay updated on opportunities and general meetings. This year, the club is hoping to have more volunteer outings to connect students with hands-on and interactive opportunities off campus.

“I don’t know what impact [our volunteering] has on a person. I wish we could see the long-term impact on these people because what we think they need, as privileged people, could be completely different from what they actually need,” Mutoni said.

“There’s always room for improvement.” g

DECEMBER 2018 | 13

REQUIRED READING

Still Here TEXT ADAM LACHACZ PHOTO RICHARD BAGAN

Three Indigenous PhD candidates are deepening understandings of what home can mean.

LEFT TO RIGHT: MOLLY SWAIN, BRITTANY JOHNSON, AND KRISTEN LINDQUIST

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REQUIRED READING

How can the Métis find home despite their landlessness? How can Indigenous peoples reclaim their sexuality? Three University of Alberta PhD candidates are exploring these questions.

Molly Swain, from the faculty of native studies, is focusing on exploring traditional Métis understandings of relationships as a source of political strength. Rather than believing that things will change in terms of relations with the Canadian government, Swain thinks the Métis need to focus on finding more meaningful relationships with each other.

“The Métis people have a history of not having land or of being pushed out of traditional areas,” she says. “Today, there is a lack of federally sanctioned land properties that the Métis people can use. I’m seeking to demonstrate that the wahkotowin, the relational responsibilities that underpin Métis governance, can be fulfilled by a complete reimagining of Métis landlessness.”

Swain says by looking at how the Métis have historically used relationality, she hopes to help them return to this understanding. In the past, she says that if there was ever a battle, those who survived would adopt and take care of the children of those who were killed. This would be a form of “living” treaty-making.

“This understanding of treaty-making is dynamic, restorative, and positive. It comes with obligations and responsibilities that go beyond… the contractual way that the colonial state understands treaties,” she says. “The state sees what is required by the law and does only what is required.”

Some contemporary Métis have lost this understanding, Swain says, and have fallen into the state’s understanding of relationality. She hopes her research can uncover this legacy of home as more than just the land beneath one’s feet. She wants to explore how Métis sovereignty can be present in other forms of relations like in kinship, care, mutual aid, and solidarity.

“While the Métis do not have specific land now, they are in a position of strength and opportunity to enact a unique governance model through kincentered self-determination,” she says.

Kristen Lindquist, from the faculty of native studies, and Brittany Johnson, from English and film studies, are working together on the Beaver Hills

Burlesque Collective as part of their PhD work as a way to engage in an “ethical, entertaining, sexy, and educational decolonial project.” The burlesque performances and workshops are put on regularly for Indigenous and non-Indigenous people to come and experience the healing power of movement and to “enjoy their body in all its original beauty.” Through this work, they hope to make a lasting contribution to safe spaces in the dialogue of Indigenous sexualities.

“Dr. Tracy Bear [an assistant professor in the faculty of native studies] always says, ‘If this is my body, where are my stories?’ Colonialism took a lot from Indigenous peoples, including our way of articulating sexuality, gender, and sensuality,” Lindquist says. “We are trying to open the door for further conversation — to show that sexuality is one way of envisioning a past, present, and most importantly a future for Indigenous peoples.”

Johnson began her studies by looking at beadwork as a text to talk about decolonizing sexuality, while Lindquist focused on burlesque as a vehicle to restore Indigenous understandings of gender and sexuality. The two joined together to complement each other’s work.

“Often people forget the trauma that has been inflicted on Indigenous sexuality,” Johnson says.

“Our project is trying to heal this, one workshop or performance at a time.”

Lindquist adds that Indigenous people, through government policies like the Indian Act and residential school system, have had their traditional understandings of gender and sexuality suppressed.

“Right now, an intergenerational trauma that many Indigenous people face is that sex is not talked about openly or seen in its traditional sense,” she explains. “There should be no private-public divide when it comes to speaking about Indigenous sexual experiences. We have just been taught to keep these issues inside, which is incredibly harmful. Our work hopes to change this precedent and really help Indigenous and non-Indigenous people alike to see that talking about sexuality and gender is healthy.”

Indigenous people believe everyone is a container, Lindquist says. Indigenous peoples’ history has been filled with hardship and loss, which affects the way they view their own sexuality, but it’s not just a tragic story.

“I want to hold space for anger and grief, but also joy and pleasure,” she says. “I hope others will be inspired to do the same.” g

DECEMBER 2018 | 15

REQUIRED READING

Beautiful and Lasting Things With the Harbin Gate gone, artists rally to defend Chinatown South from “cultural erasure.”

PHOTO ANDREW MCWHINNEY TEXT JONAH DUNCH

I’m looking across 97 Street from the eastern face of Canada Place. Nook Café is housed under some nondescript offices, while, clinging to the side of Grierson Hill, the Shaw Conference Centre overhangs the river valley. The downtown arts district lies to the north, clustered around Churchill Square as if to form an east-facing gate to Edmonton’s civic centre.

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Yet only a block east of 97 Street stands a very different world within downtown — a world whose existence is even more precarious than the Shaw’s grip on Grierson Hill. This is a neighbourhood whose weighty history is held up by concrete columns and sealed under cascading roofs. This is Chinatown South — and unlike the arts district, it’s now missing its gate.

“What’s really cool about Chinatown is it’s this sort of portal to other places,” says Kathryn GwunYeen Lennon. “So even if you’re in a different city, you can find similar elements in the different Chinatowns and pick up the thread of the conversation.”

Kathryn and her friend Paul Giang are urban planners. Kathryn’s mother, Wai-Ling Lennon, is a retired Mandarin-language elementary school teacher, leading an oral history project to document the lives of Chinese Edmontonian elders. All three are members of Aiya Collective, a group of Chinese Edmontonian artists. For each of them, Chinatown South represents home, yet Giang says people often don’t realize Chinatown South exists.

This confusion — or ignorance — largely stems from Chinatown’s circuitous history. In the 1970s, several Chinese Edmontonian businesses flanking 97 Street (the “Old Chinatown”) were demolished to build Canada Place. Efforts to rebuild Chinatown led to “Chinatown South,” a collection of institutional buildings in Boyle Street that became the Chinatown community’s cultural heart. Animated by an influx of Vietnamese Chinese families fleeing the Vietnam War, including Giang’s, the commercial heart of Chinatown migrated north to 107 Avenue, where Chinatown North now rubs shoulders with Little Italy.

When I meet with Wai-Ling, Kathryn, and Giang, we walk east from Nook Café to reach the Edmonton Chinatown Multicultural Centre. The Chinese Elders’ Mansion is next door. Its residents are used to crossing 102 Avenue to reach different community buildings, but now a chain-link fence and a chasm of disrupted concrete stand in their way.

In a few years’ time, the Valley Line LRT will run across this avenue. Its station will open near the former site of the Harbin Gate, a gift of Harbin (Edmonton’s sister city in China). The gate was removed on November 4, 2017 to make way for construction. On March 17, 2017, Aiya Collective held a vigil to mourn the gate’s removal, hanging flags with

REQUIRED READING

handwritten messages on the fence barring access to the construction site. The gate has been moved to a city storage yard in Cromdale, and there have been no public announcements concerning its future.

“The gate [says] Chinese people are here — that our culture is recognized and honoured by the city, and we’re so proud of it,” Wai-Ling says.

What will happen to Harbin Gate is as uncertain as Chinatown South’s future. The City of Edmonton’s 2014 planning document, The Quarters Downtown Area Redevelopment Plan, outlines a programme for revitalizing the Boyle Street area with amenities and public art. But the plan makes no mention of Chinatown. Moreover, the 2015 BoyleStreet-McCauley Area Redevelopment Plan claims Chinatown North is the “real” Chinatown. While the city has since backtracked and recognized Chinatown South, Kathryn says this initial blindsiding amounts to “cultural erasure.”

“If you’re writing a document with a new name for an area, and people start using that name… you’re using words to relabel something and remove a piece from history,” Kathryn says.

As younger Chinese Edmontonians, Kathryn and Giang engage with Chinatown to reclaim their cultural roots. For Giang, Chinatown conjures images of his childhood: Cantonese speech, Vietnamese Chinese cooking, and East Asian groceries. For

Kathryn, Chinatown is likewise a “home away from home.”

“We learn a lot about each other, our community, our culture,” Giang says. “Without that knowledge… you end up feeling confused at times.”

Despite their shared love of Chinatown, Kathryn says sometimes older people aren’t interested in the younger generation’s ideas, which obstructs efforts to work together on community projects. Moreover, Wai-Ling says there are roughly 50-60 distinct Chinatown community groups for different dialects, interests, regions, and clans, each with different traditions and objectives.

To survive in the future, Giang says Chinatown needs “sustainable, viable institutions.” Wai-Ling adds that the old guard must be able to “let go” to allow younger generations to take the lead, saying that celebrating the community’s diversity could help bring its different groups together.

“I definitely believe with a collective effort, we can create beautiful and lasting things that many people can enjoy,” Wai-Ling says.

As I walk back westwards from the Multicultural Centre, I again pass the site where the Harbin Gate once stood. Two guardian lion statues had flanked the gate, defending Chinatown South from misfortune. With the lions packed away, who will defend Chinatown now? g

DECEMBER 2018 | 17

REQUIRED READING

Heard Before All the more difficult in the early morning to retrieve the lightly-greased baking sheet this recipe calls for, cupboard or oven drawer.

It’s probable: lives are not without waking up. I hear the dull clang of dense metal, my grandmother bending to bake cookies for the twelve of us children, not one yet stirred.

A time ago, we’ve slimmed down our metals, lighter, ergonomic, and measure less noise too, though what had me sleeping then spreads my eyes now.

It is the same, but now I rise with you.

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REQUIRED READING

Roommate you have chopped finely three red and delicate onions, a smell so pungent the whole house has tears in its eyes. we live where it would be easy for us to close, in a house small and brown, wherein onions leak through the walls and love leaks out and on and on— so in its stead we open. g

POETRY COLBY CLAIR STOLSON ILLUSTRATION DANIELLE MCBETH (LEFT) OLIVIA DEBOURCIER (RIGHT)

DECEMBER 2018 | 19

REQUIRED READING

Doors are an important part of our everyday lives.

We hold them open, slam them shut.

They are the entryway to our home away from home.

They lead us to where we work, study, laugh, and live. g TEXT & PHOTO RICHARD BAGAN

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REQUIRED READING

DECEMBER 2018 | 1

Remembering Luke A Life in the Light

“Being carried off in the rushing river; heading downstream, rolling with the rapids; I will reach my friends and drift to shore.

Find another bridge; they won’t stop this living.”

North of Here, “July,” Make Hay While the Sun Shines

TEXT JONAH DUNCH PHOTOS COURTESY OF THE HARVEY-JANSEN FAMILY

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On Thursday, August 10, 2017, Luke Murray Jansen stood on the mainstage at the Edmonton Folk Music Festival, singing and strumming his banjo between his North of Here bandmates, Will Holowaychuk and Ian St. Arnaud. Two months earlier, Luke had stood on a different stage — the Jubilee Auditorium — for his convocation. A talented musician and sincere leader, he had spent the previous four years in the rushing river of undergrad. Now, with his political science degree behind him and the world ahead of him, he enjoyed North of Here’s Folk Fest performance with no doubt in his mind that many more would follow.

Yet this was not to be. Luke’s life was tragically cut short on October 6, 2017, when he was struck by an LRT train at a pedestrian crossing near South Campus.

The Harvey-Jansen home in Sherwood Park is filled with family photos, capturing slices of time in the entangled lives of Brad, Z’Anne, and their two sons, Luke and Ethan. I visited their house this summer to talk to Brad and Z’Anne about Luke’s life — and his absence.

I followed them to the dining room table, which is big enough to fit the family twice over. We sat and I pulled out my notebook, listening as the HarveyJansens recalled memories of their son.

Luke was born in the U of A hospital on March 9, 1995. He lived in Edmonton for the first three years of his life before the family moved back to Z’Anne and Brad’s hometown: Sherwood Park. The boys grew up with both sets of grandparents nearby.

As a child, Luke was friendly, boisterous, and always curious to try something new. Evidently wellliked from an early age, four-year-old Luke was the only boy in his preschool dance class. Once, Luke told Z’Anne, “Mum, I like dance class, but all the girls kiss you!” Luke was also a voracious reader. As an eightyear-old, he eagerly read the entirety of the newly released Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in one day at the family’s cottage.

Luke sang in the Elk Island Honour Choirs from Grade 2 to Grade 12. He also played basketball in junior high and refereed the sport in high school.

While the three of us were talking, Luke’s younger brother Ethan came home. We shook hands, and he left to study for his upcoming chemistry midterm.

He was taking the class to make up credits, having dropped a course when his big brother died.

When I met with him later on campus, Ethan

reflected on his life growing up alongside Luke, who was four years his senior. Attending the same junior high as their parents, Ethan was often known as “Luke’s brother” by teachers. The pair were rivals as kids and fiercely competed in one-on-one basketball — until Ethan’s skills eclipsed Luke’s. “I whooped his ass,” he said with a grin.

But as the Harvey-Jansen boys grew up, they grew closer. Their common interests in sports, music, and food — and their shared desire to “escape suburbia” — strengthened their bond. If Luke had lived, Ethan said their relationship would have gotten better and better.

“He was going into his prime years of pushing out, and I was just kind of finding myself too,” he said.

“And I would have just been interested to see… where he would end up, and where the band would end up.”

Ethan wondered whether North of Here would have taken off, and if Luke would have had to choose between his music and his political science career.

But, of course, those questions will forever remain unanswered. “A lot changes quickly,” he said.

“He seemed to get a confidence that, ‘It’s okay to try things that are new, that I don’t know how to do,’” Z’Anne said.

In 2010, Luke left Sherwood Heights Junior High behind to start Grade 10 at Bev Facey High School.

He was a high achiever, but Z’Anne said she was most proud of her son when he worked hard behind the scenes and stood up for other people.

“In elementary, if he felt that something wasn’t just, he would challenge it,” she said. “Then what was beautiful was that as he [became an adult]… he was doing his own things to make a difference in the world.”

Z’Anne said Luke’s risk-taking attitude grew in high school, and his classmates grew with him.

Among them was Meryn Severson, who joined forces with Luke to revamp their high school leadership group. Together, the pair took the reins from the teachers who had previously been in charge.

“Luke and I went through an entire revisioning process,” Severson said. “There were some bumps along the way for sure… but Luke and I, I think, were able to move it to a place where it was much more student-led.”

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Beyond the power plays of the high school teachers’ lounge, Luke grew to love the world of politics thanks to High School Model United Nations (HSMUN). He would fiercely debate policy points with his classmates. One time, he and a friend wrote a tune presenting their diplomatic argument, which they played for their peers to get them onside. “He would come out on top,” Brad said, laughing, “even if he was totally wrong!”

Surrounded by music at Sherwood Park United Church, Luke learned to play every instrument he could get his hands on. By the time of his death, he had mastered the piano, baritone saxophone, banjo, and bass guitar, and dabbled in playing the tenor saxophone, accordion, harmonium, melodeum, and harmonica. He even tried to convince Brad to let him bring the church’s retired organ home.

In Grade 11, Luke’s creative music teacher Michelle Engblom took her students on a weekend retreat

Luke at five months old (Aug 9, 1995)

Luke at six years old (spring 2001)

Luke receives Most Outstanding Musician award for Grade 7 from Mr. Rob Graves (May 28, 2008)

Luke at 16 months (July 9, 1996) 24 | GTWY.CA

to Camp Nakamun to create, rehearse, and perform their music in different groups. Some groups gelled and decided to stick together, including what became North of Here — though this was not the band’s original name.

“They were gonna name themselves ‘Mediocre at Best,’ and they thought it was hilarious,” Engblom said. “[I told them], ‘You’re never gonna get a gig!’”

Luke, St. Arnaud, Holowaychuk, and original bandmate Caleb Sinn took Engblom’s advice. She would connect the band with local events around Strathcona County. Soon enough, the North of Here boys were playing at their high school graduation; three years of high school had rushed past them.

While Sinn left the group on good terms in January 2017 to focus on other goals, the remaining trio continued to write songs, practice, and perform in venues around Edmonton. 2015 was a year of growth for the band; Luke and his friends began playing at

Family picture (Nov 27, 1997)

“[The lesson of Luke’s life was to] be immersed in your campus and find those little holes you can fill that you know you’re good at,” Ethan said. licensed venues and opening for established artists like Craig Cardiff. Listening back to recordings of the group’s early shows, Brad said he could see how they became better musicians over time. Ethan interrupted with a laugh and said, “If you’re listening back, you’re like, ‘Oh, they’re not that good!’”

“It’s all relative!” Z’Anne said, coming to the thenteenage band’s defense.

While the band’s profile was growing, Luke found a whole new slate of risks to take: the highs and lows of campus life. In 2013, Luke began the first year of his political science degree. For the four years that followed, he made campus a second home.

Having friends from Sherwood Park by his side helped; Severson and Luke both got into student

Brothers on day of Ethan’s Grade 12 grad ceremony (May 27, 2017)

governance and shared its “joys and tribulations.”

Throughout their respective degrees, they routinely caught up with thoughtful conversations about urban planning, politics, books, and concerts.

“Luke was always that person who was there with me at all of those major steps of my adult life,” she said. “[He valued] making time to connect with the people that are important to you and not putting as much pressure on the things that seem important but actually have less weight.”

Luke made many close friends in his program as well. Ben Throndson, Jessica Van Mulligen, and Mia Bottos met Luke in a Canadian politics course in their first year, forming a “poli sci crew” that stuck together for the rest of their time on campus. Throndson and Van Mulligen recalled a time long before that August 2017 Folk Fest concert, when North of Here played at Dewey’s and several political science friends came along to see Luke the musician in action.

“The band was a bit younger, and… we were all sitting front-row, watching Luke with the rest of his guys play,” Van Mulligen said, chuckling. “It was very typical campus life, but it was fun.”

Luke introduced Throndson to the world of live music festivals. At the Seven Music Festival in St. Albert, far away from the Tory Building lecture halls where they spent most of their days, Throndson saw Luke light up in a new way. “[Luke] had a joie de vie that really expressed itself most clearly when he was at a music festival,” he said.

Professor Steve Patten saw these two sides of Luke too, having first watched North of Here perform at the 2016 Canmore Folk Fest. Patten was pleasantly surprised when Luke walked into his fourth-year political science honors seminar about a month later.

“The unique thing about Luke was his ability to be involved in so many things — and to excel in them.

I think he did it by enjoying everything he was doing,” he said. “He did fun things, but he did them well.”

Patten remembers him as an affable, bright student and the de facto leader of the honors cohort.

Once, when Luke and his classmates didn’t want to

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Edmonton Folk Fest (Aug 13, 2017) Photograph by Risa Witten

go to Patten’s seminar, Luke emailed him to announce the students had “decided” that class would be cancelled this week. Given his good-natured rapport with Luke, Patten didn’t mind this cheeky move. The students used the time to catch up on their thesiswriting instead. Van Mulligen was in the seminar, and she was grateful for Luke’s leadership and support in the class.

“He was really good at checking in with all of us to see how we were doing. He was always the guy to go to to bounce ideas off of,” she said. “I’ve kept more than a few of his sentences in my thesis because he [phrased] it much better than I could write it!”

Luke found a way to bring music into his study of politics; his honors thesis discussed how public policy influenced Edmonton’s live music venues.

He also returned to student leadership. For two years, he was the vice-president events (fundraising) of the Political Science Undergraduate Association (PSUA). In his final year, he served as PSUA president while also holding down a job as a deputy returning officer at the Students’ Union.

During his tenure with the PSUA, Luke co-founded the Poli Sci Bonspiel, an annual curling tournament open to all students, staff, and faculty members that’s now been renamed in his honour. While he brought new students into the fold, current PSUA president Micah Leonida — who served as a vice-president during Luke’s presidency — said Luke never wanted to burden students with extracurriculars if they couldn’t take them on.

“Luke was very welcoming of my ideas,” Leonida said. “He was good at listening and trying to understand where his members had their strengths and weaknesses.”

In January 2017, Luke curled in his final Bonspiel surrounded by friends. Not long after, the winter ice thawed and gave way to spring. When April rolled around, Luke submitted his honors thesis, wrapped up his courses, and looked forward to graduation.

With his undergrad over and professional life just beginning, Luke moved out of his family home to a rental in Parkallen. While he was excited to live in the city with his friends, he made time to go out for dinner with his family and visit his grandparents back in Sherwood Park.

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“He had been out of the house long enough to realize how important [connection to family] was,” Brad said. “[He valued] enjoying his freedom but also where he came from.”

Ethan remembers the August 2017 weekend at the Edmonton Folk Fest well. He was behind Luke and the boys, taking pictures while they played their Thursday “tweener” set between acts on the mainstage, standing next to Shakey Graves as he looked out at the hillside of folk festers.

“Watching other artists who he idolized watch him — that’s pretty cool,” Ethan said. “I think that’s what Folk Fest is all about, and it totally [suited] Luke’s personality as well.”

After a six-month contract as an election assistant with Strathcona County, Luke applied for new jobs in September. He interviewed to work as the Constituency Assistant for Premier Rachel Notley, whom he had met at Folk Fest. Notley and her personnel were looking forward to welcoming Luke to their team — but he died before hearing about the job offer.

“He was super engaged, thoughtful, and kind, and very interested in politics,” Notley wrote in a statement. “He had a very bright future ahead of him and I know he would [have] excelled in any role he would have worked in.”

Come September, Ethan watched North of Here play at his first Week of Welcome, and he looked forward to his brother’s guidance as he charted his own path around campus.

“He was making sure I wasn’t in a shell at university,” Ethan said. “I’m sure he would have helped me a lot more.”

The night before his death, Luke and Van Mulligen went to a Reuben and the Dark concert in the Myer Horowitz Theatre.

“It couldn’t have been any better because… it was such a beautiful, fun night and something Luke totally loved,” Van Mulligen said.

If Luke were still alive today, Z’Anne said he would have toured a new album with North of Here and gotten more experience in the world before pursuing graduate studies a couple years down the line. He had also said he wanted to have children, preferably when he could have been a young, active parent. Luke was brimming with ideas for his future, from lists of grad schools and festivals he had in mind to starts of songs and album cover concepts.

“Definitely, I saw him in his prime, finding what he loved,” Ethan said.

The Harvey-Jansens have started a website, lukejansen.ca, to log reflections and photos of Luke and host their planned “Mentoring and Music Making” legacy fund. The website includes information about “Do You Love Your Song?,” an October 4, 2018 concert celebrating the Edmonton music scene Luke loved, which was organized to mark the first anniversary of his death. In addition to the concert, the family has produced a self-titled album of Luke’s recordings, which can be ordered via the website.

Z’Anne also started a newletter on June 3, 2018 — a year to the day after Luke moved out. The newsletter captures precious moments from the four months after Luke’s move to cherish with family and friends.

Brad said these reflections are reaching extended family across the country who, while they can’t be in Edmonton with the Harvey-Jansens, can enjoy these looks into the past.

“There was this natural interest in… connecting with his story,” Z’Anne said. “It’s become a way of sharing [his life with the world].”

As Luke and his friends sang intricate harmonies on the Folk Fest stage, the sun and the future were bright in equal measure. And like the summer sun, Luke illuminated the lives of those around him.

“By what he did, our world was always changing and growing,” Z’Anne said. “That’s hard to lose.” g

“He was just on the verge of doing so many more amazing things,” Engblom said. “He’s missed by many, many people.”

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FEATURES

Ashes to Art A reflection on the Fort McMurray wildfire

Text & Design Rebecca Lai

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FEATURES

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FEATURES

Convoy on Highway 63

Imagine a wildfire rapidly engulfing your hometown. Your dad rushes through the door after talking to the neighbors and screams, “We have to evacuate now!” Mom is at work and your younger sister is still at school and you can’t help but worry if they’ll make it out of town.

You don’t know where you’ll go or for how long, so you frantically pack clothes and toiletries. On May 3, 2016 the common icebreaker question, “If your house was on fire, what would you save?” became a reality for everyone living in Fort McMurray. You and your dad lock the front door, not knowing it would be the last time, and then desperately drive your way out of the neighborhood. There’s bumper-to-bumper traffic that lasts three hours on what’s normally a six-minute commute. While stuck in traffic, you look up at the sky — it’s black, ashes are falling down, it smells smoky and hot. The uncertainty and desperation to get out safely stifles you.

Your two uncles join you because they ran out of gas. Everyone tries to decide if you should go north towards the oil camps or down south to Edmonton.

Your uncle calls the police to ask for advice and they say they don’t know; just get out of the town. When you arrive downtown, it’s completely abandoned and so smoky you can’t see the buildings on Franklin

Avenue anymore. You’re greeted by police officers who tell you to take a certain road, and soon everyone in the car is shocked to see the trees and bushes on fire as you drive next to them. The smoke is slowly moving closer but your family decides to spend a night parked on the highway to save gas.

You don’t want to drain your phone’s battery, but you go on Facebook to update your friends and family and call kind strangers who are offering to bring gas. You can’t help but feel hopeless, and you can’t comprehend everything that’s happening. It’s not until the next smoky morning that a stranger knocks on your window mid-nap and offers you enough gas to reach Athabasca and eventually Edmonton — where you get to reunite with your mom and sister who took one of the first Diversified buses down.

On May 3, 2016 the common icebreaker question, “If your house was on fire, what would you save?” became a reality for everyone living in Fort McMurray.

My sister and I shoveling snow

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FEATURES

I was born at the Northern Lights Regional Health Centre in Fort McMurray. I grew up in a blue house, riding bikes with the neighbourhood kids after school, playing hide-and-seek, squishing a pop can into our back tires so we would sound like motorcycles — our street probably despised us. My sister and I loved to collect rocks and worms after it rained, and on the weekends our dad would drive us to McDonald’s.

On hot summer days, my mom would take my sister and I swimming at Centennial Pool. Then she would get us pizza, a rare Western treat from the type of Asian mom who can’t go a meal without rice.

Fort McMurray is a place where people come for the money but stay for the community. It has everything you need to get by: multiple Tim Hortons, rivers surrounded by bright evergreens, and the glowing aurora borealis.

About 88,000 people evacuated Fort McMurray in the first week of May 2016, fleeing to Edmonton or other neighbouring towns. My family stayed at my uncle and aunt’s house on the northside of Edmonton. Over 15 family members and work friends were staying there, filling up all the rooms. Some of us had to make makeshift beds on the floor.

The evacuation lasted for about a month before re-entry plans were implemented in June, but one silver lining is that it brought everyone together.

Every day was eventful as we looked for something to keep us entertained other than helping everyone fill out the evacuation papers and unemployment forms. My dad and uncle are cooks, so we had the best food every night, and it felt like a party with the amount of people eating together.

I remember waiting outside the Butterdome for three hours with my family to collect government funding for evacuees. Strangers living near campus offered us water, muffins, and sandwiches. Those small acts of kindness warmed my heart.

The Beast had destroyed 2,400 houses and buildings — and my house was one of them.

My family held out hope that our house would be untouched by The Beast, but within the first week of the evacuation, the municipality released pixelated satellite photos of our neighbourhood that showed that our street had been the only one affected. Our home had burned to the ground. My family lost everything.

The Beast had destroyed 2,400 houses and buildings — and my house was one of them. What hurt me the most was losing VHS tapes of my grandma living in Fort McMurray, and sentimental items from my grandparents like pictures on their shrine and baby photos of my sister and me — they could never be replaced. Why hadn’t I saved more? Why did this happen to my family?

Almost all of the evacuees were given the chance to visit their homes and attempt to recover items with help from professionals. When it was my parents’ turn, they found our basement flooded with water up to the workers’ knees. It seemed unlikely they’d be able to recover anything.

I remember my dad telling me that he had to beg the worker to at least try to recover our fireproof safe. After many attempts, they were able to get the

The Fort McMurray wildfire made worldwide media coverage. People called it “The Beast” because it had a mind of its own. It would die down but come back even stronger. My relatives in Hong Kong and Texas were worried about us and wanted updates every day via FaceTime.

Aftermath of the wildfire

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FEATURES

Memories at 173 intaglio print

safe and pry open the damaged, burnt door. Surprisingly, inside the safe we were able to recover several of my dad’s two-dollar Canadian bills, jewelry pieces that belonged to my grandma, and old passports. It wasn’t much, but we remain grateful for the items that were saved.

I didn’t know how affected I was by the fire until I moved to Edmonton in September 2016 for university while my family was in Fort Mac. The new people I met asked me where I was from a lot, and when I told them their faces lit up with empathy and curiosity. Some asked about the fire, but many didn’t.

When I created my memoir and prints about the fire, I was in a different stage of recovery for each project. Now I look back on the adversity that happened more than two years ago through a different lens.

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I think they felt too uncomfortable, or maybe they had forgotten about it.

I found myself needing to buy the most basic necessities like socks and pencils. It felt like I was starting my life from scratch. Lots of people told me the things I lost were just things, that the memories are more important. While that’s true, I needed time to mourn the loss of my home and the things I could never get back. I needed an outlet to express my feelings and gain a sense of closure.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved art.

Pursuing it as a career wasn’t my first choice, but I decided to take the risk and study art and design at Keyano College, a community college in Fort McMurray. While I do enjoy creating art, I felt that design was my calling and wanted to push myself by continuing my education at the University of Alberta after my first year.

In my second-year design classes at the U of A, we were introduced to the importance of storytelling. For our first self-directed project, I decided to design a memoir about the wildfire. I wanted to be able to write down my feelings and let the memories fade away.

FEATURES

After the fire, I constantly felt guilty because I was forgetting what happened during the evacuation. I would find myself closing my eyes, trying to relive it so the feeling would stop. But pouring my emotions onto the page made me let go of my memories of the fire. Designing the memoir let me tell my story, for myself and to educate others.

I thought that project would be enough to gain a sense of closure and move on. Yet, I found myself still talking about the wildfire a year later. I realized I was still mourning. So in my third year, I decided to base my printmaking theme for the semester on the fire. I wanted to explore my journey of resilience through the artistic process. By the end of the semester I had created three different series of prints: “Closure,” “Memories at 173,” and “Fresh Start.”

These prints represent the progress of recovery that the people in Fort McMurray were experiencing.

When I created my memoir and prints about the fire, I was in a different stage of recovery for each project. Now I look back on the adversity that happened more than two years ago through a different lens. The road to resiliency isn’t easy, but I’ve learned how to bounce back from the worst times.

Sometimes, memories from the fire resurface in the news or on social media, and I’ll suddenly remember that it actually happened. Once, I watched the Discovery Channel’s Fort Mac Wildfire: Rogue Earth with my friends, and it was so surreal to watch a documentary on Fort McMurray — a town that no one in the world really knew about before the fire.

Fresh Start intaglio print

My family was able to move into our new house on the same lot in Fort Mac this past summer. I can’t speak for everyone, but my family has moved on from the tragedy that happened to us. And while my house was being rebuilt, so was I. Fort McMurray will never be the same — and I’ll never be quite the same either. g

The new house

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DIVER SIONS

HOROSCOPES TEXT FEO P - S VISUALS JESSICA TANG

Aries Tonight, the quiet horse will come to your window one last time. Be ready.

Cancer If you’re careful, this may be your lucky month! Open a new door; take a moment to rest your weary hands.

Leo A battle is raging in the celestial sphere. There has been no better time to make a baby.

Virgo Who am I to say, really? Go ask your mother. Then come and tell me what she says. I long to hear her supple voice.

Taurus This is not a good time to smell the roses or make big decisions. Let nature take its course and be firm in your resolve.

Pisces The stars are shifting off axis — sell off those pernicious assets and consult a friend!

DIVER SIONS

Aquarius Venus is in alignment; beware the liberaci beams cresting the oceanic soul.

Libra Solar flares this month give rise to wavering radiants! Take this opportunity to pack your bags and set out on a spontaneous road trip.

Never come back here again.

Scorpio Try drawing up a list of pros and cons the next time life throws you a curveball. You can only save one child, so make it count.

Capricorn Don’t look now, but there’s a pestilence coming! It’s a good time to take on a hobby, like Hot Wheels.

Sagittarius Steady is the dry docked ship.

You need to let go of your inhibitions, drop some acid, and fight someone.

Gemini If you listen closely, you will hear the whisper of the Gemini Rift.

This is a special period in your life, but you will find one eyelash too many on the cheek of your lover. g

DIVER SIONS

CROSSWORD TEXT FEO P - S

ACROSS

DOWN

5 Spaghetti and meatballs is a classic Italian dish, but where does the Miner Bee (Andrena milwaukeensis) make its nest?

9 A funny sounding river that Mark Twain kept saying stuff about.

1 You’re infested with a silly little mite called Demodex folliculorum — what part of your silly little face does it call home?

2 The galaxy where the planet most like our home is.

3 The non-spicy spice that makes chili really chili.

4 The average lifespan of a fruit fly, in days.

6 Here’s another one about home, you guys.

10 France was home to this mathematician and his wager.

12 This is where E.T. needs to go.

13 They’re telling me the theme of this magazine is “home.” Do you use a phone at home? Who invented that, I guess?

14 Have you ever been home alone? Where does that sweet goddamn Christmas movie take place?

The tomato frog has only one home, and it’s this island nation.

7 How you feel when you’re, like, just cold enough that it’s uncomfortable but you’ll survive.

8 Where’d Pablo Neruda come from anyway?

11 Wow, what do you think this one’s about? No, it’s home again — Stalin’s home.

CJSR_PRINT.pdf

TUNE IN LIS TEN VOLUNTEER

5

2018-10-07

8:11 PM

Find the answers on our website, gtwy.ca

DIVER SIONS

1

2

3 4

5 6

7

8

9

10 11

12

13

14

ACROSS 5 Spaghetti and meatballs is a classic Italian dish, but where does the Miner Bee (Andrena milwaukeensis) make its nest?

9 A funny sounding river that Mark Twain kept saying stuff about.

10 France was home to this mathematician and his pendulum.

12 This is where E.T. needs to go.

13 They’re telling me the theme of this magazine is “home.” Do you use a phone at home?

Who invented that, I guess?

14 Have you ever been home alone? Where does that sweet goddamn Christmas movie take place?

DOWN 1 You’re infested with a silly little mite called Demodex folliculorum — what part of your silly little face does it call home?

2 The galaxy where the planet most like our home is.

https://www.puzzle-maker.com/crossword_FreePuzzle.cgi

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DIVER SIONS

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