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Just a Thought.... By Ev Bishop
Loyal readers of the Terrace Standard have already pondered these ruminations.
I hope you enjoy them too. Look for a new column here around the 25th of every month.
Loyal readers of the Terrace Standard have already pondered these ruminations.
I hope you enjoy them too. Look for a new column here around the 25th of every month.
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construction crews and a structure that gleamed like it was made of white stone in
the brilliant sun. The “new bridge” was almost ready for the public. It was very
exciting. And huge.
There was a mall. Almost brand new, it was a testament to seventies’ couture—a
squat, sprawling rectangle with few windows to enlighten potential shoppers to
what wonders lay inside. But what wonders! Fancy chocolate brown and orangish
tile floors and so many stores! Very metropolitan. And when I found out Terrace
had an indoor pool? Let’s just say I was impressed.
In my teens though, I hated Terrace. It was too small. There was nothing to do. It
sucked. A good friend challenged me on that. I was going on about being stuck in
Terrace and how lucky he was because he’d lived all over globe.
Eventually he said, “After two or three weeks every place is exactly the same.
People are the same everywhere, and scenery starts to be familiar, feel the same
too. You bring yourself wherever you go.
I met his wisdom with something like, “Whatever.”
But I started to see the truth in his words. Some people are happy everywhere and
in almost every situation. Other people never seem to be. And it’s not like the
“happy people” have radically easier lives or anything—actual circumstances don’t
really seem to be factor.
Optimists have learned what my friend knew: You are you. Your attitudes and the
stands you take will determine your perceptions. Interestingly, it’s these happy,
appreciative people who often work the hardest to make things still better for
themselves and for others.
I used to be content to complain and very apathetic about doing anything about
those complaints. Now I’m not advocating that we all start being fake and pretend
everything’s perfect all the time—but I do love Gandhi’s quote, almost a cliché
these days, but such a good one: Be the change you want to see.
There are things Terrace needs, but just like my impressed eight-year-old self, I
recognize all that it offers.
Our Aquatic Centre isn’t the fanciest in B.C. perhaps, but kudos to the City for its
good maintenance and regular updates. It’s a great facility, with a wonderful staff.
And what an amazing abundance of programs it and Terrace’s Leisure Services
offer. Ditto for our library—fantastic by any town’s standards.
For our size, we have a great array of stores, offering both trendy and practical
wares—shops that rival some of the best “city” stores.
We have a huge, vibrant and diverse arts community, an amazing variety of
restaurants offering different types of cuisine, and clubs and sports opportunities
for every interest.
Starting this column, I thought I would address things I’d like to see happen—the
mall updated, Mount Layton Resort rescued and made into the huge drawing card it
should be, etc. But as I recalled recent conversations, read about upcoming
development plans, and considered various new businesses and offerings, I realized
that what I really want is exactly what’s already happening: all of us getting
involved with where we live.
If you feel Terrace doesn’t have a lot to offer, maybe you need to give more of
yourself to it. Join a club. Sign up for lessons. Work to bring what you feel is
lacking. Perhaps consider running in the next municipal election. And relax. You
can’t do everything. And you don’t need to. If everyone picked one passion and
ran with it, imagine what Terrace would be like.
If you’re already doing a lot and you’re proud of your town, but all the feedback you
hear seems negative—what’s not being done, what’s not being offered—try not to
get discouraged. We love to focus on our complaints and we forget to say when
something pleases us, is wonderful, makes us feel thankful.
Terrace is a great place to live, and when the sunlight glistens on the Skeena and
the air is delicious with the promise of summer, I still get hit by the same feeling
of excitement and possibility that filled my belly on moving day all those years ago.
the brilliant sun. The “new bridge” was almost ready for the public. It was very
exciting. And huge.
There was a mall. Almost brand new, it was a testament to seventies’ couture—a
squat, sprawling rectangle with few windows to enlighten potential shoppers to
what wonders lay inside. But what wonders! Fancy chocolate brown and orangish
tile floors and so many stores! Very metropolitan. And when I found out Terrace
had an indoor pool? Let’s just say I was impressed.
In my teens though, I hated Terrace. It was too small. There was nothing to do. It
sucked. A good friend challenged me on that. I was going on about being stuck in
Terrace and how lucky he was because he’d lived all over globe.
Eventually he said, “After two or three weeks every place is exactly the same.
People are the same everywhere, and scenery starts to be familiar, feel the same
too. You bring yourself wherever you go.
I met his wisdom with something like, “Whatever.”
But I started to see the truth in his words. Some people are happy everywhere and
in almost every situation. Other people never seem to be. And it’s not like the
“happy people” have radically easier lives or anything—actual circumstances don’t
really seem to be factor.
Optimists have learned what my friend knew: You are you. Your attitudes and the
stands you take will determine your perceptions. Interestingly, it’s these happy,
appreciative people who often work the hardest to make things still better for
themselves and for others.
I used to be content to complain and very apathetic about doing anything about
those complaints. Now I’m not advocating that we all start being fake and pretend
everything’s perfect all the time—but I do love Gandhi’s quote, almost a cliché
these days, but such a good one: Be the change you want to see.
There are things Terrace needs, but just like my impressed eight-year-old self, I
recognize all that it offers.
Our Aquatic Centre isn’t the fanciest in B.C. perhaps, but kudos to the City for its
good maintenance and regular updates. It’s a great facility, with a wonderful staff.
And what an amazing abundance of programs it and Terrace’s Leisure Services
offer. Ditto for our library—fantastic by any town’s standards.
For our size, we have a great array of stores, offering both trendy and practical
wares—shops that rival some of the best “city” stores.
We have a huge, vibrant and diverse arts community, an amazing variety of
restaurants offering different types of cuisine, and clubs and sports opportunities
for every interest.
Starting this column, I thought I would address things I’d like to see happen—the
mall updated, Mount Layton Resort rescued and made into the huge drawing card it
should be, etc. But as I recalled recent conversations, read about upcoming
development plans, and considered various new businesses and offerings, I realized
that what I really want is exactly what’s already happening: all of us getting
involved with where we live.
If you feel Terrace doesn’t have a lot to offer, maybe you need to give more of
yourself to it. Join a club. Sign up for lessons. Work to bring what you feel is
lacking. Perhaps consider running in the next municipal election. And relax. You
can’t do everything. And you don’t need to. If everyone picked one passion and
ran with it, imagine what Terrace would be like.
If you’re already doing a lot and you’re proud of your town, but all the feedback you
hear seems negative—what’s not being done, what’s not being offered—try not to
get discouraged. We love to focus on our complaints and we forget to say when
something pleases us, is wonderful, makes us feel thankful.
Terrace is a great place to live, and when the sunlight glistens on the Skeena and
the air is delicious with the promise of summer, I still get hit by the same feeling
of excitement and possibility that filled my belly on moving day all those years ago.
Home
By Ev Bishop
By Ev Bishop
I was eight, the August I moved to
Terrace. We drove into town on a hot,
hot day (remember when our summers
had heat?!). I felt like I could smell
the sun—warm and bright and
promising—and that delight made up
for how my legs stuck to the vinyl
seats of our station wagon. We
rattled over the narrow bridge that ran
alongside a bridge for trains, and my
dad pointed across the Skeena to busy
Terrace. We drove into town on a hot,
hot day (remember when our summers
had heat?!). I felt like I could smell
the sun—warm and bright and
promising—and that delight made up
for how my legs stuck to the vinyl
seats of our station wagon. We
rattled over the narrow bridge that ran
alongside a bridge for trains, and my
dad pointed across the Skeena to busy
Photo by Marriah Bishop