Glimmering Moments
User Story
By Stephen T. Berg
The High Level Bridge Streetcar conductor took as much time as needed and enthusiastically answered the copious questions of a curious and delighted child. My love for Edmonton comes to me through this glimmering minor moment.
And it comes from sitting in Railtown Park with Daniel, an aboriginal artist, who patiently walks me through his latest work. In his piece, as in our city, everything is in motion and enjoined, loose and lively. And tucked within the images of eagle and rose, peace-smoke and sweat lodge, is a spiral of beads showing the interconnection of all people groups. Daniel tells me the painting is called “Beginning of Love.”
And my love for this city comes from watching a well-known politician stop and greet a homeless man. I see the empathy reflected in her face as she talks to him and then I watch her buy him a coffee and croissant.
My affection for Edmonton comes from cycling and hiking the North Saskatchewan River trails. Trails that in any season remove me from all cities and bring me into the natural boreal beauty of our northern space. Here, whether at the summit of summer, or in the low slant of winter light through elm, I’m led to a contemplative edge.
For over three decades I’ve been drawn back into the lap of Edmonton. I’ve lived in a sixties-era community just off downtown, I’ve raised kids in the west-side suburbs, and I now live in the city’s inner core, and always, I’ve been beckoned by the adventure and energy of community.
Like anyone who has lived here, even briefly, I’ve benefited from the organizational genius of so many Edmonton leaders. Events—political, sport, music, causes, fundraising— run to every facet and engage all. Festivals—art, drama, literary, music—light up every month.
I’ve attended and witnessed political protests, all of which have been fired by passion yet stayed within a civility beyond harm. I’ve been part of several faith communities, compelled by their compassion.
I’ve sprawled on a hill of grass at dusk in concert with 10,000 people—at just the right height to see Canada Place and the grand old Hotel Macdonald bookend modern towers and frame looming cranes that are already lifting a dawn made possible by steadfast generations of our Capital’s past.
My love for this city has grown, not so much from my own capricious heart—it comes instead through people I’ve seen living, working, caring for and honouring their place in this city they call home.
For over 20 years I’ve volunteered and worked for an agency that cares for our city’s homeless. This is over 19 years more than required to meet people from every part of our city whose compassion and humour permeates, softens, and makes liveable the glass and concrete of the inner-city.
People flourish here because of the bouquets of small glimmering moments. Like early one morning when I saw our city’s mayor stopped at a bank machine on Jasper. He was about to get back into his car when he spotted a discarded flyer—unaware that anyone was observing, he stepped back out, retrieved and deposited the garbage into a cement receptacle. For years now, I’ve made it a practice to pick up at least one piece of refuse a day.
What I’ve witnessed, learned, and have now grown into is a steady awareness that Edmonton’s unseen good eclipses any broadcasted sad—every time. I’ve grown like the people that have unknowingly modeled the fact that our city is big enough to make space for all and do it with passionate aplomb.
