“I know, Petunia darling, let’s go to Niagara-on-the-Lake; I hear they have lots of public toilets!” Here it is not even

April, and the fools are busy at work. Only 400-bloody-thousand-dollars for more public toilets in Old Town. I

ought to write a letter.

As should you. All of you.

Hey, wait, I got a new complaint. (Thanks, Nirvana, ye kings of grunge and sullen activism.)

Activism is productive complaining. It is simple, effective, and absolutely necessary. If none of us speaks up, if we

all sit on our hands moaning about how things should be, if we leave the letter-writing and campaigning and complaining

to that elusive ‘someone else,’ we’ll wind up with a town made up almost exclusively of public washrooms

and over-sized B&Bs, paved parks and polluted water.

We lost one of our greatest leaders recently. While I never met Margherita Howe, I was greatly affected by the

flame of her. She burned hot and bright, creating change all around her: Shedding light, generating heat, making

both comfort and discomfort as only fire can. We were all affected by her. For one, the water surrounding us is

cleaner and safer because of her courage and conviction. But that water is not entirely clean or safe yet, so there’s

lots of work left for the rest of us.

Lots of work. There’s a community centre left unloved. And a safe and imperative path to Virgil yet unapproved.

And a dream of a Vegas-style ‘condotel’ by the water still on the books. And and and. Plenty of reasons to write letters

and emails, make phone calls, ask questions, demand answers. Provoke.

The second best thing I love to hear about these occasional musings of mine is, ‘I liked your rant. Didn’t agree

with it, but I liked it.’ The best? ‘Something you said in your rant made me do something/write someone/angry

enough to act.’ The saddest sound? Silence. And that’s what I hear most, which is why I write increasingly less.

Why bother? Which proves my own weakness, really. Don’t we all do what we do because we know it’s right,

regardless of the outcome? We recycle, even though we hear it’s all a waste of time and effort. We’re polite, even

though people are rude to us. So why keep my big mouth shut just because you do? So I’ll try to keep writing.

Poke, poke.

NotL Rants column, The Niagara Advance

These rants are meant to provoke action. Activism. Reaction. Anything. Poke, poke.

Write a letter. To me, about me, to anyone. Who cares if your style isn’t Pulitzer-worthy? As for the old saw about

anything you put on paper coming back to bite you, I believe more things will sink their teeth into you if you don’t

write/call/react. If absolutely necessary, make it anonymous--but I must advise against the use of glue and cut-out

letters from magazines. It really doesn’t matter whether or not you write well, or even spell correctly for that matter.

If you complain, praise or suggest, the core will be heard. To bastardise Mcluhan, the message is not always the

medium, nor the style or grammar or fancy language. The message is the message, period. Get it out there.

I believe it’s critically important for anyone and everyone to speak out against things we see as infringing on the

quality of our lives, and the sanctity of our sanity. For some reason we keep forgetting we have a voice, afraid that

we might come off as whining busybodies with nothing better to do. But if we don’t show we care, how can we

expect anyone to care about us? One of the biggest curses we have as people is the need to be liked. Imagine abandoning

that need and replacing it with truth. Imagine the peace of mind, the passion, the respect you’d have and

receive. Imagine having a little bit of Margherita in you.

Someone said, so eloquently, that Margherita Howe died with her boots on. (Someone else said all of town council

will show up at her funeral just to make sure she’s really gone.)

 

I urge you to put on your own boots, open your

big, truthful mouth, and make things happen. What a wonderful legacy she, and so many like her, have left us. The

worst we could do is ignore it.

Here are some starting points for you: What of that town-forsaken bandshell in Simcoe Park? Why do we not

have one single outdoor public skating rink in town? (Moot this winter, sure, but a real issue nonetheless.) Why are

there no pesticide warnings during spraying seasons? Why is the incidence of cancer so disproportionately high in

the Niagara region? What about proportional representation? And how about that Margherita?