Today (Wednesday) dear readers, is my two-year anniversary of working for the Gazette and of moving to the Boundary.
Unlike a lot of my friends from school, the thought of moving away, far away, from Toronto or Ottawa was never unimaginable. I always had it in the back of my mind that at least for a time, I’d probably end up in some far-flung place. Maybe part of me thought (hoped?) it might be a little more exotic, but Grand Forks, here I am.
As I was writing this column, I thought back to a workshop I attended a few weeks ago, a Community Conversation hosted by the Phoenix Foundation. As we went around the circle introducing ourselves, we were invited to share how we were a part of the community. Many people shared their volunteer work or their family connections. I got to say that I was lucky enough that it’s my job to be part of this community – I’m literally a professional in knowing what’s going on around here.
It has been my privilege to work in such a welcoming community for this long.
This time last year, I reflected on what it was like to move from my big hometown to such a small, insular community. This year, I’m thinking more about what it means to belong — another question that came up at that workshop.
In some ways, I still don’t quite feel like I belong here — I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing, but it’s just the way it is. My peer group (unmarried, childless Millennials) isn’t exactly a huge demographic here, so I’ve found over the past couple years that it is hard to make connections and friends. I’m battling that, one invitation and outing at a time, and pushing myself to just get out more. One of the most profound things about moving here, from my perspective, has been learning that sometimes the people you have the least in common with make the best friends.
There are still lots of things I don’t really “get” about the culture of Grand Forks either. As I mused to a friend the other day, Grand Forks can still be kind of an enigma. It would be easy to reduce Grand Forks to the trope of small-town rural Canada (as I think, many people are prone to do), but that doesn’t quite fit — the culture is more nuanced, the people more interesting, and the issues a little larger in scope. I think I’m still figuring the character of Grand Forks out, and I’m sure that is in no small part because I’m from a big city in Ontario.
But on the other hand, I have felt myself belonging more and more, especially in the last eight months or so. I can’t quite nail down what changed, but slowly, Grand Forks has felt more like home. While there are still things I miss (looking at you, McDonalds French fries at 10 p.m.), I’ve started to welcome running into people I know, into the little waves you give to pedestrians walking their dogs as you drive by, and the way everyone — everyone — insists that I eat when I show up to an event, camera in hand. It’s these small things that make me feel like I’ve been embraced by the community.
And, of course, I’ve been here long enough to know what I’m looking forward to. I’m already excited for the days when “work” is lounging on the bleachers with my camera at the GFI, or taking photos/dancing at CannaFest. There are river swims, ice cream at the Lake, and farmers’ markets mornings all coming my way, and soon. It’s been a good couple of years, and I’m looking forward to more.