About Hometowns

A little while ago, a Facebook friend posed this question: “How long do you have to live somewhere before you call it home?” The comments were varied and interesting: there were military brats who said they just picked their favourite city to call home, because they never lived anywhere longer than three years at a time growing up. There were born-and-breds who had never spent more than a vacation-length span of time away from the city they were born in. And, this being Calgary, there were also lots of imported Albertans who had varying opinions: some folks felt at home after ten years, others felt 7 was the magic number. And then there were others who, despite living here in Cowtown for decades, still identified with their hometowns back wherever and never quite managed to settle in and call this place home. I was of two minds (if you know me at all, this will not surprise you).

How long do you have to live somewhere before you call it home?

Here’s how I see it. We live in a post-Einstein world, and therefore we all know (or we should know, at any rate) that there is nothing innately special about our place in the universe. It’s all relative, man. So where is home, you ask? Well, it all depends on where I am (relatively speaking) when the question is asked. If I’m in Calgary and someone asks me where I’m from, I tell them I’m from Toronto. I haven’t lived there in 15 years, so it’s hardly “home” to me anymore, but when I’m asked the question in Calgary, I know that the person asking really means, “where were you born?” or “where did you grow up?” And since it seems only about five people were actually born and raised  in Calgary, this is actually a fairly common question. Then again, if I’m traveling somewhere and I get asked, “where are you from?” I tell them I’m from Calgary, because I know they really mean, “where do you live?” And then there’s the really weird scenario of me visiting Toronto and being asked, “where are you from?” – often I’ll pause, smile and say, “I grew up here but I live in Calgary now”. The thing is, I really enjoy living in Calgary. It’s what I’d call a big-small city. At over a million people we can boast most of the benefits of a big city, but there’s still often a small-town kinda feel and it’s just downright freaky how often you bump into people you know where you least expect, and how often you meet new people who know your best friend with only two or three degrees of separation. And with the Rockies on our doorstep, world-class winter sports facilities right in town (thank you, 1988 Olympics) and a young, vibrant population (to wit: our awesome leader, Mayor Naheed Nenshi), Calgary has become a force to be reckoned with in the Canadian urban landscape, and I’m happy to live and work and raise my daughters here.

My two hometowns: Calgary and Toronto.

But a part of my heart (and a rather big one at that) still belongs (and always will) to Toronto. If you asked me what my favourite Canadian city was, I’d extoll the virtues of Vancouver in July; of summer evenings in Montreal; of crisp, white winter days in Québec City; and of blustery, blowing autumn leaves in Kingston. And of course I wouldn’t leave out my two hometowns – Calgary’s vibrant youth vibe and almost coltish exuberance; Toronto’s more refined and worldly experience. And the arts. Toronto’s theatre scene has spoiled me for pretty much anything else except London or Broadway, not to mention the galleries and museums and TIFF and…yeah. Toronto wins at the arts. But Calgary TOTALLY wins at the mayors, so there’s that, too. But if you really tried to pin me down, if you grabbed my hands and gazed into my eyes and said something like, “no seriously. Pick one. Your favourite city: GO!” Well then, I’d have to say… My favourite city is my hometown.

Hey…go easy on me. It’s all relative, after all.