Columnists
What is true infrastructure
As usual, you will not understand the title until about half way through. Bear with me while I set the stage. I am not writing a university thesis on the history of the County, so I think a brief synopsis will suffice. If you want more detail, do not call me. Read Prince Edward County: An Illustrated History.
Strap on your speedreading boots, because I hope to cover the first 200 years in a couple of paragraphs.
The Indians, who were later named aboriginals, and then First Nations, and then Natives, and then Indigenous People, because white people just couldn’t seem to find an appropriate name for them, other than ‘us’. They roamed their land, which had no borders— North as far as they wanted to go; south as far as they wanted to go. Adding borders imposed by the settlers must have been incomprehensible to them, since the land was the land.
Jumping ahead, after the American Revolution, those loyal to the Crown were moved to various places in Canada, and land was surveyed to accommodate them. Those who had accreditation as United Empire Loyalists got in early, in order to lord their credentials forever to everyone who followed.
THE REAL COUNTY
The Real County is the County we know. Our vision of life, especially in the early days, was to help our neighbours, and they would help us in return. Back then it was a matter of survival, because we needed each other. Much like today. It evolved into helping anyone— even total strangers—if they needed help. This is not unique to us, but it is the defining culture of every village and backwater community across Ontario.
As we progressed, agriculture became our main staple. If you’ve ever cut down 100 trees with an axe before sunset, then you can brag on that, and then prove it. This is what it took to clear the rough land of the early settlers.
And we were all in. Farming was Number One in the early days, and still holds strong today.
THEN WE BOOMED
When we became the Garden County of Canada, we were cranking out canned vegetables across the country. Almost every family here had a job in the canning industry, even the kids. There were jobs for everyone willing to work. With the downfall of the canning industry, things changed. The new king was tourism. Funny thing is, we wouldn’t have been able to get tourism, without our farming background. The same as we couldn’t have community without our concern and support of our neighbours. In short, we were not metro. We were not city. We were not sipping lattés on a sidewalk patio on Queen Street, sucking in diesel fumes and the smell of rotting vegetables. We were fresh air, open roads and open country; no traffic jams unless the Tim Hortons lights malfunctioned.
LOSING OUR WAY
What we were remained what we were. Everything else changed. Tourism was the main focus, and boy did we pile on that. Farming was still a powerful force in the County’s economy, and our fields were full of crops that tourists thought were magically created in Toronto’s enormous Food Terminal, where the smell of rotting vegetables (I’ve been there) makes diesel fumes smell like Chanel No. 5.
Still, we catered to the new tourist market, and carried on doing what we do. So how did things go wrong?
PLANNING
Let’s have some fun with this. The County hired people to serve the new King: Tourism. They said, “Come on in.” In a big way. Suddenly we were the visitor ‘go-to’ place in the world, outranking foreign war-torn places, and resorts which had controlled malaria outbreaks.
The trouble is: The County was not nearly ready for what we got. You know that thing: Be careful of what you wish for, for you may surely get it? That was us. It’s like we held a party: Everyone invited. And then, damn! Everyone showed up, and they are running amok in your house. Bad planning.
Fact is, we invited thousands of people in, but we had no plan to deal with them. Limited accommodations; no public washrooms; stores and restaurants closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, because they were tired out after the weekend. We were swamped. Should have been a good thing. Lots of people? Good for business. And then the big problem arrives.
INFRASTRUCTURE
I won’t go on about infrastructure, only to note that our local governments over the years have been too late to the table. We offered vacation paradise to tourists, when we didn’t even have enough port-apotties to go around.
When we think about infrastructure, we think of the dictionary description: “the basic physical and organizational structures and facilities (e.g. buildings, roads, power supplies) needed for the operation of a society or enterprise.”
Well, we consistently failed at that, but that’s not my point. To me County infrastructure is not made of asphalt, brick and concrete. It is made of people. Us. The us formed through generations by all the things I mentioned earlier. People came here—not because our roads were smooth and seamless (Thank God!)— but because we were, and are, everything the city did not offer: People who say, “Hi” to strangers, people who help when help is asked for, open fields and fresh air, and beaches that are only polluted by city waste a few weeks a year, due to the west-to-east water flow.
Fresh fruit and vegetables that come straight from the field, and don’t need a ‘best before’ date. (When picking up corn at Hagerman’s, the girl said, “Wait! There’s a new load coming in.” Now that’s fresh!) Restaurants can honestly advertise ‘locally-grown’ and ‘farm-fresh’.
We have a lot of infrastructure problems in the County, and they demand our attention, and sometimes our anger and frustration on how, why and where that asphalt, brick and concrete is delivered to us.
But the people part is important to me. I remember when people fought the expensive building of the Skyway Bridge. Turned out, it was a great idea, and became a thoroughfare for everyone. Then it started crumbling, then became a pain in the butt while repairs were made, but someday Ta-dah! we will be able to travel both ways without falling into the Bay of Quinte.
The people part is what worries me. According to reports, new arrivals are about to outnumber longtime locals. I hope they join in the County spirit and culture that drew them here. Meanwhile, we all need to lead by example, and maybe politely point out to some people: “Sorry, that’s not the County Way.” So we can keep what we have. And teach them what it means to be here.
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