Sunset Sign

Yes, it was a clear-blue sky overhead. A perfect, cloudless, clear-blue sky.

But when I started playing around with the white balance, in post-processing, the sky changed from azure to purple, to various shades of pink. And I liked it.

I was going to share this image with Monday's post about Dairy Queen but the image now stood out from all of the other, natural-lighting snapshots that I took of the vacant, old ice-cream shop.

I'm very sad about the loss of a Nepean landmark, a place that brought so many people together on a warm summer evening, but in all honesty, it's probably been at least a decade since I last placed an order at the take-out window. Perhaps I'm sad the same way that I am about other places from my youth are now gone from the Ottawa map.

Perhaps I'm sad that I'll no longer be able to see that DQ and remember the good times I've had there and decide to stop one more time.

I kept this final image, the last shot that I took at the old DQ, the one with which I played around with the white balance, as a single, solitary reminder of what is gone. The purple, pink, and blue pay homage to the colourful memories that I'll keep with me long after this site changes into something else.

Happy Friday!

Sandwich Boards and Politics

My wife (DW) and I occasionally cycle from our home, in Barrhaven, to Stittsville. It's a relatively short ride, for the two of us, at about 38 kilometers, round-trip, but it's worth it for a very good reason.

Quitters.

This coffee shop, owned by singer-songwriter Kathleen Edwards, is a gem of a spot. A haven for cyclists, you'll often find a few bikes around back. They have great coffee, great treats, and the best breakfast sandwich in the city.

DW and I stick to roads, for the most part, obeying the rules all the way. As we approach Stittsville, we spend a bit of time on the Trans-Canada Trail, the old railway line that passes very close to Quitters. As we approach Village Square Park, we dismount and walk our bikes around the corner, onto Main Street, and park our bikes behind the coffee shop.

On the last couple of trips out to Stittsville, DW and I have noticed a few sandwich boards along the path and in the park. These signs remind cyclists to stay below 20 kph while on the path (we slow down whenever we see other people on the path) and to walk your bikes when crossing the road. Messages accompany the images.

At the bottom of the signs, in the largest font size on the sandwich board, is the name of Stittsville's municipal councillor, Glen Gower.

Glen and I have been social-media friends for a number of years (long before he ran for public office) and have met on a few occasions. As the former owner of the Ottawa blog, OttawaStart, Glen has shared some of my photos and even, at one time, copied my Where In Ottawa photo challenge. He's a decent guy, so when I saw these signs, I reached out to him through Twitter and asked why his name was on the signs.

Glen told me that he had used his office's budget to have the signs made up. His constituents love them and have told him so, he said.

But why is his name so prominent, I asked. Glen told me, through a tweet, "Everything a municipal councillor does involves some level of promotion - from our email newsletters to Facebook videos to mailers to tents or banners at the local picnic. Part of the job is making sure residents know who we are and what we do. You may disagree on this!"

My initial reaction to the sandwich board was that the messages were good. Cyclist should slow down and share the path with other cyclists, pedestrians, and runners. I agree that walking your bike across a roadway at a pedestrian crossing is not only safe for everybody but is also the law. Glen's signs have reiterated what is already legislated. Good for him.

But why is his name larger than the message that he wants to convey? To me, his name draws more attention than anything else.

With the federal election underway, we see campaign signs all over, with candidates splashing their names all over front lawns and public spaces. Whenever I see a politician's name on a sign, I think that they are campaigning.

Save that for election time.

I asked Glen if anybody can put signs up with their name on them. To this, he replied, "Also - yes, if an individual or community group wants to come forward to fund a campaign that promotes community safety and courtesy, I am all ears!"

I'm tempted to make some signs that remind motorists that cyclists have an equal right to be on the road. The message would be under THE BROWN KNOWSER, in a font size that's twice as large.

Thoughts?

It's a shame that Glen's name is on these signs. Because his title is also on them, they're only good for as long as he's in office. While I wish him much success, there's no guarantee that those signs will be around after the next municipal election.

Exile

 

Wordless Wednesday: Down on the Farm

Black and White Project: Week 14

Wordless Wednesday: Random Montreal

Wordless Wednesday: The British

Photo Friday: Preservation

The face of our city is changing.

Nowhere is this fact more apparent than the area outside of the greenbelt, where urban sprawl is an understatement. In my neighbourhood—South Nepean—the amount of development has more than doubled in the 14 years that I've lived here. A couple of years ago, at a community meeting, my city councilor, Jan Harder, said that there isn't a single speck of land that isn't slated for development.

But the neighbourhoods within the greenbelt are not exempt from expansion. Neighbourhoods such as Westboro and Hintonburg are seeing a growth spurt of their own: not growing outwards but growing upwards. Many condominiums are sprouting up and the faces of those areas are changing as old buildings are coming down to make way for new ones.

Walking down Wellington Street last weekend, between Westboro and Hintonburg, I saw old structures slated for demolition and construction of new highrises. And it made me think that some of these old places should be captured before they're gone.

I've never eaten at Napolis Pizza, but I recognized the sign as something I've passed countless times. The building that houses the pizzaria is aged, outdated, and wouldn't be considered of heritage value. And so I wouldn't be surprised if, in the next couple of years, it disappears, replaced by a condo; hopefully, maintaining the eatery.

As neighbourhoods evolve and iconic symbols fall under the risk of disappearing, I hope to make a record of them.

Do you know of a sign or a structure that you think should be preserved in photos before it disappears? Let me know and I'll capture it.

Happy Friday!

Turn Around, Again

I originally published this blog post on April 22, 2011, on my old blog, Brownfoot Journal. After reading a similar story on OttawaStart, I was reminded of my story and wanted to share it again, only I closed access to the Brownfoot Journal more than a year ago. So here it is again, on The Brown Knowser, for those of you who haven't read it before.

Want more information about the CIVIC Pharmacy? Check out The Margins of History. 


It all started with Twitter.
 
As some of you know, I follow Twitter. A lot. Sometimes, too much. After all, I do suffer from FMS Syndrome^*.
 
Last week, I let myself be distracted by a photo, tweeted by a fellow Ottawa blogger, Andrea Tomkins. Her photo showed a famous, though obscure, Ottawa landmark: a sign on a building at the intersection of Carling and Holland Avenues. This sign:
 

I immediately recognized the sign. It has been on this building for as long as I can remember. And so, when I saw Andrea's picture, I thought that I would add a comment to her picture. I told her that I had a recollection that at some point, the CIVIC letters actually turned on their posts. I wasn't sure: I just had some childhood memory.
 
Andrea responded to my comment, telling me that she wasn't sure if the letters had turned, but that it would be cool if it were true (not that she was accusing me of making it up). A conversation ensued, in which I said that yes, I was pretty sure that sometime in the 70s, I saw those letters turn. I added that I suspected the letters stopped turning in the 80s. But I couldn't be certain. And then Andrea pulled in another tweep, OttawaStart.
 
As great and tuned-in as the folks at OttawaStart are on issues concerning our fair city, the tweet they provided shed no light. Another tweep, who was in Ottawa in the 70s, also seemed to support my claim, but wasn't sure. And so I took this on as a personal quest to get the answer.
 
But not right away. I have a full-time job, a couple of books on the go, this blog, and two young kids that deserve the bulk of my time. And so it wasn't until last Friday that I was able to act on this quest.
 
I started by looking for the building owner, but didn't find much information through Google. Just a couple of numbers for businesses in the building. And so I struck off and headed to the building (I wanted to go there anyway, because I wanted to take my own photos of the sign, and last Friday was a gorgeous day). What I learned was that the owner had no office in the building. But one of the tenants had the phone number for the building manager and was very helpful in passing the number on to me. Unfortunately, calls to the manager were unreturned. The gentleman who provided the building manager's number also suggested that I talk to the folks in the pharmacy itself, because it had been in the building for a long time. The pharmacy, though, was closed when I made my visit.
 
When I called the pharmacy on Monday, I spoke to the pharmacist, who informed me that he had taken over the pharmacy only a couple of years ago and didn't know the history of the building. But he did offer a glimmer of hope: one of his employees had worked in the pharmacy for a number of years, and she may know the answer to the sign. Unfortunately, she wasn't in that day. She would be in Tuesday. I said I'd call back then.
 
Well, I did say that I have a full-time job, and I was busy on Tuesday. And so I didn't get a chance to call the pharmacy before it closed for the day. And when I called on Wednesday, the pharmacist told me that my contact, Betty, didn't work on Wednesdays. "I thought you were going to call yesterday," he said. I was, I told him, but I got busy. My next opportunity to reach Betty was Thursday.
 
And so I called on Thursday, and Betty answered the phone. I promised not to take too much of her time, and so I only asked a few questions. She was, after all, busy. She was working.
 
Betty had worked at the pharmacy for 30 years or so. Perfect.
 
Did the letters on the sign ever turn? Yes. The letters were designed to rotate when the sign was built and they did so until the late 70s, possibly later. In fact, not only did they revolve on their posts but they also lit up at night. At some point, the letters stopped turning and the owner had them fixed. But then they stopped working again and it was determined that they could no longer be repaired; either by lack of the right parts, total fatigue, or some other reason that Betty was not sure of.
 
I also asked Betty if she knew the age of the building itself. She said that she thought it was built in 1959, but again wasn't certain.
 
But I did, at least, have the answer I sought. This landmark sign did, in fact, rotate. And, as a bonus, it even lit up.
 
And my memory was intact.
 
My thanks to Andrea, for providing the photo that sparked the memory and dialogue, to OttawaStart, for joining in the conversation, and to Betty Eady for helping me with my quest.

^* FMS: Fear of Missing Something

Photo Friday: Hung Fatt

For decades, every time I've passed this small, Montreal Road Chinese restaurant, I've wanted to take a photo of its sign.

This Beacon Hill take-out restaurant looks as though it started as a home and, despite its size, does not offer dine-in service. Perhaps it is because the owners live there?

Though I've never eaten food from there, I've always been intrigued by this eatery's name. I mean, how appealing is the name?

I've always guessed that the food must be decent if a small, out-of-the-way restaurant has survived for more than 20 years. But, according to some reviewers at Urbanspoon, Hung Fatt has changed management and is no longer as good as it once was.

Have you eaten at Hung Fatt? How is it?

One of these days, I'll go. It's not a convenient restaurant for me: usually, when I'm out in the east end of the city, I'm visiting friends who offer hard-to-beat, homemade pizza. But someday, if I have the chance, I just might pick something up.

I just won't think of the name while I'm putting food in my mouth.

Happy Friday!

What's In a Name?

Several months ago, when my family and I were visiting our favourite sporting-goods store, I took a photo as we were walking up to the building. I don't know why I had decided to take the shot: most likely, because the lighting was so good.

I'm glad I took the photo.

This photo has not been retouched: the colours and lighting are exactly as I shot them.
Maybe that's why I kept the photo: the colours and clean letters really pop out.

A month ago, driving through Westboro, I passed MEC (pronounced "meck") and noticed something different: the sign had changed.

I noticed the new logo when I downloaded the store's app on my iPhone and also saw it when I received ads by e-mail, but it didn't sink in until I saw the large green square and three initials on the store.

Yes, the difference is like day and night (see what I did there?)

The new logo sucks.

The old logo identified the store, showed it's purpose. The mountains, M-shaped and angled towards the stores full name, Mountain Equipment Co-op, represented the great outdoors, showed that this was a store that was Canada's premier place to find the best in mountain-climbing gear, camp equipment, and canoeing supplies. The rich green also symbolized nature.

The new logo is plain, says nothing about what the store is. It's as dull and as non-descriptive as GAP or KFC. And what in nature is that hideous, fluorescent green? It's unnatural.

So disappointed, MEC. So disappointed.

I hope you find your way back to nature, because now, you just look like another corporation.

Update:

MEC has read this post and has responded to me through Twitter, as have some of my readers. Thank you. Let MEC know how you feel about the new logo: do you like it? Leave your thoughts in the Comments section.

Signs, Signs, Everywhere a Sigh

I was once walking in a district in Seoul, Korea, called Itaewan, where I was marvelling at all of the nightclubs with English names. That wasn’t uncommon; English was popular for many establishments. What surprised me was a sign for a nightclub called Viagra. The so-called wonder drug was recently on the market, so it was a particularly catchy English word.
 

Club Viagra was on a bit of a hill, and a long flight of concrete steps lead up to the entrance. Fascinated by the club, lit up in neon, I couldn't resist taking a photo. Years later, I posted it on my Web photo album with my other pictures of Korea. When I wrote a caption for the photo, one instantly came to mind and I quickly typed it in:

You have to get up to get in. 

My most humourous memories of my two-year stay in Korea are of the quirky uses of the English language. 

In 1997, the Internet was still pretty young, but that didn’t prevent a number of Internet cafés from opening. Hotmail was in its infancy, not yet owned by the invasive Microsoft, and Yahoo was more readily accepted as a term of exclamation—Yahoo!
 

I’m no lawyer (I don’t even play one on TV) but I’m pretty sure there is some copyright infringement going on here. For those of you who can’t see this picture clearly, this is a nic-nac store, selling stuffies, things to dangle from backpacks and rear-view mirrors, bangles, trinkets... in a word: junk. They don’t sell anything to do with the Internet.

There was a similar store, called Barbie, spelled with the same font as Mattel’s logo and complete with a picture of the revered doll. I’m pretty sure this store came into existence soon after the song Barbie Girl was released. Don’t bother asking if they sold any Barbies. 

Signs were everywhere in Korea, even on mountainsides. Lori and I would often get out of the cities on the weekends to escape the pollution, the smog, and the congestion, but not the signs. One weekend, we ventured about an hour north to a mountain called Taedunsan, which overlooked the city of Taejeon. There was a girder bridge leading to the top that had—you guessed it—a sign. But the sign was in both Hangul and English. At least, it looked like it was English, only I couldn’t understand what it was supposed to be telling me.
 

Pay no attention to the guy in the goofy hat. 

Grammar aside, I could understand the first rule—yes, they were rules. The second rule started off okay but then fell apart: I would never trifle with a girder bridge.

The third rule just didn’t make sense. What is a wrah drinker? No variations of pronunciation could help me out. To this day, I have no idea who I could and could not pass on that girder bridge...

A few blocks away from where I lived, a gas station with a garage and car wash opened. It was owned by Lucky Goldstar, affectionately known around the globe as LG. When it first opened, it was shining brilliantly with its large signage and little multicoloured, triangle flags lined its perimeter. When I saw it, I also thought they might sell fast food; in particular, hamburgers. Perhaps they were even going to expand to a drive-thru, because there was an image of an automobile tucked in with some lettuce between a hamburger bun.
 

But no, there was a spelling mistake in the sign. It didn’t say “Burger Car,” what I assumed was the Konglish term for “Drive Thru;” it said “Bugger Car”... Hmmm...  
I quickly read the sign in Hangul, the Korean language, which is an extremely phonetic language. Reading the sign in Hangul, I pronounced the name out loud. Now, try to say “burger” with a slight British accent and you’ll get the idea as to why “burger” became “bugger.” Do you now see the importance of a dictionary?  

One great thing about Korean gas stations is that when you filled up your car at one, they always gave you sensible gifts, such as air fresheners, bags for storing your trash—keeping the inside of your car clean. My favourite gift was the packs of tissues. 

One day, Lori and I were with a friend, filling up her tank at Bugger Car, and a friendly attendant gave us a shiny package of tissues. I instantly saw that there was English written on the package and asked my friend if I could see it. Maybe the name of the gas station was spelled correctly.
 

Don’t ask me where this catch phrase came from. But in Korea, where Club Viagra and Bugger Car exist, somehow I wasn’t overly surprised by Wank Passion Tissues. 

Now that you have seen how English has been used—or misused—in a foreign country, just make sure that the next time you see a t-shirt or a painting in Canada with a foreign language on it, make sure you learn what it means before you display it in public.

Forward Thinking

Those folks at the City of Ottawa Traffic Control Department are brilliant. Not only is their department among only three cities in the world that manufacture their own city signs and traffic lights (the other two are London and Los Angeles), but they also test their reflective signs for all kinds of vehicles.

I just hope the drivers at the bottom aren't the ones I hear screaming down Fallowfield late at night.