Where In Ottawa LVIII

Autumn is upon us and the season seems to have taken off in full force. The days are cooler, the clouds and rain have rolled in, and the leaves have started to turn.

If you blink, you might miss it.

This is my favourite time of year, when I get out with my camera more frequently than any other season. The Ottawa area is gorgeous at this time of year.

And because we're into a new month, it's time for a new Where In Ottawa photo challenge.

If you're new to this contest, the rules are simple:
Below, you will see a photo that I shot somewhere in Ottawa. Your job is to simply identify the location and leave your guess in the Comments section of this blog post. 
 
Leave your guess on this post only. Do not try to contact me through Twitter or through Facebook, or even by e-mail, as I need all answers to be transparent to all players, and not everybody has access to me through other social media. This blog post is one place where everyone can play along.

Plus, the comments are time-stamped, so everyone can see when an answer is submitted.
If you try to guess by any other means, whether you're right or wrong, I won't respond to that guess and you can't win.
 
For every day that the challenge isn't solved, I'll leave a clue in the top-left corner of my blog. Above the This is Me section.

The first person to correctly identify the location wins the challenge. You can guess as many times as you like. Only bragging rights are claimed by the winner: there is no actual prize.

Ready for this month's photo? For an added challenge, I've digitally aged the photo (which also counts as the first clue). Here we go...

Think you know Ottawa? Prove it!

Pioneers

When I looked around the room, saw all the fresh faces, I could see my class of 30 years ago.

All the aspirations and promise of what was to come. The bright eyes, the smiles, the energy of youth. They were the students who followed us, who are studying today.

"What was it like when you began the paper," a fresh-faced, second-year student asked me.

"It was scary," I said. "We had no frame of reference. We couldn't look back at previous issues for guidance. We were it."

We were it.

A 30th-anniversary cake, printed with the cover of the first Algonquin Times edition.

On the 30th anniversary of the launch of The Algonquin Times, I remembered all of the friends, all of the faces of the founding members of that paper. Michel, Becky, Marc, Mary, Kristen, Sean, and many more. I remember the long hours, cranking out sheets of paper on manual typewriters or, if we were lucky, some of the new computers.

The developing of photographs. The layout sessions. The copy editing. It was hard as hell. It was a blast. It was unforgettable.

Our teacher, Bob Louks, joked that he taught us all he knew about journalism in 20 minutes, but he taught us much more than that. He taught us to push ourselves. He taught us to always ask questions, to always search for the answers. He taught us to write in straightforward tones but to be creative with how we let a story unfold.

I owe my ability to write to a lot of people, but Bob is right up there at the summit. He gave me lots of opportunities to reach my potential.

Last night, in seeing him again for the first time in nearly 30 years, I forgot to say one thing to him.

Thank you.

Michel Hell (reporter, photographer, photo editor), me (reporter, copy editor), Bob Louks (teacher, publisher), Pat Dare (teacher, publisher).

Throwback Thursday: Dad and Son

Yes, we were both drunk. It was the only time that he and I were ever drunk together.

I don't remember what brought my dad to Ottawa on Canada Day, in 1995, nor do I remember why I chose to invite him to party with me, downtown, on the day before my first wedding anniversary.

The assistant manager to the Inniskillin wine boutique had held the second annual Canada Day party in the wine store, which was across the street from Parliament Hill, on Metcalfe Street. He had held the first party on the previous Canada Day, and that party turned into an impromptu, second stag for me.

I got very drunk on that day, too.

I wouldn't say that my relationship with my dad was estranged—not at that point, anyway. But it was a strange relationship. In 1995, he was trying to build our relationship to something bigger than it was, always telling whoever cared to listen about how my sisters and I meant the world to him, that there was nothing that he wouldn't do for us.

Except, be around for us when we were growing up, or when we needed him.

He would always have harsh words for the British—the "Bloody Chirps," as he called them—and wouldn't be afraid to share that opinion when he was in public, when he had an unwitting audience, much to my siblings' and my embarrassment.

And yet, here we are, getting drunk together, on a Canada Day, in a wine shop across the street from Parliament Hill.

The look in my eyes makes me laugh to this day. They're saying, "I can't believe he just said that," or, "get me out of here."

What was said as that photo was shot is long forgotten, but the looks on our faces is very telling of our relationship at that time, leading toward when we finally became somewhat estranged, had a falling out of sorts.

In a couple of weeks, I'll take a moment to remember that 15 years ago, he died. I wonder what our relationship would have been like, were he still here. Would we have grown closer or moved farther apart? What kind of grandfather would he be? Would he be a better granddad than he had been a dad?

When I see this photo, from more than 21 years ago (I just realized that my dad, in that photo, is only four years older than I am now), I only hope that when my kids are older, and we share a drink together, they won't have that same look if I put my arm around them.

Wordless Wednesday: Opening Night at Beau's Oktoberfest

On Debate Night

There's a reason why I listen to CBC Radio's The Debaters. Topics are meaningless and the debaters area always guaranteed to make me laugh.

Rarely, do I watch the political debates in Canada, because they are not particularly interesting and I never make up my mind about who to vote for in listening to the candidates: by the time the debate rolls around, I already know who I'm voting for.

I expected last night's American debate, between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump, to be entertaining: mostly, because of what I thought The Donald would say, whether he would shoot his mouth off or what half-truths and outright falsehoods he would sputter. He went up against a career politician and, like her or not, she mopped the floor with him.

Biggest zingers of the night: when Clinton went after Trump for not paying contractors for their work. She added that she was glad that her father, a fabric printer, never worked for Trump. Clinton also defended herself when Trump claimed she had no stamina: she countered that when he has visited 112 countries, to come and talk to her about stamina.

And one more, from Clinton: "Donald just criticized me for preparing for this debate. Know what else I prepared for? To be president."

It was hard to watch the American debate without my own biases, but I did listen to both sides very carefully and tried to take each candidate for how they presented. And I have to say that I thought Clinton came out on top, for calling Trump out on facts, for criticizing his stance on foreign relations, his treatment of women, and his cavalier views on nuclear weapons.

To me, Trump seemed to be mostly on the defensive, while Clinton took an offensive stance without coming off overly aggressive. She made her points without too many cheap shots, and I think that will ultimately help her in this campaign.

Trump, I don't think, won any votes when he explained that perhaps he didn't pay contractors for the work they provided because he didn't think they did a good job. And yet, he says his hotels and casinos are the best in the world.

And he said he's smart for not paying taxes. Hmm... 


Clinton made a good call, I think, when she looked at the camera and told Americans to get out and vote, to vote as though their country depended on it.

Still, the debate was boring as hell. There were few solid sound bites, there weren't the stupid Trump claims of building a wall on the Mexican border and making the Mexicans pay for it.

I didn't find the debate all that informative or entertaining. And maybe that's why I'll stick to listening to The Debaters.