Dearest First-Years

I was born and bred a Hamiltonian. My parents raised me to love Tim Horton’; they taught me the proper Hamiltonian dialect. Example: I say, “Howzabout we go to Tim’s?” instead of the Canadian way, “You’s guys wanna go to Timmie Ho’s?” Finally, they fed me steel for breakfast. Captain Steel Puffs. Coca Steel. Special S cereal, with tiny shards of steel and dried fruit.

I must be specific about my heritage though, I’m a mountain Hamiltonian. That means I grew up on the mountain or as anyone who has ever seen a real mountain would refer to it as, the “Escarpment”. An outsider wouldn’t think that a shift in the earth would be the divider between poverty and wealth and everything in-between, but it’s true. People living “on-the-mountain,” as it is referred to, more than likely live in a relatively new home; in a nice suburb, where everyone is white or Italian. Anyone from down-the-mountain probably lives in a smelly apartment building where one background is just as common as the next. That’s the truth. The ugly and racist truth. The Mountain is safer, cleaner and richer than any part of north Hamilton (i.e. anything north of Main St.) and every Hamiltonian knows it. If I were to explain the dichotomy between upper and lower Hamilton in laymen’s terms, or Dofasco men’s terms, it would be this: On the Mountain=Rich, Down the Mountain=Not.

For a moment there I thought that, perhaps, I was being harsh with the whole “death” part but then I realized that 99% of people reading this grew up outside of Hamilton...cough, London, cough. In all reality, if you grew up on a farm in Flamborough or Ancaster you’ve only ever gone down the mountain to get a criminal check at the police station, you were being tested for your G2 at the Ministry of Transportation, or you were getting your passport at the building beside the other big building on King St. You are not a true Hamiltonian in the purest sense.

A good Hamiltonian is sheltered; either sheltered from the “bad people” living downtown or from the “rich people” who lived on the mountain. I used to be afraid of the people loitering around the statue of Queen Victoria (ten points if you can name the park where Queen Vic is located). I was not encouraged to see the beauty in downtown and for nearly two decades I stuck up my nose to the commoners and old, junky buildings who abode there. It was easier to feel important when I compared my family’s income to that of someone “below” us, literally. The Tackling Poverty in Hamilton website states that 20% of Hamilton’s citizens live at or below the poverty line. There are roughly 647,634 people living in Hamilton. You do the math.

I am glad beyond all measures that my eyes were open to the city around me, and I have Redeemer to thank for that. In my first year I began to notice that people in my classes were commenting on how gross Hamilton was and I was thoroughly offended. Not only did they not have the right to say something about my city, but they also were hicks, the lot of them. Hamiltonians don’t like Torontonians and they don’t like hicks.

I was slowly becoming passionate for a city I realized I didn’t know very well. Whenever a Redeemer student was forced to go downtown (or, even worse, outside of Meadowlands) and returned declaring Hamilton to be the grossest city ever (and that they needed to bathe) I would quickly stand up for my city and bring up very interesting facts as rebuttal. Example: Hamilton has more waterfalls than any other city in the world! Or Martin Short grew up in Hamilton. Bam!

Unfortunately, I slowly ran out of interesting facts - I was sheltered remember - so I decided to find out more for myself. I volunteered at SISO once a week and I signed up for the Hamilton Missions Trip. That trip changed my life in many different ways and one of those ways was by unsheltering me. At first I thought it would be a copout to be on a missions trip down the road from my house. I was wrong. Every day our mission team would visit places dedicated to helping communities (e.g. Mission Services, The Living Rock, The Freeway Café, Robert Land, etc.) and grew more appreciative of Hamilton as the week progressed. I met amazing men and women from drastically different walks of life who not only talked the talk of social justice but also walked the walk. If the world were a fair place these people would be making more than NHL players.

On the last day of our missions trip I realized something larger than myself. I was falling in love with Hamilton, not because it offered me fourteen waterfalls or the post-secondary education of Eugene Levy, but because when I started meeting the people living in Hamilton my worldview of the city changed drastically. My city stopped being the abrasive and dirty place I believed it to be. I stopped resenting it for what it lacked but started seeing what made up the city - good people and good potential.

Today, I live down the mountain. When I was 14 I would have been less surprised if I had become a plumber and moved to Peru. I live on Main and Hess, and I am thriving off of city life. I can walk to the Farmer’s Market and buy fresh food all year round; I can cross the street and watch a performance in North America’s oldest amateur theatre and I can walk to Lake Ontario and enjoy the view of the city, both down the mountain and up the mountain. I’m proud of Hamilton and other Hamiltonians who work hard to better the lives of others, including Shelia Copps… but don’t tell my parents.

This is my final paragraph and I must warn you, there will be harsh words. It’ll start with my appreciation to you students who take time to go into the inner-city weekly to volunteer with children who are not always angels. Those children are Hamiltonians, just like me, and you help my city when you spend time showing them Christ’s love. Now for the fire: If you have never been outside of Redeemer’s campus or outside of Meadowlands then shame on you. You are doing yourself and others a disfavor by cooping yourself up in your dorm night after night. I know many Redeemer alumni who never stepped foot on a city bus and that is ridiculous. “Oh, Joy, you don’t understand how busy I am” or “I would go if I could find my mace.” It wouldn’t kill you to get out of your precious bubble. Believe me, I speak from past experience. I will leave you with a list of things you can do in Hamilton, scratch that, SHOULD do in Hamilton. I’m not asking everyone to be a Mother Teresa and go into the inner-city, but start somewhere and you might feel the tug to explore more of the Hammer.

Good luck and go with God…and a friend if you’re in Gore Park after 10 pm.

Things to do in the city:

If you’re artsy you need to experience …

1) the Art Crawl on James St.

2) the Art Gallery of Hamilton (the first floor is free on Fridays)

If you’re into nature you must visit…

1) Webster’s Falls, the home of many a Redeemer marriage proposal

2) The Royal Botanical Gardens (you might catch a glimpse of my parents when you’re there!)

If you want to dance the night away…

1. Wednesday nights + The Absinthe= Motown = The Jackson 5 and Marvin Gaye

2. Hess Village. I recommend CHE for dancing that doesn’t involve making babies on the dance floor.

If you want to help…

1) Attend TrueCity and CrossCulture, they are great places to start

2) Deedz, every other Friday night a group from Redeemer hands out food and drink to people downtown. A great way to see the local colour.

And if you are a sports fan…

If you are sick of watching the Ticats lose, go to Toronto and watch the Jays, Raptors, Argos and/or Leafs lose.

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