Cry Me a River
Editor’s Note
The lights are outside my window again. It’s 4 a.m. and an emergency vehicle outfitted with a loudspeaker is blaring, “Do not drink the water. Do not bathe until further notice.” I’m 13 years old and my greatest fear at this moment is: how, without water, will I manage to deal with my hair?
In those days, I lived downstream from Sarnia, Ontario, in a town famous for making drinking glasses, moulding faucets and canning beans. Its sign read: Wallaceburg, population 11,500. Now, it’s been absorbed into the larger county, and its official name is Ward 5. Factory closures have dwindled the town’s population, but, like just about everywhere else, its independent stores and delis have been replaced by Shoppers Drug Mart, Harvey’s and Subway.
And that little water emergency? It was only one of many—lasting several days to several weeks—the result of pollution in the St. Clair River, a major shipping route and backyard to Dow Chemical, Canadian Industries Limited and many other industrial sites located upstream of us. During high alerts, cautious residents would buy camping-size jugs of fresh water, for both drinking and cooking. The jugs were shipped in and could be purchased out of the back of an 18-wheeler at the County Fair Mall (which no longer has a name and is simply emblazoned “MALL” in large red letters).
Knowing all this, you can probably imagine what drew me to a publication like This Magazine once I had reached an age where I could move beyond the very important question of my hair.
This issue, Alex Roslin examines the pollution caused by shipping lines—not just in the St. Clair River, but in all of our Great Lakes. Roslin, who was nominated for a National Magazine Award for his previous This Magazine cover feature “Killer Cop,” interviews former steamship engineers about a standard practice called “cargo sweeping.” Just why do they sweep out excess lead ore, petroleum coke, potash and other freight into our drinking water? What is the government doing to control dumping, and what does the potentially toxic freight mean for our water habitat?
Roslin’s in-depth report marks the very first in a series of investigative features This Magazine plans to run in the upcoming year. The Investigative Journalism Fund was established and introduced by our departing editor, Patricia D’Souza. It means This Magazine has more resources to lend to research-heavy articles. Roslin began work on his topic several years ago and, with the help of our fund, was able to continue his research—the result of which is a great cautionary tale in how governments bend to the power of big business.
But never fear: if you’re looking for the rundown on a province without environmental woes, This Magazine also illuminates Canada’s most misunderstood province, Alberta. We’ve long suspected that Alberta has its virtues. After all, our publisher, one of our interns, and many of our writers and artists hail from the flat land. Alberta’s own Ryan Schmidt and Iain Ilich detail the more positive aspects of the Wild Rose Country—from gay rodeos, to blue-bagging and beyond. Meanwhile, activist and author Karen Connelly weighs in on the other side, explaining in a personal essay why she refused to celebrate on September 1, Alberta’s official 100th birthday.
I’ve only been to Alberta once, by accident, but as our current issue shows, the Texas of Canada is a complicated place. If Ilich is right, it may soon escape its reputation for oil magnates and drunken premiers. And if nothing else, at least Alberta’s residents can bathe without fear.
Emily Schultz editor@thismagazine.ca
