Heart of Alberta

Residents in both Donalda and Gadsby voted overwhelmingly in favour of saving their communities from dissolution last week, but the whole issue has left many questioning the province’s motives behind ordering dissolution studies and whether or not their communities will actually be spared.

Although 85 Donalda residents voted against dissolution in a non-binding plebiscite last week compared to 29 in favour, the village will not learn of its future until Municipal Affairs Minister Hector Goudreau announces his final decision in a couple of months.

Donalda Mayor Terry Nordahl expressed delight in the outcome of the plebiscite, but says she is frustrated the province felt the need to order the dissolution study in the first place.

“I truly believe that most people here love the village,” she said. “They love it here because it is a good place to live. We work hard to keep it up and running and growing ... But there has to be simpler, less expensive and more effective ways of getting problems fixed than dissolution.”

The future of Donalda and Gadsby is essentially in the hands of their respective residents after separate public information meetings were held last week to discuss the prospect of dissolving both communities.

Representatives from Alberta Municipal Affairs hosted meetings to gauge the public’s opinion on the course of action that could mean the end of the villages forever. Comments were collected on behalf of Minister Hector Goudreau who will ultimately decide whether to dissolve the communities after non-binding plebiscites scheduled for early this week.

Scarla Maim is circling the cement floor of the Big Four building at the Stampede Grounds in Calgary in fine fluorescent form. Her bleached hair is reflecting in the light as she bites down on the neon green mouth guard and makes a turn that she's made hundreds of times in her two years in the roller derby league.

The little girl who once dazzled her family with figure skating flair is now being chased by a vicious group of women on roller skates dressed in fishnet stockings and short skirts, some even sporting war paint, intent on maiming her. Girls with names like Bamm Bamm, Loriville Slugger, Trailer Trish, Whiskey Girl and Topp Gunns. But Scarla is cruising the cement, taped-on track with great efficiency. Those pink and white wheels are rolling fast around corners just brushing past a screaming crowd cheering for a hit, a take-down, an errant elbow to the jaw; anything that might send Scarla to the floor and sliding into their raucous arms, only six feet away.

The aftermath is still being felt and it stings for those who withstood the degradations of the campaign only to make it into this week bleeding and vulnerable.

There is no dignity these days for men who were beaten in the streets by a fickle electorate nobody understands. It was certainly a mob mentality Monday night as Conservatives across this province came out in droves to vote for what they probably saw as the continuation of “Alberta's Century”. The Tories have done well branding themselves with the mark of prosperity and good times. Everybody else can curl up and die....

The Liberals won't return phone calls, the NDP never mattered and their leader conceded the election the day before the vote, the Wildrose Alliance have been put back into crazed, fringe party status and the Greens think they accomplished something with their slate of university punks running through the internet in real-life ridings.

Somewhere around 42 per cent of Albertans turned out for the big show Monday night, marking the lowest voter turnout in provincial history. A sad commentary they say, for democracy and those veterans who fought and died for the right to vote. Nobody would go to war these days for that mess....

But there could be a new war for Stelmach approaching. And since there is no real opposition to speak of, that conflict may...come...from...within...The Party.

A group of fanatical Indians break into chants and interpretive dance outside the entrance to the Chateau Louis Convention Centre, shortly after Ed Stelmach's victory speech Monday night. The blaring Hindu music from the Cadillac Escalade, mixed with their gyrations and chants, was enough for some middle-aged white Conservative supporters to seek safety back in the hotel, away from the noise and frolicking.

One chubby Conservative was bent on finishing his smoke and stayed until it was done, against his better judgment.

“Don't worry,” I told him, after noticing his nervous looks. “They're on your side tonight.”

Ed Stelmach makes his way around the dining area at Spolumbo's Deli in Calgary on a sunny Saturday afternoon in classic Stelmach fashion. His legs move in short, quick patterns from one table to another, as his handlers guide him a few steps in any direction to the next person who “really wants to talk to you, Ed”.

The premier's dark eyes shift behind his custom glasses and his legs and semi-stretched right hand follow the gaze's trajectory, as if all three are attached in unison by small strands of invisible thread.

“How you doing? How's the family?” Stelmach offers when the object is finally located after the turn-around.

A burly man with a NASCAR hat and a moustache responds quickly and in broken terms as Stelmach starts his prototypical small-talk.

“Yeah, we got twins – two year olds,” moustache man blurts out.

The premier's voice seems to fade, as if he doesn't want the media who have been following him all morning to hear what he's saying to these people; these just-happy-to-meet-the-premier-folks who happened into the sausage factory for lunch this fine sunny afternoon.

“Government spying on its citizens is as deadly to democracy as a needle is to a drug addict,” Joe Anglin tells me late Wednesday night from his home near Rimbey, without the slightest bit of hyberbole in his voice.

The 51-year-old former investment advisor and full-time provocateur was sharing one of his campaign ads that hit radio in central Alberta this week.

Anglin was at the centre of a full-blown government scandal last year, when the Tory government (and their arms-length utility regulator) were caught spying on him and other landowners in central Alberta as they built their case against a proposed massive power line project that would feed the United States with Alberta-born energy, running through their backyards. Much has been written about that, so I'll refrain from getting into all the details, except to ask where the public outrage was when the government was caught, without any doubt or excuse, hiring private detectives to spy on its citizens?

Kevin Taft's campaign van pulls a sharp right off a busy Calgary street and down a residential neighbourhood, making a quick u-turn at the first left. I attempt the same, but cars whiz by before I can completely negotiate the sharp turn. The van, which contains the Liberal leader, makes a clear bolt for the lights back to the speedy street.

I had been following them for a good 20 kms, from a party rally on the way to a meet and greet and door knocking at a mall in north east Calgary. I stayed close the whole time, unsure of the exact location. Taft's men understood this, but the driver seemed to have his own agenda, as if he had finally spotted the tail and had to shake it immediately. It's a good thing my resume boasts “evasive driving techniques”. I pulled out and over a curb, cutting off a white van as I made my way – quite literally – back on the campaign trail.

The bastards wouldn't lose me that easily. I caught a glimpse of their right turn down the hill, but by the time I made it to the busy intersection, the lights had changed and traffic was flowing against me. Any number of motorists are probably still angry with me, but I darted out and pulled another sharp turn, catching the van taking another right. I quickly caught up and made the curve. The van was waiting, already turned around in the opposite direction.

The driver and Taft's lead media man were laughing.

“The mall's right there,” the driver said, pointing back across the busy intersection. “We got lost.”

“Yeah,” I replied, “those were some effective driving manouevers.”

There was a serious issue that transpired in Stettler during the municipal elections last fall that nobody wants to talk about.

At the time, nobody wanted to even consider the matter, not any politicians, not editors at bigger papers than the Stettler Independent and certainly not elected school board officials.

The Red Deer Advocate, with their newsroom chock full of elderly souls trying their best to earn a pay cheque and go home, didn't even try to poach this story from me. It was a big one and after a year and a half of stealing my stories from the Independent, rewriting them for the Advocate and screwing up just about every fact along the way, the Advocate's editors decided it wasn't much of an issue.

In fact, Joe McLaughlin the Advocate's managing editor, wrote a piece for his paper warning people not to make it an election issue because, well, there are bigger things on our plate, and we can't quite grasp what this is or why it should concern hundreds of thousands of Albertans. Oh, Joe, you're right. Nobody who reads your paper would know what you're talking about anyway, but who gives a shit about human rights anymore?

What's the worst part of bungee jumping? I've never done it, but my guess is what happens when the plunge is done.

There you are one second, heading towards the earth at terminal velocity, feeling the rush of cool air push any loose skin on your face to the top of your scalp, a feeling of absolute terror and joy, of confusion and exhilaration as you plummet wondering when you'll feel the tug and be shot back up like a yo-yo before you hit the ground.

Then it's over and you're hanging there, completely suspended in mid-air. Somewhere in the space between a bridge and a lake, you're hanging like some sort of discarded puppet with loose strings waiting to be yanked back the way you came.

Paul Hinman knows this feeling. The leader of the Wildrose Alliance Party is a self-described risk taker, a boy scout, an outdoorsman, a lover of wildlife and, of all things, a unicyclist.