Bashing My Burlington

(Picking on my city instead of yours, Toronto)

It’s simply not nice to say, na na, my city is better than yours.

Still, much too often I blabber on to my Toronto coworkers about how my Burlington has peace and quiet and their city doesn’t, and so I could never live among them and their hullabaloo. I refer also to other great gifts that my Burlington bears, namely relatively affordable living, a virtual absence of crime and enough big city stuff but not too much. Plus, we’re more central to other things in southern Ontario than is their vaunted Big Smoke.

Now though, it has come time to dissect my suburban narcissism and cut right to the smarmy inner workings of my community. Time for some perspective or fair treatment, in other words. While Toronto isn’t all endless streams of traffic and a never-say-you can’t-work harder attitude, Burlington isn’t all glorious scenery and sanctified green space.

As a matter of fact, there really isn’t much to look in many parts of the city, especially the newer areas. Yet young families are literally climbing over each other to snag for themselves a choice dwelling in northeast treeless and nondescript neighbourhoods. Houses there are placed so closely together that the dad in one house needs to constantly remind his eighteen-year-old daughter to close the drapes because the eager sixteen year-old son next door has top-notch vision.

My first real complaint: I imagine myself looking down from our treasured escarpment and into the heart of whiteness. Burlington simply isn’t noted for being multi-racial and ethnically diverse. Much like Oakville next door, there is an almost unseemly preponderance of colourlessness in our population. Funny, considering we boast many fine restaurants that run the gamut from Caribbean to Lebanese to Thai to Mexican cuisine – all featuring many inspiring dishes. Don’t these people live in our community somewhere?

From colourlesness I turn to our highways as I note that in Toronto, at least you can travel a few miles without actually seeing one. Impossible in Burlington. There is practically no location in the city that isn’t one mile from a highway, be it the constantly clogged QEW/403 combo or the more scenic and less horrendous Lakeshore Road (Highway 2), or even Highway 5 to the north. On the positive side, my city is popular with out-of-towners because of its proximity to major attractions nearby (such as Niagara Falls and yes, Toronto). In fact, I was once told by someone in the Tourism Burlington office that’s the basis of their advertising.

Near that tourism office is the scenic Spencer Smith Park, a longtime favourite for my wife and I and host to many great festivals including the wildly popular Sound of Music Festival. But the park that stretches along the western shores of Lake Ontario isn’t quite as plain and simple as it used to be. About ten years ago the city installed a very nice boardwalk for those who like to amble close to the water in style. This summer the park has had a major facelift featuring the addition of a fancy new restaurant and much-improved kids play area, and soon a picturesque pier. These fresh amenities must all cost quite a bit, we should have figured. The other day I pulled into the parking lot and realized they’re passing part of that cost onto motorists who used to park gratis. Since my daughter loves playing at Spencer Smith, I guess I will have to shell out. The fee isn’t a king’s ransom, but it’s the principle that bothers me.

Burlington’s famed Royal Botanical Gardens used to be free too, in my youth. Now they charge too, and not just a few bucks any more I see.

But at least the RBG smells nice. The Maple Leaf factory on the east side of town, on the other hand, is a stinking disgrace. From where I stand on the platform of the Appleby GO station every morning, my nostrils can hardly wait for the train to come rolling along so I can be crammed tightly in a locomotive full of commuters rather than take one more ungodly whiff of a chicken’s worst nightmare.

It is from that GO station that I try every day to catch the bus. Why try, you ask. Because no matter what time the train arrives -- early, late or on time – the bus invariably seems to be at least 10 minutes off or has just left, even though the schedule indicates otherwise. After a long day in Toronto, the last thing I need is to be upset by having my only means of travel home to be inextricably off schedule. Nevertheless, the one thing I can always count on with Burlington Transit is that I can never count on them.

If and when the bus does eventually get to you (oh, by the way, it doesn’t run early on Sunday or much past dusk any day), it takes you to many interesting locales: such as major malls and strip malls, schools, one lovely older or newer neighbourhood after another, the miniscule downtown area, some nice parks … basically up and down and the grid system upon which Burlington is based. You can either go north, south, west or east. It’s tough to find a street where you can travel in a radically different direction, say south-southwest. So there’s never much guessing which direction you’re going. The good thing is that it’s hard to get lost in Burlington. And even if you do, there’s always a trusty highway just blocks away to end your confusion and set you free.

If you get the idea that there’s not a lot to do in my Burlington, you may not be far off – if hardcore excitement is your game. I don’t see it that way of course, because all I want is my safe neighbourhood with my family in tow. I like that all the stores I need are nearby and I don’t have to drive too far for anything. If I were younger and unattached, though, I’d probably be screaming for brighter lights and more nighttime activity. Not to say that we don’t have our bars and hot spots. It’s just that they’re not as sophisticated and “hot” as those rocking Toronto joints always seem to be. As my old friend Paul always used to say, “When I want to have fun, I leave Borington.”

Remember Paul, boring is often in the eye of the eager adolescent. As I approach 40 and am firmly rooted in my familial responsibilities, I’ll take my town’s quality education – both elementary and secondary schools, public and Catholic systems – any day. I’ll also gladly take the excellent healthcare including at Joseph Brant Memorial Hospital, where my little girl was ushered into the world. I’ll also accept that I now have to pay a little to visit the wonderful waterfront (best in the Golden Horseshoe, I’d say). I don’t have to pay anything to stand atop the ravishing escarpment. Simply by setting down roots in Burlington, I also reap the benefits of clean and sophisticated living that espouses all the charms of modern-day living without too many of the downfalls.

To my Toronto friends I simply say, you chose your city for certain reasons and I chose mine for some of the same reasons. My city isn’t any better than yours no matter what I say, though I might continue to say it, especially when your city frustrates the living hell out of me. But as you can see, my city frustrates the crap out of me too. Or maybe it’s the fog in my head from the pollution that wafts over the bay from Hamilton, where I was born and raised … and learned to hate Toronto.