I've been a little behind in my local news reading lately as I've had my nose in more fictional reads than I'm accustomed to, so I nearly missed this gem by one of the few really good writers left at the Free Press.
I've long argued the civic despair in the mid-1990s was not just about the loss of the Jets, but a vestigial sense of entitlement displayed by a city that never quite got used to fact it wasn't important any more. Many times since then, I've argued Winnipeg must get over itself and finally grow comfortable within its medium-sized, ordinary-city skin.
And now that the Jets are back, I wonder whether this will ever happen. I wonder whether the jingoism of the "True North!" chant has subsumed our collective capacity for self-reflection.
Although I think Bartley's concerns are justified, I continue to find solace in the small community of Winnipeggers who don't need or care about the camera eye of the outside world. It is in this community that Manitoba's real DIY spirit lives and thrives, where questions about the prevailing order can be asked without suffering immediate knee jerk reactions, where the most honest and earnest art is being created.