#halifax pride

[thecanadianweeb]

Halifax Pride 2019

[ameliacf13]

we love to se it folx

[allthecanadianpolitics]

After weeks of uncertainty, Halifax Pride has announced its parade will be going ahead next Sunday at 2 p.m. as originally planned.

The news came just over a week before the parade is set to begin. Those interested are asked to visit the organization's website for a link to the parade route, which will be slightly different from previous years.

Kevin Kindred, a member of Halifax Pride who regularly attends the organization's meetings, previously spoke to CBC News about his concerns surrounding this year's festivities.

He said Sunday that he hopes Halifax Pride can "pull it off" this year, but the lack of communication has meant that many organizations have made other plans.

"A lot of organizations had to pull out over the lack of certainty," he said. "This announcement can't undo the damage of failing to be transparent for months." [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[clickysteve]

The very first Pride in the Annapolis Valley in Nova Scotia took place while I was in town. It was a teeny, tiny, good natured affair, as one might expect from rural Canada, and I'm glad I got to be there and be part of it in some way. Shot on an old crappy digicam.

[freedomofthemoon]

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For the fellow Bluenosers. Yes, I have a connection to this market, but super bummed I couldn't get the time off my day job to attend. Hoping no one else misses out!

Venue is wheelchair accessible, and ASL assistance is available.

[mwarian]

Wanna learn more about Mwarian?

Click on the [Carrd Link!]

Some things to keep in mind:

-Truscum, transmeds, TERFs, and Exclusionists can fuck right off.

-Proshippers can fuck right off.

-Antiblack people who think terms like Mwarian, Oshian, or Erosian are unnecessary can fuck right off.

-Anonymous is on for now, but if asks become too abusive I will turn it off. Any racism, especially antiblackness, or LGBTphobia is not welcome here and you will be blocked so don't waste my time.

-Anyone else? Welcome!! :D

[malk1ns]

october 16 2024 @ flames, 4-3 S/O loss

D/s

Geno doesn’t like bringing his collar on road trips.

It’s something they fought over Geno’s rookie year, in the little apartment they rented when their first fumbling scenes got too embarrassing to do where either the Gonchars or Lemieuxs could hear them. Sid remembers brandishing the collar he’d gotten custom-made at Geno, who would cross his arms and sneer and spit out condescending-sounding Russian that Sid had no hope of understanding at the time.

Sometimes those fights ended in a fun way, Geno draped over Sid’s lap as Sid smacked his ass red and Geno rubbed himself off. Sometimes it ended in icy silences, Geno sealing himself away in the second bedroom they’d started to turn into a playroom but mostly was just an assortment of half-unpacked boxes surrounding the big four-poster bed and Sid pacing the hall muttering angrily to himself, rehashing the argument over and over in an attempt to win.

They’d been told they were a natural fit, the best way to ensure Geno’s smooth transition from Russia to the US. And their preferences certainly lined up in the bedroom, no problems there. But they both were cocky, headstrong teenagers, elite athletes used to getting their way, and even the natural harmony that is supposed to exist between a Dom and their sub can’t always smooth that away.

Now, though, Sid understands more about why Geno wouldn’t. He’d had so much to prove back then, that he was worth the effort and expense the Penguins were spending to keep him in America, and Sid had his own reputational issues in the league; in the end, it was better that Geno didn’t flaunt his collar in enemy arenas, didn’t make himself a target for hostile crowds and unfriendly local media.

They’ve turned it into a little bit of a game by now, too; the tease of Geno’s bare neck, the way Doms approach him in bars and at restaurants even if Sid’s right next to him because he looks unclaimed and Geno pretends to entertain them until Sid swoops in and takes back what’s his, the way the longer trips set them both on edge and eager to make up for the lack when they get home.

Sid’s happy with the arrangement. Relationships are about compromise, something they’d learned the hard way together those first few seasons, but Sid believes it’s made them stronger, able to weather storms that he’s seen break other couples. It had pricked at his pride for years even after he’d understood intellectually why Geno felt he needed to go without on the road, but now it’s just another one of the quirks that Sid loves so much about him. Geno drives too fast, he’s always late to video review, and he won’t wear his collar on the road. It’s just who he is.

Geno’s changing things, though.

The hats had been a fun introduction. Sid enjoys the scandalized looks he draws whenever he goes out in public with Geno’s name on him, likes the way Geno gets puffed up and smug and needs to be taken down a few pegs when they get home. And Geno’s so obviously proud of the collection. Sid remembers the first game after the hats had started shipping and they showed up in the crowd at PPG—Geno had talked about it all night, chattering on the drive home and all the way into bed.

Sid hadn’t expected much to come of the hats with his name. They sold well, he thinks, and Geno had sent him some pictures modeling one to get Sid worked up over the summer, but after the Halifax trip last year Geno put his Sid hat away, and that was that.

This season is different.

The first time Sid assumed it was an accident. They were running late for the plane, hurriedly packing enough for their mini-swing up into Canada and back home, and Sid figured Geno grabbed the wrong hat when he noticed Geno cramming the Sid hat on for his media scrum after the Red Wings game. He’d ignored the little thrum seeing his name on Geno’s clothing sent through him.

Now, though, it can’t have been a mistake. The western Canada trip is long, and Geno always starts packing well in advance to make sure he doesn’t forget anything; there’s no way he grabbed the wrong hat by accident this time.

Sid doesn’t say anything after the Winnpeg game, but after Calgary, with nothing the next day but sleeping in and piling on the bus to enjoy Banff with the guys, Sid can’t hold back anymore.

He stops by Geno’s locker on his way back from the cooldown room, lowering his voice so the waiting media can’t hear him. “Nice hat, bud,” he says, tapping the brim of Geno’s cap.

Geno smirks up at him, tilting his head to expose his bare neck. Sid purses his lips and turns back to the media gauntlet awaiting him.

Geno doesn’t wait for him. He never does in Canada; Sid’s media always goes unreasonably long, and if Geno hovers in the hallway someone invariably waylays him and tries to force him into giving an unscheduled interview. It doesn’t matter how many sharp words Sid’s directed at the media outlets that his sub is not to be bothered when he’s not on the schedule—the Canadian media is voracious.

Sid finds him in the hotel bar instead, tucked in a corner booth and laughing at something Ricky said. Sid watches them for a minute, and the weight of his gaze must be prickling at Geno’s neck, because he turns and finds Sid almost immediately.

Sid can see Ricky rolling his eyes as Geno gets up with barely a goodbye, beelining to Sid. He’s still got the hat on.

They’re quiet in the elevator up to the room, but as soon as the door clicks shut Sid’s got Geno pushed against the wall. Geno instinctively slouches down, widening his legs so Sid can step between, getting them as close as possible.

“You reconsidering that collar on roadies, eh?” Sid says, curling one hand around Geno’s throat and squeezing gently. Geno’s eyes flutter, and Sid can feel him swallow. “Sure seems like you want everyone to notice my name on you this year.”

“Just Canada,” Geno says, voice going low and dreamy like it does when Sid gets hands on him with intent. He slips under so easy for Sid. “They’re talk so much, say you’re leave next year, want to come play here, win with some other team—but they wrong.” His eyes lose a bit of their daze as he stares at Sid. “They wrong, and now they know for sure—you’re mine, you’re stay with me always. You’re let me wear your name, no one else.”

The fierce possessiveness in his voice is shocking, transgressive in a sub, and it gets Sid hard. He leans forward and nips at Geno’s jaw, relishing the way Geno yields to him, softening his body and inviting Sid in to do whatever he wants.

Geno wants Sid to be his? Sid can do that. He can tie Geno down on the bed and snap on a cock ring and ride him until Sid’s come as many times as he wants and Geno’s crying for release, and he can let Geno come on his face and make him clean it up after.

He’ll just have to make sure to put the hat somewhere safe first. Geno won’t forgive him if it gets dirty.

[snuggerudsz]

2 TIMES NICO HISCHIER DIDN'T KISSED YOU (AND THE ONE HE DID) l NH13

summary: two times nico hischier almost kissed his best friend and the one time he actually did it.

pairing: nico hischier x fem!reader

author's note: hello!!! finally posting something for my man, there will be more coming for captain hisch so keep an eye out for that. likes and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated!!! thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoy it!!! :) <3333

1.

It was the day before your 16th birthday. The night, actually. There were only a few hours until midnight, officially starting your birthday. You and Nico had been friends since you were little, and the tradition of being each other first birthday wishes had started so long ago that you couldn’t remember a time when the two of you didn’t do it. Keeping your childhood tradition alive, you and Nico sat in your backyard, sharing a blanket to try 一 keyword: try 一 to preserve yourselves warm, fighting against the cold Swiss night. 

Slowly, you lower your head, laying it on Nico’s shoulder. It wasn’t abnormal for the two of you to be touchy with each other, after all of the years you’d been friends, it was like second nature. You had never been as comfortable with anyone as you are with Nico. Which is why the silence of the moment didn’t bother you. 

For a moment, you turn your head to look at Nico, your best friend, partner in crime, and favorite person in the whole world. And he looks back, with his big brown doe eyes that make your heart flutter and your brain short circuit. And your faces are so close, your noses almost touching and you can feel his hot breathing on your face. For one moment, you swear he’s coming closer, alternating his eyes between your eyes and your lips. 

Until his alarm sounds loud. It’s midnight.

You two almost jump away from each other, wide startled eyes looking at each other.

“Happy birthday,” Nico says, an awkward smile gracing his lips.

You nod, saying thank you so quietly you’re not sure he heard you. But he did, Nico always listens to you.

2.

You had always known Nico was destined for greatness. He was the most hardworking, passionate, and dedicated person you had ever met in your entire life. However, it was still quite difficult to believe you really traveled all the way from your little part of the world in Switzerland to the US to watch the NHL Draft. But, if there’s a person in the world who deserves it, it is Nico, you know it. And when The New Jersey Devils take him 1st overall, you can’t believe it. You can feel your heart bursting with pride. Nico hugs you tightly and you whisper to him, telling him how proud you are. It’s one of the happiest moments of your life, how could it not? It’s Nico, your Nico, whom you’ve known since you were 2, and he was achieving his biggest dream. You were so happy for him. Still, there was this terrible feeling at the back of your mind. When he first left Valais for Bern, it was hard, but he was still in the same country. Then, he left for Canada, when the Halifax Mooseheads drafted him. And now, he’d just been drafted into the NHL, and it felt so much more real, and the unavoidable reality which Nico and you are never gonna live in the same country again dawned on you, while you were sitting there, watching him become a devil.

It takes a while until Nico has some time to talk to you and his family again, he has been giving interviews to what seems like every single hockey reporter in the world.  But when he finally gets to talk to all of you, he’s glowing, smiling so hard you wonder how his cheeks aren’t hurting. After talking with his family for a good while, you and Nico finally get some time just the two of you.

“Are you ok?” He questions, looking at you. Damned be Nico Hischier and his ability to read you, to always know exactly how you’re feeling. 

“Of course I am Ni. I’m so happy for you. So proud.” You answer, truthfully. “I’ll just miss you. But we’ll survive, right?” 

“Obviously. It’s me and you always, remember?” Nico lets a half laugh escape, smiling down at you, holding your right hand in his.

“Always, Neeks. Always.” You reply, looking up at him, interlocking your fingers with his.

You and Nico stare at each other for a few seconds, getting closer and closer until Katja calls you out from the other room for some more pictures.

+1

Summer was always amazing. Nico came home, and you’d make the most of the time you had together. This year the Devils’ had gone on to the playoffs, still ending their season short of a Stanley Cup, but it was still incredibly impressive what they had been able to do.  So, when Nico got to Switzerland, he definitely looked like he was more at peace with the way their season came to a finish, unlike previous years.  And it was probably one of the greatest summers you had in recent years. But not today. It is Nico’s last day before he has to go back to Jersey.

You had brunch with his siblings, and now you two were in his childhood bedroom. It was not your first time here; in reality, you probably had been in this room more than Nico himself if we’re being honest. Both of you were sitting in his bed, side by side, going through a box of old pictures Rino found a few days ago. There were so many memories, so many moments eternalized in those pictures. Nico and you had been laughing at the faces you made, at all of the things you’d been through together. 

You couldn’t pinpoint the moment you threw your legs on top of his, or even the moment you two had gotten so close. But when you noticed, you were almost on top of Nico. Truth be told, Nico had noticed. He always did when it was you. He knew everything about you. He knows that your favorite color is lilac, that you play with your bracelet and rings when you’re nervous, that your favorite subject was chemistry because it made you feel smart, and how you always hide your smile with your hands when you laugh 一 which Nico firmly believes should be a crime, because how dare you hide your smile? 

So, he noticed. And he had been fighting with himself for around twenty minutes now because you look way too good not to be kissed, but he was so scared. You are one of the most important people in his life. It had been (Y/N) and Nico for 22 years, he couldn’t lose that. It was very difficult to ignore the urge to kiss you, hold you, and tell you about how much he loves you, how he has been in love with you since you were 14, and how he has tried so fucking hard but he will never find anyone like you. It was bordering on impossible. Until it was impossible and, in a strike of courage, a second of bravery, Nico Hischier finally kissed you. Both his hands holding your face, while you, after moving on from the shock, reciprocate the kiss, one of your hands in his neck and the other in his hair. 

Nico kissed you slowly. He was kissing you like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. He smiled into the kiss, finally kissing the girl he always wanted. His heart was missing beats and he felt his hand couldn’t bring her close enough to him. Somewhere in the universe all of the stars could be burning out, the sky could cave but all he cared about was how she tasted and the warmth of her skin against his. Neither of you had ever felt so alive and you bith know this is the start of something beautiful.

[st-just]

hi I like your blog. I have a question that may be too personal so no hard feelings if you don't answer but could you talk a little bit about more about what you like/don't like about Halifax? im considering Dalhousie for grad school but have never been! and would like to have as much information about where I might spend the next 2 years of my life. thank you!

Oh sure! Though like, it depends on where you're coming from? Everything here is very relative. And also I'm absolutely certain I will forget numemrous vital things, do ask followup questions.

Most important thing is that the housing market is horrifying - the city's population started booming during COVID and the zoning and construction is only really starting to catch up now. Especially within walking distance of Dal getting a place to live at anything approaching affordable is going to be vicious. (This has unsurprisingly coincided with a large uptick in homelessness. Unremarkable to walk by a tent in a corner of some public park now).

Relatedly, the bus system is like - okay I'm not sure it's notably bad for a mid-sized-ish north american city, but it's damn sure not any better. You can get by bussing around on the peninsula, anywhere beyond 20 minute drives turn into 40-60 minute rides.

You will not have a family doctor, figure out the nearest walk-in clinic you can use for anything non-emergency.

The city's economy runs on some combination of students, tourists, sailors and soldiers. There are as many bars as you might expect (had the most per capita in the country for a while, don't know if we still do). Some of them are actually very good!

Relatedly, weed and liquor are both only legally sold by the crown corporation monopoly and a few weird specialty places.

None of them are massive, but there is a very nice amount of parkland and green space scattered throughout the city. The public (botanical) gardens are really beautiful in the spring-summer, and most are well-maintained (they just renovated and expanded the outdoor pool on the city Commons last year, even).

The waterfront has been thoroughly gentrified for the cruise ships over the course of my lifetime, but it's all still open to the public and grabbing one of the armchairs or hammocks to read in during the summer is lovely.

Provincially the government is the most thoroughly domesticated/red tory party in the country (they fairly literally ran to the left of the liberals). Full of corrupt backslapping, constantly getting into pissing matches with the municipal government, will probably govern for the next decade.

For reasons that I assume are downstream of all the students and having the closest thing to a regional theater scene east of Quebec, the whole city is IME very queer-friendly. For reasons I absolutely not understand, pride is in August here.

The public library system is basically the only part of the municipal government I think anyone involved should be unequivocally proud of, but it is great.

I don't really know the crime stats offhand but like, I left my apartment door unlocked probably 7 times in 10 through all of undergrad and it never bit me in the ass?

[rjalker]

[ID: Eight vintage pin buttons against light backgrounds.

The first is black with an upside down pink triangle in the center, and thin black text that reads, "Get your filthy laws off my body".

The second is white with black text between two black lines, reading, "Promote Queerness"

The third reads, "PFLAG, Halifax, Nova Scotia", with a logo of a heart and upside down triangle with a rainbow pride flag. In blue marker, someone has handwritten, above and below, "Proud mom".

The fourth shows a black whale with a plume of water above it, and reads with red text curving around the outside of the button "Gay whales against racism".

The fifth is bright yellow, with black text that reads, "Out of the closet and into the street"

The sixth is off-white with orange text that reads, "Help stamp out freedom -- support censorship"

The seventh is black, with a yellow sillhoette of a hand holding a police baton, with yellow text above and below reading, "Help the police - beat yourself up".

The eighth is dark orange and beat up, with black text that reads, "Your silence will not protect you", as a quote credited to Audre Lorde.

End ID.]

Sources:

Get your filthy laws off my body Promote Queerness Proud mom Gay whales against racism Out of the closet and into the street Help stamp out freedom - support censorship Help the police - beat yourself up "Your silence will not protect you"

[tortoisesshells]

11. laying their hand on the other’s neck; for r/v in the vamp roger au?

Touch Prompts

Roger Collins was in the kitchen, an unusual circumstance (even if she knew he was there in some vague way, a little thought like a slip of paper under the doors of her mind): the undead, Vicki had learned over the past several weeks, tended to not have much use for pantries and refrigerators. Unwilling to be rude, and taking her hand from the side of her neck where it had drifted, as it did, when she thought of Roger – she greeted him. Going to the stove out of habit, Vicki looked about until she spotted the kettle steaming in his hands. He was looking at Mrs. Stoddard’s tea service like it had bitten him. “It’s silver,” Roger hissed, by way of explanation. Vicki, lying, made a noise that implied understanding. “Silver,” he said again, “Silver! Only the best, for our sainted ancestors! Naomi Collins, they said, was the most beautiful woman between Savannah and Halifax, and in consequence, had been given a king’s ransom in jewels by a lovelorn pirate – my father never told me where this came from, but maybe that rascally old sea-dog stole it from a duke. I wish she had hit him over the head with it, and then thrown it into the sea.”

She took the kettle from his hands, blood humming, wondering what else a tea set – one that Mrs. Stoddard would give pride of place, at least – would be made of. Porcelain – or bone china, or creamware lent prestige by the passing years. But as her experience of fine settings began with Austen and ended in Collinwood, she let it pass, and went about preparing tea for herself while Roger – fussed, she supposed.

That wasn’t the right word, but she wasn’t sure what was: Roger, Vicki had thought since seeing his teeth, usually reminded her of a jaguar she’d seen in the Bronx Zoo, lazing in the afternoon like an alley cat on a sunny fire escape. Fussing seemed – too frivolous for that. He was annoyed, but he didn’t have the normal markers of it – not drumming his fingers or huffing – but she could see it, in his crossed arms and cocked head.

Still, it was something new for her understanding of the supernatural world: “You can’t touch silver?”

“I thought that was common knowledge.”

“You’re going to find this funny, Roger,” she said, discarding the leaves after they had steeped enough, “But I never gave it much thought before I came to Collinwood.”

“No late-night double features with Dracula and the Beast of the Black Lagoon for Miss Winters?”

“That would have been sneaking out.”

Roger, amused, brought over a cookie from the jar on the counter, carefully avoiding the silver tray. He glanced at her neck. “A curfew, at an orphanage? Your benefactors ought to stop cribbing from Dickens.”

“Oh, it wasn’t that –” she laughed, gathering the last things together, “It was lonely, but wasn’t like Dotheboys Hall. Shall we go?”

He looked at the tray as though he ought to be carrying it, but grimaced, and held the door – and each succeeding door, until he closed the drawing room doors behind them. The lock clicked as Vicki sat on the side of the couch nearest the fire.

He sat next to her, untying her scarf, and brushing her hair back over her shoulder. In the half-second between feeling a steadying hand on the side of her neck and the pain of the bite, she said, quietly, “Thank you for trying to get tea ready for me, Roger.”

[sonjabysonjamorgan]

i’ve only ever been to one pride parade cjsnxjdn like after that i ended up workimg every weekend or it got cancelled bc of pride board member shit (both in edmonton and halifax!)

also that pride parade sucked bc there was a tank from the army there

[allthecanadianpolitics]

https://www.cbc.ca/amp/1.7270449

It looks like CBC tried to frame the pro-Palestine protest at the end of the Halifax Pride Parade as a disruption that ruined the event lol. They mention it barely, but I was sitting at the end of the parade route and can guarantee the parade was pretty much over (the demonstration also only lasted like 10 mins max). I’m pretty sure I also recognized most of the protest as people from the pro-Palestine contingent of the parade that had just passed too, so I feel framing it as “protestors [running] into the middle of the road” is rather disingenuous. The article also neglects to mention that the parade grounds were sponsored by TD bank, hence why they had the demonstration there. (If I remember correctly, Halifax Pride released a statement a few days ago saying that they already budgeted with the money they got from TD bank, so they couldn’t change the plans for this year, but they plan to remove them from the budget for next year) They also took statements from two random people to try and act like there was actually any meaningful opposition. People had a pretty positive reaction when they passed by, and there were more people cheering them on when they actually did their chants at the end. I didn’t see the altercation that they talk about though, so that probably happened while I was in the bathroom.

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

We’ve heard them all before. From Greenwashing and artwashing to veganwashing and funwashing — in the minds of Israel’s most ardent critics, there is nothing the Jewish state won’t do to distract the world’s attention from the Palestinians.

The most frequent bit of “washing” that Israel is accused of relates to its progressive stance on LGBT+ issues in a region where sexual minorities face widespread persecution — an imagined diversionary tactic that anti-Israel campaigners have dubbed “pinkwashing.”

As noted previously, the pinkwashing claim evokes historical antisemitic libels, specifically that anything Jews do that is good or beneficial must be a part of some nefarious ulterior motive.

However, the pinkwashing charge is now being used as more than just a cudgel to attack Israel. Today, the accusation simultaneously serves as a shield to deflect criticism from the widespread homophobia that is prevalent in Palestinian and Arab society.

The latest example of this was in an article in left-wing Canadian outlet Rabble, which published a so-called “analysis” that authoritatively announced: “Israeli pinkwashing: ‘It’s a facade’.”

In the piece, Rabble writer Yara Jamal and the founder of “Free Palestine Halifax,” Katerina Nikas, argue that pinkwashing “paints Palestinians as backward, racist and barbaric in order to justify the oppression and unequal treatment of Palestinians both straight and queer.”

Aside from the segue into a series of unconnected statements intended to demonstrate Israel’s profiting off pinkwashing, such as how the Jerusalem pride parade is supposedly held on land from which Palestinians were displaced, the writers struggle to prove their central hypothesis that gay rights in Israel are a “facade.”

The article continues:

Israel promotes its capital, Tel Aviv, as a gay friendly destination in the Middle East, while at the same time failing to mention that the city is built on top of several villages where Palestinians were expelled from their homes and are banned from entering the capital. Palestinians queers are also denied asylum in Israel while trying to escape discrimination in their own communities. In October 2022, a 25-year-old Palestinian gay man, Ahmad Abu Murkhiyeh, was killed in the West Bank after unsuccessfully seeking asylum in Israel two years prior to his murder.”

First, Tel Aviv is not the capital of Israel — Jerusalem is and always has been.

Second, the assertion that Tel Aviv was built atop several Palestinian villages (and how this even relates to pinkwashing) is risible. The city was originally founded on April 11, 1909, and was known as Ahuzat Bayit before its name was changed (a picture of the 60 families standing in the desert land that became the neighborhood can be seen here).

Third, it is manifestly untrue that Palestinians are denied asylum in Israel. Last year, the government announced plans to issue temporary work permits to LGBT+ Palestinians who were claiming asylum.

Fourth, the suggestion that Israel is somehow responsible for the death of Ahmad Abu Murkhiyeh is a disturbing distortion of what occurred. Murkhiyeh had been living as an asylum seeker in Israel for two years before — for unknown reasons — he traveled to Hebron where he was attacked and beheaded by a Palestinian.

Finally — and most importantly — why do Jamal and Nikas and indeed so many Western journalists have such trouble facing up to the simple truth that homophobic attitudes run rampant in Palestinian society and that this is not Israel’s fault?

[therosewitchcottage]

𝕬 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖓 𝕹𝖔𝖛𝖆 𝕾𝖈𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖆…

Waking up this morning as the sunlight peaked through the curtains of our room, I took a moment to think about what a morning in Nova Scotia, my home province, looks like to someone not from here. Stepping outside after brewing a cup of coffee the though took a moment to settle, typically I don't stop to think about this one very often it seemed, so I looked around at my street and the road connecting us to the little shopping center. When I think of a morning in Nova Scotia, closing my eyes, I think of foggy crisp mornings and the fall. When autumn hits here, it's like the province becomes another world and that's the type of morning that really feels like home. We pride ourselves on the beautiful change of our trees, the bustle of downtown Halifax as people make their way to work, the smell of coffee from any of the cafes, but mainly the Tim Hortons that you can find on almost any corner or street. The glimps of the waterfront from the main street, shops opening their doors and flicking on their open signs. I think of my commute to work and the folks on the bus, talking to family or friends, finishing up last minute things for work over the phone, students reading textbooks to get a head start on that days lesson, children being taken to school...we often over look the small things that happen around us in our day to day, other people rushing past us in a blur. But during the autumn mornings in Nova Scotia there's a sense of slowing down (even just a bit) and taking in the changes around. I watch the people on my street start their cars, kiss their partners or children goodbye for the day, well wishes for good days and hurried reminders of forgotten lunches. It fills me with a sense of warmth to see others making their way around and about while taking a moment to greet each other, a "good morning" here, a "How's it going?" there. Folks holding doors open for each other, compliments being offered and "Have a good day" ringing in the air. Mornings can be rough, waking up before the sunrises though, that's a special time indeed. The air crisp no matter the season, the gentle song of birds and bugs in the spring and summer, the soft hush of autumn and winter. Holding onto your mug of coffee while just observing. Nova Scotia's not without its faults, but the beauty the land holds, and the glimpses of genuinely lovely human interactions is something to cherish during these times... I love getting to hold on to these morning moments, let them fuel me with hope, and joy.

[button-man-herald]

The Kingsport Clam

in a studio the size of Styrax, a lot of development is "Bottom Up", in the sense that so much of what we make is collaborative, iterative, and often the ideas we are most excited about come from spur-of-the-moment conversations over lunch.

While brainstorming what it takes to build a real town in the imaginations of our players, Ron and I got to thinking: what's the signature food of Kingsport? For those new to Button Man, Kingsport is the name we have given to our fictionalized version of Halifax, Nova Scotia, the setting of our upcoming 1920s adventure game.

New York has pizza, Chicago has hot dogs, Montreal has smoked meat, and Halifax has the Donair. But what about Kingsport? What began as a simple aside turned into a distracting, nagging question for me. What sort of food would early 20th century port-town northerners create to fit the bill?

Pics from Wikipedia and NYC Tourism

Cities' signature dishes tend to share some characteristics. Firstly, they are designed for mass appeal, at least so far as the locality goes. If the local area has a sweet tooth, its gonna be a sweet food, for example. To maintain mass appeal, it also needs to be inexpensive, possibly cheap as dirt. Think of a $1 slice in NYC. Of course the higher quality stuff is out there with a price to match, but the word of the delicious thing wouldn't be out there if it weren't for the decades of legwork done by the humble $1 slice.

So we have broad appeal, low price point, and usually these foods are also a celebration of either a specific demographic in the community, or of an industry of particular pride in the community. For example, is it so surprising that the meat-packing city became known for delicious and cheap hot dogs?

Lastly, although somewhat optional, I've noticed that a lot of local delights tend to come with a little joke or saying, especially in the Northeast. Something playful, letting everyone who buys in on the joke.

Keeping in mind the industries, social classes, and regional culinary traditions in the mix, I finally decided on something that felt plausible, and possibly even delicious: The Kingsport Clam.

What is a Kingsport Clam you ask? Why, its a dark roux-based chowder of mixed whitefish chunks (Haddock and Cod mostly), served on a toasted and buttered bun, cut not quite all the way so the bun keeps a hinge like a clam. Hot, filling, and relatively easy to carry, the Clam would be a favorite among the damp longshoreman looking for a satisfying meal on the cheap. Or so I imagined.

Trouble was, I couldn't shake the feeling that this food I dreamed up might be absolutely disgusting. For the good of the game, and for science, I had to make a Kingsport Clam.

Being so close to the Atlantic, cod and haddock aren't terribly hard to come by. I popped by the store and grabbed some cod, haddock, and threw in some spare tilapia I had at the house when I got home. The "hardest" part was making the roux, but even that just required some attention for a few minutes. Threw in the chopped onions and celery, added water, let it boil off the flour, added the fish, and after a some time stewing... it was done!

As I plated it up, I couldn't help but wonder just how many calories I had managed to condense into a single sandwich. But to my surprise... it was actually looking pretty good! After admiring my work for a minute, it was finally time to give it a try... and it was actually alright! My wife loved it, actually. Overall, too heavy for me, but half of one Clam satisfied.

I was happy to report my success to Ron, and thus the Kingsport Clam was finalized, and ready to be inserted as the official food of our fictional city! Finally I could stop thinking about it.