On Christmas morning I sat down to read the Coast as the household settled in to their routines, and found their spots to settle for the unwrapping.
I didn't know Willard, and I don't know Lewis, but this memorial was so well-written and so touching. It has me in tears.
The camaraderie, the friendship, the love that develops between neighbours, and in the best neighbourhood, at that, is something that continues to make Halifax the gem that it is.
I've been in this city for the better part of a decade, and I've lived in quite a number of rentals where it was barely affordable but we made it our home.
Nowhere, in Halifax, do I feel as much at home as I do in this neighbourhood. This one, in the article. The one, bordered by the citadel, the commons, the harbourfront, and possibly the Hydrostone, depending on where you draw your boundary lines.
Never has a neighbourhood been so maligned, and chewed up, and spat out. I recall being only a child, and warned away from "the square", without even knowing what/ where it was.
I think maybe that person was trying to keep the best part of the city, and most of the best people in it, a secret, so that it could be treasured.
Lewis, I am sorry for your loss.—North end neighbourhood lover