Ho, ho, ho! Merry Portage Avenue

Portage Avenue, on a Saturday. A street I have walked hundreds, likely thousands of times. This particular Saturday was different as I set out to take the 35-minute walk back home to Wolseley via Portage after teaching a writing class for new Canadians at the Millennium library.

Portage Avenue at Langside, at Furby, at Young Street -- all of these streets are generally desolate on a Saturday afternoon. Grey and sterile at this time of year, the smell of greasy fries from the neighbouring fast food restaurants permeates a street covered with litter. Langside, Furby, Young: three side streets made infamous by six o'clock news reports of stabbings, muggings, and killings. I know this pavement and have seen just about everything in its cracks.

Portage Avenue is a street I know, and know well. I have worn out more than one pair of shoes walking to destinations downtown and back home again. I know it as a place where I wear my "street-face," even in broad daylight; that is a look I have when I find myself downtown and not always comfortable.

I avoid people's eyes, always, never looking right at their faces, never. It's something I have done for years, and makes me sad to do, but it's something I learned to do to protect myself after having had more than one scary experience.

Don't look at people and they won't bother you. If you engage, you're more likely to be asked for money, harassed or to find yourself in some kind of conversation you'd really rather not be having, or an interaction you never asked for. Or worse. Everybody knows about the desperation and crime in the inner city.

So, on this beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon in November, as I continue walking west on Portage, I see the people -- of all ages, and all ethnicities, all coming out for the annual Santa Claus Parade.

Despite all of my years living and walking in this city, it is my first experience with the parade, and this year just happens to be its 100th anniversary.

I see the floats with shiny silver glitter and the children laughing with their parents, and teenagers giggling, and seniors strolling hand in hand, others gathering in small groups to visit, and others still, parking their vehicles to get a better view of the festivities to come.

The smell of hot chocolate is sweet as is the picture perfect view of this Portage Avenue, this street I thought I knew so well, so completely different today, with colour, and life, and vibrant activity, and pride and joy and peace.

Most importantly peace. There is innocence and anticipation instead of anxiety and apprehension. And people eagerly and happily walking together, in pairs, in groups, alone, it doesn't matter.

Everyone looks happy. And I notice something else. I notice that people are looking at each other. And then I realize that I'm not wearing my "street face" anymore. I'm looking at people's faces, too, into their eyes. And I smile. And I feel happy. I am walking down Portage Avenue and I am happy.

There are elves, there are lights, there's a drumbeat in the midst of the crowd's excitement. There's a middle-aged man sporting reindeer antlers on his head, there's an elderly lady wearing a bright red Santa hat, the parade volunteers taking care of details, and the hundreds and more hundreds of people gathering together on this street.

Even the police cars and police officers fit in as part of the community. Entire families sitting on the blanket-covered curb cuddled up and ready to take it all in. This is a Portage Avenue I have never known.

The convertible cars showcased, the colourful and incredibly decorated floats made with care and detail by such an assortment of individuals, community groups, and companies. Everybody contributing something. And it doesn't matter who you are, or where you come from. Portage Avenue, at least for today, is a place proud to be what it is.

This is the Portage Avenue I wish we could see all of the time. This is what it means to be Canadian, to be diverse, to be together, to be free and at peace, without fear, and without the "street face."

I arrived home, took out what I used to consider tacky Christmas decorations, and put up my artificial tree. Despite my aversion to the consumerism associated with this holiday, I've become a believer in Santa again.

Call me naive but I'm going to wish for many more days like this on Portage Avenue.

Janine LeGal is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition November 17, 2009 A11