‘We will not bow’
Monday
It is the fourth day since a great trial has come to challenge our prairie centre. Floodwaters from the Bow and elbow hath prevailed greatly upon the earth. These have covered great landmarks, carried away the possessions of homes and snatched away many before their time. Much has been lost and much sorrow has been sown, but we are Calgarians. rendered naked by exhaustion, we have faced trials that would have turned weaker cities into modern-day Carthages. Toronto would be a swamp of upended streetcars, cologne slicks and striking flood-relief workers. yet our confidence emboldens us to defy our very plight and emblazon our resistance on Stampede-themed T-shirts.
Tuesday
Where there was once a flood of ruin there now comes a flood of the righteous: Carpenters, dump-truck drivers and proceeds collected by strangers dwelling in distant time zones. These Samaritans bind our wounds, they bake us bread, they quaff our thirsts with beer, they provide refuge to the weak and they resurrect a city undone. Blessed are the bulldozer drivers, the bringers of water bottles, the makers of doughnuts, the brewers of coffee, the mud-caked clearers of basements and cursed be the food inspectors who stand in their way.
Wednesday
Clad in windbreakers, leaders have arrived from the north and the east carrying offerings of pre-loaded credit cards and disaster relief. Here, they have beheld an afflicted citizenry tossed by tempest, humbled in deprivation, yet great in spirit. Within these city limits, meek zookeepers hath shouldered rifles and hip waders to subdue great beasts and rescue gentle creatures from certain death. Children and elders have toiled ceaselessly to move mountains of muck and debris. City crews have blazed new roads in under a day. even our tabby cats have persisted valiantly against the foul surging waters.
Thursday
I have not rested, I have not napped, and my thumbs are sore from Tweeting. And yet, on this, the 27th day, I still paid my property taxes. even the foulest forces of perdition shall not disrupt the normal course of our city business. But while I urge endurance, I implore Calgarians to not test what has already injured us. My handlers prevent me from directing vile nouns at those who would challenge the deadly river by canoe and rowboat, or from allowing them to be claimed by natural selection. So too, do I reserve scorn for those who would run petroleumladen rail carriages over our flood-battered bridges. I am a benevolent mayor, but I can be a vengeful mayor. do not stir my wrath with incaution.
Friday
The oracles say that Calgary’s great trial is but a vision of what is to come: Forevermore, the cities of the world shall contend with increased plagues of disaster and suffering. Although few will be spared, be not afraid of sudden disaster when the day comes that you are to hear of great storms and floods, for in Calgary we have met the spectre of decay and prevailed. We shall rebuild our walls, repair our streets and restore our foundations laid long ago. Where fig trees once stood, we will plant cedars. What was once potholed shall now be smooth. And above all; we will Stampede. But yea, this is no miracle and this is no act of providence. This is Calgary.