Sometimes a tree branch starts growing in a direction that you don’t want. There are a number of ways to control this growth, ranging from pruning to capping, but in the end all you’re doing is preventing the tree’s natural growth.

It makes sense if the tree is infringing on your home or at risk of causing damage, but to cap a tree simply because you don’t like the way it looks — or, worse, the colour of its foliage — is ludicrous.

Yet that’s exactly what some are suggesting we should do in London, Ontario. Essentially, there are those who are content to cap the Forest City’s growth until Oct. 27, 2014.

You see the sentiment each and every time there’s an article that even casually discusses the potential that the current London city council make financial decisions. You read a similar sentiment on Twitter and other social networks — a “woe is us” mentality that can only be rectified when prune everyone from council chambers and start fresh.

There are Twitter-based municipal election countdown clocks and a steady diet of wishing away time in the hope that October 2014 will magically appear.

But that’s still a year and a half away. While some may be content to put the City of London in a position of temporary inertia for almost 18 months, I’d rather foster an environment where the Forest City can continue to grow in a positive direction.

And those suggesting the current council should be prevented from making any further decisions are also the very same ones loudly criticizing our elected representatives from making any progress.

Our political system isn’t perfect, but it can work. Lament all you like about poor voter turnout, but a majority or plurality of Londoners chose the representation they currently have. It’s a choice they made then and many may still be satisfied with their actions. Others may not.

Regardless, everyone has an option that’s far more sensible and productive than waiting for an Electoral Godot to arrive in October 2014.

There are those who suggest that talking to plants can help them grow. Like a tree, council is a living, breathing organism — and you do have the right to talk to your elected representatives.

You have the right to assume your branch is more important than the other 13 in the Forest City. You have the right to suggest that your cluster of leaves has a monopoly on understanding what’s best for the city as a whole. And you have the right to undervalue the efforts, contributions, and desires of the tree’s other leaves.

You have those rights, but that doesn’t make you right.

Just because you, personally, don’t like the way the tree’s growing doesn’t mean that there aren’t many more who want to see nature take its course. Like the book, that Electoral Godot may never arrive if a greater number of Londoners feel satisfied with its representation.

A tree gains its majesty not from the prominence of an individual branch, but rather the dynamic interplay of its collection of branches and leaves. When we look at a tree, we see not the individual leaves, but rather a cohesive canopy all working together supported by a strong trunk. Each year, that tree not only gains another ring but also changes ever so slightly.

And, most importantly, cutting off that branch to retard growth may work. But it also might cause the tree as a whole to die.

Instead of artificially capping growth, perhaps we need to continue to feed, water, and nurture our Forest City. Some may want to wait, but I don’t see the value of delaying any growth for a year and a half.

All that will do is allow those other trees in the forest to get bigger and claim even more of our sunlight.

Like so many times before, the death of mainstream media has been greatly exaggerated. But if anything has died as a result of the questionable coverage of the Boston terrorist bombings and subsequent manhunt, hopefully it’s the prevalence of jumping the gun when reporting potential smoking guns.

And that’s something for which both traditional and social media are guilty.

With tonight’s capture of the second alleged terrorist in the Boston Marathon bombings, we can begin asking key questions about why and how this act came about. However, the questioning over the role of traditional and social media has been rampant since the seconds of the attack.

And while there are those gleefully professing that this is proof of the dominance of modern social networking over an outdated mainstream media machine, that is far from the truth.

If any side chooses to claim a victory in this coverage, it will be a Pyrrhic one at best. The confusion, misinformation, and irresponsibility of those Tweeting actually proved why a responsible professional media is important. Although some members of that same mainstream media didn’t exactly comport themselves well.

Most notably, CNN has taken its lumps for a litany of errors and poor judgement calls, including incorrectly reporting suspects being taken into custody. And while the Twitterverse was gleefully sharpening its pitchforks, it failed to put that same level of razor-sharp concentration on facts and accuracy. From ‘outings’ of innocents to mass-distributing police-scanner reports, there was not a lot to be proud of on-line or off.

And we haven’t even broached the topic of brutally racist and ignorant commenters, which plagued both sides.

It’s our own fault. We created this monster and our demand for instant gratification only feeds the beast. We’ve created a society where instant commentary is valued over thoughtful analysis. We celebrate a content-at-all-costs culture where context is a casualty of war.

The world has sped up to the point where maintaining control is a challenge. Like in hockey, where the elimination of the red line increased the frequency and severity of high-speed mid-ice collisions, so too has the advent of the citizen journalist and “live-Tweeting” caused traditional media outlets to work so fast that they’re self-inflicting concussions on their brands.

Much of the content “broken” or shared on social networks was merely rehashed information shared by traditional media sources. Some performed better than others — both in terms of the media outlets reporting the news and the social media posters who were curating and sharing that information.

There will always be a need for a paid-for, independent, mainstream media. Very few social media users are actually breaking news — and even fewer are doing it on even a semi-regular basis. For the most part, they’re engaging in “me-too” journalism — the act of taking published reports or topics exposed by mainstream media and adding their own opinion.

There’s nothing wrong with that, as long as it’s kept in perspective.

Blogging is not new; social networking is not borne of the Internet. For over a hundred years, newspapers have been creating and encouraging the same type of content through opinion columns and letters to the editor. It’s just now the bar to mass distribution of this has been lowered.

But instead of expecting bloggers and other citizen journalists to step up their game, the traditional media outlets have started to lower another bar — the one guiding the vetting, approval, and distribution of content.

For a long time, my biggest concern about citizen journalism and blogging was that many of its practitioners didn’t display even a rudimentary understanding of libel. The greater concern, it seems, is that for some there is little to no concern for ensuring content is accurate.

In our rush to “first” when did we sacrifice our desire for “correct”?

As a result of this social age, traditional media has been challenged to find a way to stay relevant. Instead of embracing what it was good at — thorough, thought-provoking analysis, and a steadfast desire to present the facts — it has tried to outscoop the Twitteratti.

Unfortunately, it has slipped down that slope to doing so at the expense of fact-checking and sober second-thought. The casualty is credibility.

For some social networkers, maintaining that credibility is not a big concern; for a responsible — and effective — media it must be the foundation of everything they do.

So do the errors in reporting, speculation, and judgement displayed in the coverage of the Boston Marathon murders represent the end of the mainstream media? Far from it.

If we’re lucky, we’ll all learn from these errors. We’ll realize that quality, accurate content has immensely more value than getting it on-line first. And we’ll finally be able to mark the end of the “first” era and celebrate the ushering in of the “right” era.

In the interest of informing its citizens, It may not only be time for London’s municipal government to join the party — but it may also be time for potential ‘guests’ to send in their 2014 RSVPs early.

Though I’m generally opposed to party politics, I’m not so naive to think that there aren’t like-minded councillors representing wards in municipalities across the country. So maybe it’s time to ‘out’ the factions at the beginning of the process and afford London’s citizens the respect they deserve by giving them the information they need.

It can be argued that the municipal level has the most day-to-day impact on our lives; yet it’s also the level of government that many know least about. Being up front and honest about pre-existing affiliations at the municipal level would help citizens make a more informed decision. It would behoove citizens to know not only who’s drinking which flavour of Kool-Aid, but — more importantly — who may be spiking the punch bowl with potentially biased information.

And that’s why — if we’re truly talking about creating a better London — having those considering running in the next election express their intent now would be in our city’s best interests.

Much of our political knowledge is a matter of perspective. Information is filtered through various prisms — ones that may lean left and ones that may lean right. Other filters stand in opposition to the status quo — and it’s only fair that we understand where that information is coming from.

After the fact is too late and can be considered as deliberately misinforming the electorate. A comment or criticism levied by a concerned citizen and a comment or criticism levied by a concerned citizen who intends to run against the councillor in question is not the same thing. I know the grain of salt I use to accompany a Conservative’s criticism of a Liberal platform is far different than the grain I use in measuring a Liberal’s support of that same idea.

At the very least, the electorate should have the right to form their own opinion — and to expect a retroactive vetting of criticisms with “new” information is unfair.

Allowing party affiliations at the municipal level, as they do in Montreal and Vancouver, would help people understand where their votes are going. We can be altruistic and say they should find out for themselves, but in the interest of starting along the path to a better London here and now we need to be honest — municipal politics is a game of name recognition.

What I hate about the party system is that it undermines the ability of the elected representative to represent. Whips and policy influence votes far more than the constituents’ desires. Yet where the party system has a clear benefit is in providing the electorate with a fairly easy frame of reference upon which to inform their votes. Most Canadians, it’s safe to say, have a fairly solid understanding of where the Conservatives, Liberals, and NDP fall on issues like economics, social policy, and the environment.

Now if you had candidates running under various banners (should I copyright cheesy Vision London, Opportunity London, and Future London party names now or later?) with clearly outlined party platforms (on transit, urban sprawl, development, culture, etc.), then that gives voters yet another piece of information with which they can base their decision. And if people want to remain independent, they can do so.

Misinformation campaigns work because people are easily misinformed. The vast majority of citizens are interested in politics at the broad-stroke level, but tend to gloss over the minutiae.

And that exactly why the haphazard application of labels like Fontana Eight are so insidious — and potentially damaging. It applies a broad-stroke perspective to something that’s far more nuanced. For example, my Ward councillor, Sandy White, is frequently listed as part of the Fontana Eight. Yet the Fontana Eight label applies to her even when she votes against the so-called bloc — as is the case with the recent 1.5 per cent pay increase vote.

Come election time, what’s a more easily digestible sound bite? The Fontana Eight — and its negative connotations — will stick in the minds of the casual voters; the detailed examination of her voting record, which shows that she’s not always in the so-called ‘eight’, will get lost in the shuffle.

Some call it the Fontana Eight; I tend to think of it as a voting bloc. In any other level of government, it would be known as a party. We know they exist and have for various councils — after all, one person’s Chinese buffet is another person’s chicken wing.

Yes, the average citizen has a responsibility to inform themselves. But if the information providers themselves have a vested interest in the process, shouldn’t that be known up front? Doesn’t the average citizen have a right to that frame of reference when examining a position or statement?

It’s true, no politician or wannabe politician has a legal obligation to declare an affiliation. But I would argue that they have a moral one. And in an election as important as the one on Oct. 27, 2014 will be, being up front, honest, and open with the electorate is vital.

After all, if we’re serious about engaging the citizens of London, isn’t it fair that they at least have an idea of what type of party they’re going to be attending?

The band War may have asked “Why Can’t We Be Friends?” And while psychology and biology may have some answers, for our personal and societal growth, I’d rather take my inspiration from another group of musical philosophers: Paula Abdul and M.C. Skat Kat who once famously expounded all the wonderful reasons why “opposites attract.”

A pair of events this week prompted this line of thinking:

• My friend Dan Brown, asked this of his Facebook following: “Do you have friends with whom you passionately disagree on some issues? How do you see past those disagreements?”; and

• The fact that many of the responses to the passing of film critic Roger Ebert began statements to the effect of, “Although I [sometimes/often] disagreed with him, I always liked…”

The former engendered some interesting debate, ranging from acceptance to avoidance of people with fundamentally opposed views; the latter was more of a personal observation that we often seem surprised that we can like someone who disagrees with us.

The fact is, opposition to those opposed to us is ingrained in our very psyche. But, as humans, we have the ability to overcome our base psychological impulses and grow as a result of it.

Unfortunately in The Forest City, as in many other places, we find that it’s far more common for opposites to attack.

It is easier to associate and interact with those with whom we frequently agree. It’s confirmation bias at it’s finest. We are hardwired to resist cognitive dissonance, so we are prone to minimizing the differing opinions present in our lives not just because we disagree with them, but because they’re physically and emotionally unsettling.

And there are some schools of thought surrounding in-group favouritism (or bias, if you will), which is rooted in self-esteem. Essentially, by undermining those outside of your like-minded thinkers, you satisfy an internal need to boost your self-esteem.

While this may be psychologically satisfying, it’s also self-limiting and potentially dangerous. The in-group bias inflates the value of ideas created by the like-minded cabal, whilst undermining the potential contributions of those outside of that group. Worse, it undermines the group’s perception of the contributor and the idea for nothing more than the label that’s been assigned.

No right-thinking person would think it’s OK to undermine an idea because it came from someone of a different race, religion, sex, or sexual orientation. So why is it acceptable to undermine ideas — and undervalue the people who present them — simply because they’re left-wing, right-wing, or associated with the ‘wrong’ group of people?

Why do we have to predicate liking an idea or a persona based upon his or her ability to agree with us? Ideally understanding and appreciation should be the foundation of our mutual respect.

There are people with whom I hold fundamental philosophical differences, yet I quite like them. Conversely, there are quite a few people with whom I am almost completely aligned socially or politically, yet I find them anywhere from astronomically annoying to absolutely repugnant.

The difference? Tolerance.

It’s those people who have the greatest tolerance for other people’s beliefs that I find myself most attracted to. It’s those who are willing to engage in a respectful discussion whose ideas I value the most — simply because I know they’re willing to listen and accept the challenge of making their ideas better.

I’m not perfect. It’s easy to dismiss ideas and beliefs outright. We all have limits. For example, my tolerance isn’t absolute. I couldn’t entertain a discussion with someone who believes that pedophilia is OK.

It’s easy to shake your head and dismiss certain protesters’ beliefs because they’re “fundamentalists” or “crazy.” The challenge is trying to understand why people believe what they do when it’s so diametrically opposed to my own.

What I’ve found is that by trying to understand — and actively listening — to opposing views, I’m able to appreciate the foundation of their belief. Instead of attacking — or undermining — the person, I’m able to focus on the idea.

And, as a society, that’s the only way we’ll grow. Focusing only on the people we like and only valuing that one group’s ideas and opinions stunts our growth. To me, that’s the only thing that should ever be called crazy.

A creative solution to save a piece of our history; a small group of dedicated activists rallying the greater community to act — the survival of the African Methodist Episcopal Church is a feel-good story for the ages, right?

Yes and no.

A feel-good story it may be, but it’s one that masks years of neglect and apathy.

The African Methodist Episcopal Church is a historic treasure for this city — despite its non-descript looks today. Not only is it a fugitive slave chapel steeped in history as the area’s first Black church, for some it represents the birthplace of the liberation movement in the U.S. It was the location of abolitionist John Brown’s speech that sowed the seeds of the Harpers Ferry raid.

It’s also the community anchor of The Hollow — an area of London populated by the poor, and largely Black, community.

The church will be moved or rebuilt in a vacant lot of the Beth Emmanuel Church on Grey St. — the very church that was established in 1869 as Methodist’s replacement. As reported by The London Free Press, the relocated church may be used as a community outreach project or as a museum of sorts.

That’s the way it should be. Because heritage should be more than just a location, it should be a celebration.

According to the City of London Heritage Sites Inventory, there are close to 4,000 buildings with a heritage designation in our city. The London Heritage Council offers pages and pages of sites with historical plaques. How many, like the African Methodist Episcopal Church, have fallen into disrepair? How many are hidden under renovations and aluminum siding? How much of our history is waiting to be rediscovered?

And that brings up the biggest question of all — who is going to pay for it?

The African Methodist Episcopal Church was lucky. It captured a cultural Zeitgeist; it found — or was found by — passionate advocates who are willing to champion its cause; it was brought to the attention through a demolition application; and it found a feasible solution to its location.

But, realistically, how many other buildings are going to have this luck? Not every heritage building can be moved to a new location or shipped up to Fanshawe Pioneer Village; not every story is going to resonate with the community like this one. How many sites are sitting, quietly deteriorating — left to crumble and fade quietly from our memories?

And, the biggest question of all is who’s going to pay for them?

I think we can all agree that preserving our heritage is vital to the growth of the community. Remembering who we are helps to define who we’ll be. And, in the case of the African Methodist Episcopal Church, our involvement with the Underground Railroad is something that we should not only celebrate, but ensure our children and future generations know.

But sourcing the short and long-term funds that these type of buildings require is a greater challenge. It’s one thing to write a letter to the editor, compose a Tweet, or write a blog post. It’s another thing to regularly commit to providing the financial support these types of venues need to survive.

People are quick to demonize the developers, but it’s not their responsibility to purchase and maintain these buildings. They are just doing what the original building’s architects intended — building up and growing the city.

These are the competing priorities. The Church was scheduled for demolition by a business owner looking to expand his business’ physical space. How many of those chastising the business owner are the same who lament the lack of jobs in the city of London?

So how do we integrate our past effectively without undermining our efforts to grow for the future?

Lost in all the recent excitement about the African Methodist Episcopal Church is the fact that it’s always been there. This historic part of London was not discovered — it was lost. We knew of its existence but chose to overlook it.

And while it’s wonderful that we’ve re-embraced the African Methodist Episcopal Church as a vital part of London’s history, we need to learn from our mistakes and evaluate all of our cultural and heritage history. It will mean making some hard decisions and spend our money wisely, but to do any less is a disservice to the people who built the city of London.

The fact that the historic plaque installed in 1986 has been lost to the passage of time seems fitting, because it’s not enough to just designate and annotate our history — we must find a way to celebrate it.

To paraphrase the sage Uncle Ben, with great blogging comes great responsibility — and, for me, that responsibility is first and foremost to allow reader comments.

However, I believe there is a caveat: allowing reader comments does not equal allowing ALL reader comments.

I believe that if you’re going to publish a blog in a public forum — sharing your thoughts, opinions, and ideas with the world — then you have a moral obligation to allow readers to reply. To not do so, in my opinion, betrays a touch of arrogance combined with a heaping helping of missed opportunity.

I won’t lie. If I read a blog that does not allow comments, it tarnishes and undermines what’s written. I feel it shows that the author not only doesn’t care about the readers’ opinions, it suggests that he or she is also not interested in listening to outside perspectives in formulating those opinions.

It’s a matter of trust and respect. And I have a hard time doing either when one is so restrictive.

I’ve said it before and I continue to hold to it to this day: if I present an opinion or an idea, I want it to be scrutinized. I appreciate comments, suggestions, and new information. I don’t know everything and if my opinion is lacking for whatever reason, then I want to know where it fails.

We grow and learn not through absolute belief in our sense of right, but rather through embracing what we don’t know and working to improve that lack of knowledge. It’s akin to hyperpartisanship — listening to only one side or drinking only one flavour of Kool-Aid based on its colour means you’re missing out on different perspective and viewpoints.

I keep saying it because I keep believing it — no one side has the monopoly on right.

The danger of commenting without allowing comments is that it eliminates balance. I can publish whatever I want and I hope to engender a sense of trust amongst those who read me. But if I publish something that’s wrong — without allowing for questioning or fact-checking, then I’m doing my readers a disservice.

Unfortunately, a minority of commenters ruin the experience for the majority of good quality respondents. These people are often referred to as trolls, but I find that term’s too widely applied, especially on social networks. (Troll is often a label applied to people who don’t agree with your particular ideology.)

There does exist a sub-culture of negative commenters: those people who hijack every post for their singular focus, or flood the comments with personal attacks and puerile insults. We all can agree that there’s little to no value in that type of behaviour. And some bloggers and columnists are scared off by that sort of behaviour.

There is a solution: moderation. Most content management systems and publishing software will allow you to monitor comments and choose whether to publish them. A responsible blogger will be judicious in restricting that commentary. I believe in establishing ground rules for your blog up front and enforcing them throughout. I draw my line at libel and personal attacks. And I’m proud to say that I’ve allowed all but one comment on my blog, both positive and negative (the only one I restricted was one that was comprehensively libellous towards someone in the community that I was writing about).

Understand, just as the comments can be abused, so too can the moderation tools be abused by the blogger. It’s something you see in business, where negative comments are deleted, and the practice can spill over to the personal. Allowing only those comments that are positive or support your viewpoint is no better than not allowing them at all.

No system is perfect. But we shouldn’t let aspirations for perfect get in the way of doing better.

And if we blog because we want to affect change in our society — whether it’s large or small — we have an absolute obligation to engage in that two-way discussion of ideas.

We’ve always encouraged interaction with opinion makers. Since the dawn of newspapers, editorial boards, op-ed pieces, and comments have always been balanced by letters to the editor.

Earlier today I asked this question on social media and received a variety of different answers. Some felt there was no obligation, while others felt it was a breach of blogging etiquette to not allow comments. One person sagely replied that if you’re not going to allow comments, then essentially you’ve got an on-line diary — so why are you sharing it? An on-line journal is one thing, but when you choose to actively drive traffic to it, either through Facebook or Twitter, to me that crosses a line where allowing comments is a must.

There are no hard and fast rules, just opinions. To me, if you’re willing to stand up and state your position, you should be willing to allow that position to stand up to scrutiny.

You may disagree — and that’s fine. You can share your thoughts because, as always, my comments’ section is open.

Amidst the lament of shopkeeps in the downtown area and discussions of empty seats at early events, some are question what the World Figure Skating Championships mean to London, Ontario.

The simple answer? Potential. Hope. A future.

And, most importantly, opportunity — to both build upon the foundation set by successfully staging a global event and to learn from our mistakes.

Whether or not the World Figure Skating Championships return a dime to the city, it should be considered a successful investment in London’s future (and this is heady praise from someone who remains at odds with the Canada’s London tag line and most certainly is not a fan of figure skating as a sport.)

The World Figure Skating Championships are an investment that should pay off with dividends in the future. It’s been a steady progression: from the early, heady days (maybe two plastic surgeries ago) of Cher, to the euphoria of the Memorial Cup, to the announcement of Pearl Jam choosing the Budweiser Gardens as one of its two North American dates, the facility and the city have been slowly building to setting a precedent.

With the World’s under our belt, that precedent has been set and the question no longer needs to be asked.

We’ve proven that we’ve got the infrastructure and the wherewithal to host big-league events. Sure, the Memorial Cup is nice, but it’s regional. Could the city host a World Junior Hockey Championship? Why not? (Yes, you need a secondary facility, but I covered the Ottawa WJC and remember sitting with a crowd exclusively of friends and family for an Latvia/Finland contest — the Western Fair’s rink would suffice.)

We’ve also reminded our own citizens what civic pride means. Sure, the presence of multiple officers at every street corner was, well, gestapo-like, but Londoners marvelled at the cleanliness of the downtown to the point where there have been several calls to make the Clean Team a permanent addition to the city.

The main negative from the event came from the businesses in the downtown core who didn’t see the windfall that they expected from the presence of this international event. But maybe that’s less about the opportunity and more about certain establishments’ unrealistic expectations that money would fall into their laps.

Hopefully, restaurateurs and other small business owners will learn from their mistakes for the next event. Instead of complaining about how customers are staying away, businesses need to find ways to actively recruit both new and old patrons to their establishments. Offer attendees a discount or free appetizer.

Or, better yet, extend those offers to the citizens of London. Show how much you appreciate the customers — and potential customers — who can be your lifeblood for the other 51 weeks of the year when there isn’t a World Figure Skating Championships around. Why not celebrate Londoners and invite them to the spectacle with a special offer with proof of residence.

It’s not enough to expect people to stay; you need to convince them to stay. Attractions of this nature tend to exert a tremendous gravitational pull — attracting both tourists and locals alike to an environment that may be out of their daily routine.

Likely London won’t be a high-traffic tourist location in the future for those who attended this event (after all, how many Canadians are booking flights to Ufa after attending the World Juniors?). But how many Londoners visited our oft-maligned downtown for the first time in months or years? How do we learn from our mistakes and bring them back next time?

Because there will be a next time.

If anything, that will be the dividend from our investment in the World Figure Skating Championships. We’ve proven that we can host an event of this magnitude. Now we’ve got to learn how to take advantage of the opportunity provided by those events.

You’re almost there, Gary. Winnipeg’s back, Quebec City may be on its way, and the National Hockey League’s realignment of teams into (relatively sensible) geographic regions has earned the league much praise. But one cosmetic change could make this realignment a historic success.

And that’s by embracing the league’s history.

In 1992, in an attempt to simplify the game to appeal to emerging American markets, commissioner Gary Bettman drew upon his NBA roots and renamed the conferences by geographic designations. In 2013, the league should move back.

The NHL is moving back to a four-conference format: two in the west and two in the east. For the sake of clarity (and sanity), I’m going to refer to these four conferences as divisions, within two conferences.

Let’s start with the two conferences. East and West is so 90s (and so NBA). Back in the day, we had the Prince of Wales and (Clarence) Campbell conferences. The former was initially donated for the winner of the winner of the first game in Madison Square Garden; the latter to recognize the commissioner responsible for the league’s most vital expansion in the 1960s.

But now it’s time to move forward, embrace the opportunity, and seize a wonderful opportunity to tie today’s game to even more of the historical greats who have continued to shape it. So let’s name the conferences after two people who truly revolutionized the game: Wayne Gretzky and Bobby Orr.

The Western conference is a perfect fit for the Gretzky handle. Beyond playing the majority of his career in the west, one can make an easy argument that Canada’s Great One is the reason why hockey exists not only in Los Angeles, but in markets like San Jose, Anaheim, Phoenix, and even Dallas. The 1988 trade that ripped out Canada’s soul served to jump start the heartbeat of the game in non-traditional American markets.

Bobby Orr changed the way defense was played. Plain and simple. While other blueliners, such as Doug Harvey, were innovators in creating an offensive game from the defensive position, it was Orr who became — and remains — the gold standard of the position.

While an argument can be made to reinstate the old Adams, Norris, Patrick, and Smythe division nomenclature, I’d propose handing out trophies to the regular season divisional (I’m still not calling them conferences…) leaders, bearing those builders’ names.

Not only are the players named in these proposed divisions elite, but they’re also iconic representatives of key demographics of the hockey community.

The Howe Division: Gordie is Mr. Hockey (trust me, he’s trademarked it). Often considered in the discussion as the greatest player ever, Howe holds several NHL records, including longevity-based ones, and he’s still amongst the league’s scoring leaders.

The Baker Division: Hobie Baker was arguably hockey’s first American star and he was a part of the league’s inaugural Hall of Fame class. Baker perished in a First World War airplane accident and is currently commemorated by collegiate hockey’s highest individual honour.

The Beliveau Division: Beyond the obvious impact that the province of Quebec has had on hockey’s history, Jean Beliveau represents the elegance, grace, and class of hockey and leadership at its finest. With Maurice Richard already commemorated with the league’s leading goal-scorer’s trophy.

The Tretiak Division: Finally, the fourth division should be named after Vladislav Tretiak. While Anatoly Tarasov was the father of Russian hockey, it was Tretiak who revolutionized the game — and the goaltending position — was played, including developing an early version of the butterfly style. Although he never played in the NHL himself, his involvement in the USSR hockey program at the height of the Canada/Russia rivalry helped bridged cultural gaps and paved the way for the arrival of Europeans in the NHL en masse.

In addition to the initial divisional namesakes, one could argue that players like the Stastny brothers, who were the highest-profile defectors back in the day; Willie O’Ree, who broke hockey’s colour barrier; and Jacques Plante, who was a technological innovator between the pipes, could take the place of any of the four I’ve chosen.

That’s the point.

One of the greatest things about hockey is its history. It’s something that ties us not only to fans around the world, but also to our parents, grandparents, and great grandparents. The arguments we make for Sidney Crosby today are echoes of those made for Joe Malone a century ago. The debate alone is worth consideration.

But the moment a child scans the NHL’s standings and asks his or her parents, “Who’s Beliveau?” then we’ve brought our great game’s history to life.

And that would be a historic success.

He said it to us in confidence — a half-whispered commiseration designed to contextualize our sadness. “If we knew how this day would feel,” he said. “Nobody would ever have a pet.”

These words were uttered by our vet as we found ourselves in tears awaiting the end of our cat Chloe’s suffering. It was a gentle sentiment, but one that’s not exactly correct.

It’s a half truth, and I’ll get to the other half by sharing our story.

After 14 years of friendship, companionship, and love, we came to the agonizing decision to euthanize our cat, Chloe. For the last few months, she was suffering from kidney issues, the occasional seizure, a limp caused by a loose paw, an inability to groom, and dramatic weight loss. Her world was restricted to the family room and a hallway, where we had moved her litter.

Yet, despite her difficulty, she was still Chloe. The eyes still reflected her intelligence and caring; her voice still interacted with us, replying to our conversation — frequent as it was, because we never treated Chloe as a cat.

In fact, she was more human than some humans I know.

But, eventually, we realized that we were only prolonging her suffering for our selfish needs. I could justify it by saying, “She’s not in pain…” but she didn’t have that quality of life she deserved. She was still Chloe, but we were keeping her alive not because she was getting better, but because we weren’t ready to say goodbye.

We finally mustered up the strength to end her suffering. And for a week, we understood the concept in abstract. My daughter, who has never known a day without Chloe in her life, spent as much time as possible with her — although she always did. And we kept going knowing that Tuesday was on the calendar.

I’m not ashamed to admit that, for a few minutes at the vet, I couldn’t speak. I wasn’t crying — it was more like my heart and soul was leaking out of my body. There were no sobs or wails, but rather a steady stream from my eyes, a tightening of my chest, and a constriction of the throat.

We spent the last few minutes of her life with her. Petting her, kissing her, and comforting her. She had trusted us with every moment of her life since the day we picked her up, as a four-month-old kitten, at the SPCA in Montreal to Tuesday night.

I cried more before the needle; my wife cried more after. We were both comforted by how quickly her suffering ended once the needle was administered, and we both lingered with her now-lifeless body. Not ready to take our final leave; not ready to face life without her.

Because that’s the half of the story our vet forgot. The moments and joy that you have with your pet. The simple pleasures that you take for granted when they’re alive, but so acutely miss once they’re gone.

There’s an emptiness in the home without her presence. I still expect her to yell at me as I come down the stairs; I still expect to see her curled up under her favourite chair; I still find myself preparing to say, “Chloe, where are you?” before I remember.

There are still tears; my eyes are watering as I type this. But it’s getting better.

Over the years, we’ve heard people say, “Oh, it’s just a cat” or “I don’t know why people go crazy for their dogs… they’re just dumb animals.” And we know, right then and there, they’ve never had a pet.

Forevermore, she’ll be in our heart and will be remembered fondly. We remember all the good times — and not so good times. But what we’ll remember most was how she was a part of our family. It’s not about a specific memory or a personality trait (although we’ll always remember those); it’s more of a feeling and completeness. They’re not ‘just’ animals. And the word pet, for many of us, isn’t enough.

And that’s the other half that completes the vet’s truth. It’s true, knowing how you feel the moment you have to euthanize your cat would discourage anyone from pet ownership. Because if you knew, up front, the joy, happiness, and family completion that a pet can bring to you, every house would have one.

So, knowing what I know of the pain we’ve felt since Tuesday, would I do it again? Without a doubt. While there will never be another Chloe, we’re grateful for every day she spent with us.

And that’s the whole truth.

Name-calling, questioning people’s intellectual capabilities, mocking, snide supercilious comments, mean-spirited personal attacks? It’s somewhat sad that the very behaviour that we discourage amongst our children has become the culture of choice for on-line discourse in London, ON.

I learned very early on that you don’t have to like someone and you don’t have to agree with them. But you have to be respectful of everyone and their perspective. And, most importantly, you have to value their efforts and ideas.

Sadly, it’s a lesson lost on many of those who purport to work for a better London, Ontario.

The hypocrisy is staggering when one considers that the people who are quickest to criticize bullying, demand understanding for people with physical and/or mental challenges, or lament the lack of opinion and involvement in our community, are often at the front lines of the on-line mocking, insulting behaviour, creating an exclusionary environment, and — sadly — perpetuating a form of on-line bullying.

And let’s not get into the larger legal matters of libellous and slanderous commentary.

Of course, perish the thought that you suggest there’s a better way to discuss. You open yourself up to insinuations that you’re living in a patchouli-infused, Kumbaya-singing, Pollyana existence. Well, break out the slings and arrows of outrageous criticism, because if I’m going to be accused of tamtamming my way through life, then I’ll do so banging the drum for a better form of public discourse — and hopefully others will join in the rhythm.

Satire is an art form, but too many choose to engaged in its paint-by-numbers version. On-line, from name-calling of local councillors to mocking intelligence, London is rife with the toilet version of the humour perfected by Rick Mercer, Jon Stewart, and Stephen Colbert*.

We don’t need to be an acquiescent society. We don’t need to stop questioning actions, motives, and decisions. Being respectful doesn’t mean swallowing whole everything that we’re fed by our government. But there’s a way to question that elevates discourse and fosters an environment where all ideas are encouraged, examined, and appreciated.

Attack the idea; not the person.

It’s a simple concept. And it’s increasingly rare to see. Our partisan nature of our political system has put that form respectful analysis firmly on the endangered list. The idea itself is secondary (or even tertiary) to from whom it came (and, sadly, often from where that person lives).

I’m not perfect in any way shape or form. I can be a snarky, well… asshole, in one-on-one conversation. I’ve made jokes, comments, and poked fun with friends in discussions. But when I put my thoughts to paper (or on-line), I’m damn certain to afford everyone — and every idea — the respect it deserves. And I’m always willing to support my idea (or debate someone else’s) on its merit alone.

In every comment I’ve made on this blog (and, to the best of my knowledge, on Twitter and Facebook as well), I’ve attempted to live by what I learned early on as a young journalist: Criticize the idea; not the person. And don’t merely say something’s wrong, offer suggestions to improve.

On-line, that moment a personal attack becomes a pillar of your argument is the moment I stop listening.

Maybe I’m being unfair, but I really don’t care. I’ve advocated about the need, if you’re going to engage in on-line discussions, to follow people from all sides of the political spectrum and not just those who fall in line with your thinking. But I’ve recently added a caveat to that — I now only follow and engage in discussions with those that I know will interact respectfully.

And that’s a personal thing. I can only speak to my one-on-one interactions. But if you’re going to devolve into personal attacks when interacting with me, I believe you’ve forfeited your expectation that I’ll respect your opinion. More importantly, I think you undermine all of your opinions because now I question your motivation

Since I’ve unfollowed a few of the worst offenders, the quality of my on-line experience has been vastly improved. The diversity of commentary is still there, but the ideas are allowed to come shining through as they’re no longer drowned out by puerile nattering.

Do I agree with everyone on council? No? Do I think everything they do is right? No. But I’m damn certain that they deserve my respect for trying to make a difference? Today, Dale Henderson has been pilloried for his YouTube channel. He’s been mocked for anything ranging from a perceived lack of intelligence to accusations of downright craziness.

Yet those are personal attacks? What about the idea? All of those who lament the fact that council is not “engaged” (however they choose to set their personal engagement bar, of course) are missing the point that this is a great, cost-effective way to share messages with one’s constituency. Perhaps if it was from one of the on-line community’s favoured sons or daughters, the idea would be met with more respect.

Conversely, Paul Hubert’s much-ballyhooed survey has been lauded for its engagement. Yet I have very real concerns with extrapolating anything from it. Where is the statistical significance? Was the execution of the survey not done in a way that easily allowed interest groups or specific demographics to undermine the results?

To me, that survey has as much value to the process as a London Free Press on-line poll. Little whatsoever. It’s one tool in what should be a much-larger toolbelt.

But despite what I feel about the survey’s execution, I applaud Mr. Hubert and Mr. Henderson for their efforts. The ideas have merit — and how I feel about one or both shouldn’t matter.

Sadly, if I took a poll of the on-line community, I’d likely be in the minority in that.

In the end, I govern my on-line interaction in the same way that I teach my 11-year-old daughter to navigate the playground: be respectful of other people; don’t use personal insults or name-calling; and value everyone’s perspective and background.

We tell our daughter that we all have personal situations that we deal with (something she knows quite well with two parents who suffer from chronic pain), but that doesn’t give someone the excuse to swear at you, yell at you, or call you names. Sadly, that type of rationalization and justification runs rampant on-line.

Most importantly, we tell her that if someone can’t play by those rules, then they’re proving that they’re not worth her time. Walk away and then the burden falls to them to earn back the opportunity and respect that they’ve squandered.

In December 2012, I made my promise to the city; this is my apology to the city. I apologize for the wasted opportunity and the wasted effort. Londoners have a lot of differing opinions, ideas, and skill-sets that we could use to come up with solutions that benefit us all. Yet until people are willing get out of the sandbox, and treat both people and ideas with respect, this city will remain in a state of perpetual pre-pubescence.

It’s time to grow up.

(*ed. note: there seems to be some confusion to this statement. I’m not decrying Mercer, Stewart, and Colbert as toilet humour; instead I’m drawing a parallel to the difference between the mastery of those comedians’ work and the bastardized version we experience on-line. Both are political commentary, but one version is well done; the other is a puerile bastardization)