Rural
Newfoundland, now, more an idea than a place, readies itself. Though baymen are scarcer than cod fish, hundreds
of communities wait to be emptied. There
must be a few residents left, capable of raising a mortgage, that resettlement,
the moratorium, Fort McMurray or the Avalon Peninsula has, so far, failed to
dislodge. All of them will be needed to
populate the already iconic enclave; though, it is still barely a concept even
among the somnolent planners at City Hall.
The City of
St. John’s has already discarded its zoning manuals as a compliant, though
otherwise uninspired Mayor,
and unanimous Council move, with deliberate
haste, toward an approval process that, prior to ‘Dannymania’, always moved at
something less than a glacial pace.
Over the
decades, the City has missed several opportunities to grow; though Mount Pearl
and other towns have done little to distinguish themselves. The seat of Government, once a suckling on an abundant
fishery and now offshore oil, has been kind to St. John’s; its
perceived greatness thrust upon it. Like
the expectant and the spoiled, it does not govern with the confidence of past
achievements. Its chief regard is for its
entitlements so long embraced they just seem normal.
