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It’s not boasting if it’s true

Thanksgiving should remind us to be thankful for where we live
B.C. provincial border sign. (Vera de Kok/Wikimedia Commons)

Familiarity breeds contempt.

Whether it is personal relationships, our surroundings or our entertainment choices, the old proverb can certainly be applicable.

But in most cases, maybe contempt is too strong a word. Familiarity breeds complacency is perhaps a better fit.

This time of year is often a time of reflection. The Thanksgiving holiday, by its very nature, asks us to think about what we are grateful for.

It is a time for family, so perhaps the breather from work and a sit-down feast of turkey and all the fixings, or whatever the tradition might be, allowed us to reconnect with our loved ones and why we are thankful for them.

Or perhaps it just amplified the contempt.

One thing we should all be grateful for, though, is the place where we live.

For many outsiders, Northwest B.C. has a mythical, almost mystical allure about it.

If you come from somewhere else, you no doubt remember the childlike awe the first time you saw the majestic mountains jutting up into the sky, the magical Skeena winding its way to the coast, the tingle you felt when you entered the rainforest with the mist hanging in the trees.

With time, though, it all becomes kind of… meh.

On the coast, we maybe think there’s too much rain. In the Bulkley Valley/Lakes District, it’s perhaps too hot or too cold. In Terrace, maybe too much of the worst of both those worlds.

The wildlife is a nuisance. The roads suck. The services are inequitable. Too many bugs.

It is easy to find things to complain about, but this is an incredible place to live.

At border crossings into B.C., the welcome signs boast “British Columbia Canada: The Best Place on Earth.”

It’s not boasting if it’s true.

If it is not the best place, it is certainly in contention.

We should all be thankful for that.