It takes a lot of nerve to become one of those people who just walk down the street singing at the top of their lungs like it’s no big deal. I know, because I recently joined their ranks.
My entrance into the world of street singing was an incremental affair, taking place during a stroll to the grocery store one recent Saturday afternoon. I was, quite literally, moved by the spirit of Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon” piping through my headphones and before I knew it, my half-hearted hum grew to into a tentative trill and then I was plain old singing, meeting the stares of oncoming strangers with a broad smile.
People do this, you know. Sing on the street. At least in my East Van enclave, I encounter a self-styled chanteuse at least a couple times a month. It’s one of my favourite things about this city, one of the things that drew me back.
You see, I originally migrated west from Alberta more than a decade ago, but it was never supposed to be a permanent move. Vancouver was exotic enough to appeal to a not-quite-20-year-old who fancied a more urban environment than Edmonton, but back then, I thought of Vancouver as an interim stop on the way to bigger and better things.
I’d always been an ambitious person who longed for a fast-paced life and a glamorous career. And Vancouver, as anyone from east of the Rockies will tell you, is not the place you land if the traditional trappings of success are a life goal.
Our reputation is well known. We’re a city of slackers and hippies, of pot enthusiasts and ski bums, of starving artists who would rather pay exorbitant rent for a shoebox with a sunset view than acquire home equity and sock away savings in an RRSP.
In short, Vancouver is a city of people living in perpetual adolescence.
So as I entered my 30s, still here and happy with my cycle-commuting, beach-going, yoga-posing lifestyle, I started to develop a nagging insecurity. What did it say about me that I hadn’t left for more mature pastures?
When an opportunity came to follow my career ambitions to the most grown-up place in all the land, I jumped. I spent half a year reporting from Parliament Hill in Ottawa and another six months based in oil-rich Calgary while I produced a national series on Canada’s labour market. Here was my chance to prove myself capable of not just existing, but competing, in the adult world.
There’s nothing like distance to help you put things in perspective.
Sure, there are steadier paycheques, cheaper mortgages and bigger houses to be had elsewhere in the country — but Vancouver is by no means alone in harbouring a growing population of people unable, or unwilling, to aim for those traditional markers of success. This is particularly true for younger adults.
Study after study has shown my generation — millennials — will be the first in history to be less prosperous than our parents. We face higher costs for housing, education and childcare than our parents did at our age, we have fewer options for well-paying jobs and stand to benefit substantially less from social safety nets like Old Age Security and the Canada Pension Plan.
I saw this borne out across the country, regardless of geographic location, as I studied the plight of younger workers struggling to find a foothold in a shifting professional landscape and crumbling under intense pressure in a culture that prizes material wealth and prestigious careers. The game for many of us under 40, I realized, is rigged.
Coming back, I gained a new appreciation for my city — this city. The survival skills we develop living in one of the world’s priciest places, the values we adopt knowing from the outset that home ownership and retirement may never be a reality, have, I think, put us ahead of the game.
In future columns, I’ll be recounting the trials and triumphs of making it as a millennial in Vancouver because I think my generation deserves some credit.
Far from unambitious, we manage feats of determination in paying the rent, clambering onto the property ladder and starting families despite all the odds.
We have the gumption to choose a life where beauty, community and nature rank as high — or higher — on the priority list than financial wealth. And given the reality for millennials across the country, I’d say it’s a life skill to learn to derive more pleasure from a glimpse of the mountains on a clear day than from a brand new house or car. Because although life here might not look like we thought it would, it’s still so sweet sometimes that you just can’t help but sing.
jessica.barrett@gmail.com
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