A.A. currently works for one of the universities in Edmonton and part of her position requires that she helps reinforce bonds with the institution and alumni, especially those former students who are generous patrons. This also means that she spends considerable time crafting letters, a vocational preoccupation which dovetails neatly with her interests and training in the Liberal Arts. The vignettes enriching this e-space confirm that A.A. grew up and continues to live in Edmonton where she also attended Harry Ainlay High School and the University of Alberta. She still maintains a vibrant passion for History and Literature following her graduation with an Arts degree. Her genuine interest in the Humanities is unquestionably influenced by family matters and her Filipino heritage, as she further documents below.

A.A. began her travels with Gordian YEG-GA in 2016, and the carving itself also has a unique history. As seen with similar YEG-GA carvings sculpted for Project Y150 YEG-GA, the Brazilian stone for this carving was obtained from the enterprising rock merchant Asad (now retired) on 118 Avenue, Edmonton. Additional pieces derived from that larger stone were commissioned for a Chinese government delegation to Canada associated with the visit of the artist Fan Zeng, further confirming Gordian YEG-GA’s patriotic credentials. Shortly after its dedication to the individual agency, accomplishments and contributions of grandmothers, mothers, daughters and sisters of Filipina descent, past, present and future, Gordian YEG-GA had an unfortunate encounter with A.A.'s cat and took a nasty tumble. The second image found here documents that the resulting "feline flip" left the sculpture with a nasty "scar" or "chip". The School of One Carver will always provide "makeovers" for soapstone carvings, but also cautions their travel companions to recognize that the "wear and tear" of rocks are a natural part of their history, inasmuch humans tend to wrinkle with age, and yet still perservere. The third image found in this brief, opening slide show documents an important part of the transformation of Gordian YEG-GA following its sculptural renovation in March, 2017.

My grandmother on my mother’s side was known for her smile, laugh and love of hockey. She was glue that kept everyone together and lived with my our tight-knit nuclear family for three years until she passed away. She was very smart and had the best handwriting I have ever seen, even though she had Parkinson's disease. She exercised every morning and was up before the Sun. She cooked and cleaned even though we told her not to and she would watch all of the Oiler’s games no matter how late they went on during the evening. Sometimes she would even nod off a bit, almost falling out of her chair, but still refused to go to bed until the game was over. And win or lose she was a diehard fan. She also loved donair pizza. My grandma and I were close and I was able to learn most of my Tagalog from her. My brothers can't speak our language as well so they had more trouble connecting with her, and, nevertheless, we all miss her very much. My grandma passed away Summer, 2015.

Now, my father’s mother lives with my parents. She is kind and spunky, a beauty queen when she was younger until she suffered from a stroke at a young age in the Philippines. She never forgets to comment on a man’s good looks and is quick to tell you exactly what's on her mind. However, as time passes, her Alzheimer’s is getting worse and she tends to forget and misplaces things. It has become hard for her to walk, so she usually stays in bed most of the day. Everyday, I remind her to take her medications, a cocktail of multicoloured pills of different sizes. I can see that it's hard on my parents to see my grandmother slowly losing her memory. With greater frequency she wonders who my mother may be, if we are her grandchildren, and the day of the week. However, the good days still outnumber the bad ones, but only by a very small margin.

I am so thankful to have met the women I was named after. I try my best to make them proud and hope my name upholds their own. I am also so pleased that my family had chosen to keep them close, instead of sending them away to be cared by others.

After an eventful weekend it is often hard to get back to your weekday routine. After a 65th birthday celebration with all your immediate family in attendance you feel tired and wish there was at least one more day of rest. On top of that you've lost an hour because of day light savings time.

Despite my sleepiness, this time with family has given me time to reflect upon my female ancestors. In an age where our beloved grandparents are often sent to live amongst the other elderly people in senior’s homes, my family remains firmly routed in traditional beliefs. In our traditions, parents live with their children when they are no longer able to live alone.

I never met my grandfather (on fathers side) but he was a police officer in the Philippines and was shot and killed on duty. My mother’s father died of lung cancer in 2001. So my closest connections were made between my grandmothers and me. It seems fitting since I was named after both of them.

Graduating from university was exciting and terrifying at the same time. As many graduates are aware, you are thrust into the world, and "your time is up". Looking back on my graduation, I remember how I was bright-eyed and ready to reach for my dreams. I was fortunate enough to get a job in my field and I’ve enjoyed my time expanding my knowledge and learning with my peers. After meeting with one of my most valued mentor, professor and friend, I looked back and revisited the value of my undergraduate degree. We discussed my current situation and how the stress I am under right now has caused me to wonder about what the future holds. The job that I have right now is a one-year contract position, and the year is almost over. I have applied for a fellowship that would extend my contract and I really hope that I am accepted as one of the candidates. The application process was long and challenging, similar to applying for a grant. Throughout the application I found myself constantly revising my work and began to doubt myself, not to mention my Liberal Arts eduction.

The application also caused me to think about the most significant challenges facing Canadian educational institutions today. As a recent graduate, this larger question also made me think about the amount of student debt I had accumulated. All of my debt and the possibility of being unemployed has caused me to panic. As I sit and ponder these things with Gordian YEG-GA by my side I hope that in the future higher education is more affordable. In today’s economy, post-secondary education is vital for just about any future career opportunities. I think that it is also important to note that while our post-secondary education system already includes co-op programs for students, these opportunities need to be expanded upon, especially since many university graduates have little to no work experience. In our troubled economic times, people continue to be laid-off, and it is harder and harder for new graduates to compete against the people "in transition" with more experience and knowledge of their field.

I have fond memories of the green steel, chunky bridge. The “Buzz” bridge, as I used to call it, was always a delight to cross when I was growing up. It was the only bridge in the City that made a buzz sound as our family car crossed over it to the Northern part of the City. I loved to imitate the strange sound it made and buzz along every time we travelled over the structure and I will always remember the old bridge as a highlight of our trip across the river. Today, even though I no longer “buzz along” when I cross it, the bridge still remains an important memory of childhood bliss.

While the old bridge is a comfort for me, it invokes a different feeling for my dad. My dad is a motorcyclist with a big “1000cc” bike. For him the bridge is associated with caution, and, according to my father, crossing the bridge is difficult on his bike. The steel grating makes it difficult for his bike to gain traction, and one wrong move could cause him to lose control. Thus, from his perspective the new “Arched Giant” will be a welcome addition to his afternoon tours around the city.

My partner S.A. worked on the new bridge as an ironworker. As he recounts, tons and tons of steel has been bent and tied to create the bridge deck. Each extention of the deck required the deck to also be supported with the arches, a slow moving and complicated process. The deck was worked on from both sides and would meet in the middle; however, with Winter approaching the building of the bridge has been delayed, yet again. S.A. found working on the new bridge rather unorganized. There have been reports in the media that the quality of the construction management process has been a factor in persistent delays, thus supporting S.A.'s observations. Problems aside, from my perspective the new bridge is a necessary addition to our growing metropolis, and with just about any change to the urban landscape, it instills both positive and negative emotions in all Edmontonions. With Winter on its way, Gordian YEG-GA will continue to act as an anchor between the past and the future—sitting between the “Buzz” Bridge and the city’s new Arched Giant.

12:50AM

It’s official. I’m lost. I can’t figure out how to change the headlight settings, and as a result I can only see two-to-three metres directly in front of me. Perfect, not to mention the Henday Freeway surrounding Edmonton is still under construction in this "final stretch". There are covered and contradictory signs and lanes closed everywhere. Everything looks the same in this long, empty stretch of road. I know that I should have been there by now, the trusted G.P.S. isn’t so trusty after all. It keeps telling me to “make a legal U-Turn” where I can’t, unless of course the car suddenly transformed itself into an off road vehicle. While I am certainly tempted to make a spectacular, undoubtedly illegal u-turn, I know the skirt of the car is too close to the ground to even go from asphalt to gravel and remain unscathed.

1:10AM

As I try to remain calm I see a truck ahead. There’s a construction worker inside. He sees the apparent panic in my eyes and flashes his lights. I decide to take the chance and pull to the side to ask him for directions. The danger of a solitary female pulling over at this time of night in the middle of nowhere to speak to a complete stranger does occur to me, and I decide that I will not get out of the car. And, given the mechanical properties of this vehicle, I will still be capable of making a speedy get away. Lucky for me the construction worker is on his way to "the Fort" and charts the way out of this tangled mess that is "the Henday under construction" with some "sure-fire" directions to my destination.

As an homage to the land of ice and snow, golden fields, towering mountains and crystal lakes, we celebrate with fireworks, drinks and “O Canada” -- sung whole-heartedly, and, at times, off-key. Canada Day has always been a special day for me. My family immigrated here in 1991 from the Philippines. My parents have always been so proud to call Canada home. In the Philippines, or "back home" as they like to say, life was hard. The gap between rich and poor was wide and grew wider everyday. Simple things that we take for granted -- such as Starbucks coffee -- are far too expensive for many people. For my parents, moving to Canada represented a chance to give their children opportunities that they fought so hard to have back home.

My mom once told me a story. It started something like this: Your grandfather ran a small store all his life. I used to sell ice-candy—freezies. All of my sisters, brothers and I did our parts to help "to keep shop". Your grandfather worked so hard to put a roof over our heads. We didn’t have much but he kept on stressing that if he could give us anything it would be the chance to go to school, or, as he stated, “Education is the one thing that no one can ever take away from you, it is the most valuable gift I can ever give.”

It would take years for me to fully appreciate what the story meant to my parents and even longer for me to understand what it really meant to me. Above all, my parents moved to Canada to give us the opportunity for a good education. Only now, after completing my undergraduate degree can I really appreciate all their hard work. I am lucky to have such strong-willed and loving parents and family. Canada Day is always a reminder of our family history and I will always be proud to call Canada home.

There is, however, another darker part to this story. My parents are immigrants so it hasn’t always been easy for them. While they are fully fluent in English, they still have a slight accent. I admit that I cannot hear my mom’s (although my friends say that she has one), but my dad’s is apparent, even to me. Because of this, they haven’t always felt like they were treated equal or fairly. Even through my two brothers and I were born here, I have, occasionally, also felt the same feeling of unwelcomness.

I must have been seven or eight years old when I first realized I was seen differently in select quarters of Edmonton society. I have always seen myself as a Canadian: I was born here, English is my first language, I can skate, I loved poutine, and I enjoy watching our national sport -- supporting my team win or lose. All the "boxes" that need to be checked always were checked so why wouldn’t I be considered Canadian? I remember it was Spring one year and my brothers and I were biking around the street in front of our house. We circled the block as fast as we could, chasing each other and enjoying the care-free days of spring break. I guess we weren’t really paying attention to what we were doing and my path crossed by a young White youth -- cutting him off from his route home. Although I apologized, he retorted “Go back home to China, you don’t belong here!” These words I will never forget. They stung and I was so startled that had nothing to say in return.

I know now that those words and the incident played a role in the way I understood my identity. I realized then that I don’t “look” Canadian to some people in this country. I don’t have fair skin, my hair is black, my skin is olive brown, and my eyes are too small. But I know that my appearance does not define how I feel, and will always feel, inside. I grew up here, this is where I learned to ride a bike, this is where I built a snow fort with my neighbors, this is where my family lives, and this is where I’ve cried the most, laughed even more, and learned about the world. My parents may be from the Philippines and I recognize and cherish those roots, but I am definitely Canadian. This is my home.