Cape Breton Fudge Company

This summer I had a couple of free hours in Sydney, Nova Scotia. A quick google search of “things to see nearby” turned up the Cape Breton Fudge Company. Never one to turn down sweets, I headed down the street. I have to admit I was slightly concerned when I came across this building:

It did not appear promising for souvenir shopping. I turned a corner and it felt like a dream sequence in a sitcom; there was practically music:

Such a cute little store. 🙂

 

I was completely overwhelmed by the myriad of choices and ended up bringing home an assortment for my nieces and nephews:

 

It came packaged in a sweet little box:

With some added sweets thrown in:

 

Saltwater Taffy is always a hit in our office.

 

As for taste, I didn’t actually get any. But by the reports I got back, it disappeared quickly. Definitely worth a visit if you’re in the area.

Stay the Course on Owner Operator

Back in July I had the privilege of attending a political announcement for my job.  Political speeches are nothing new, and often don’t say anything new. This one was different.  In it, the Minister of Fisheries and Oceans Dominic LeBlanc announced the government’s intent to enshrine the owner operator policy into the Fisheries Act. For fishermen, it means that the license holder owns and operates the boat; he (or she) is independent and not following the direction or control of someone else. For coastal communities in rural Canada, it means that the beneficial interest from the fishery flows from fishermen to the communities they live in. It’s something inshore fishermen have been fighting to maintain for decades, but particularly for the last five years when a Department of Fisheries and Oceans policy paper on “Modernizing the Fishery” omitted any mention of the owner operator policy. The fight has been long and the stakes are high. For many communities (like mine) fishery after fishery has become corporatized and those fishing boats, jobs, and money have left our island. Watching the corporate creep into the lobster fishery is like living the fishing version of Groundhog Day.

 

That’s why that July afternoon when the announcement was made, I freely admitted I got a little teary eyed. When I looked around the room full of burly fishermen and jaded industry reps, I wasn’t the only one. It was kind of a big deal, and we all knew it was. For that moment in time, there was a ray of hope against a backdrop of bureaucratic molasses climbing up a hill.

 

There’s been fear mongering from the other side about decreased license values and government taking licenses. It’s meant to distract and divert attention by people who have the most to gain from losing the owner operator policy. It’s a political tactic we’ve seen play out far too often on far bigger stages. I think fishermen are smarter than that. I think they’ve watched fleets and opportunities disappear from their wharves and they don’t want to lose any more. I think communities understand that if they want to maintain the way of life that they’ve had for generations, they need to make sure there is an opportunity for young people to enter the fishery as independent business owners, not as a paid per hour labourer for a corporate interest.

 

I think this because as the industry reps left the announcement in July and went home, we started having a similar experience. We were approached repeatedly in groceries stores, at the dentist, in the bank, at the wharf by different people with the same questions:

 

“Do you think they’re really going to fix owner operator?”

Do you think I’ll really be able to have my own boat and licence?”

 

That ray of hope I thought I’d glimpsed in other red rimmed eyes in Chester has spread. It’s an important fight; an important discussion. Too important to be distracted. Too important to lose.

 

Stay the course.