Growing up on the Eastern Shore during the 1940s and 1950s we came to Halifax twice a year – to shop and go to the dentist. It was a long trip, highway 7 was unpaved in the 40s and we stopped for lunch at Lake Charlotte. The dentist was in Dartmouth and, after that unpleasant stop, we took the ferry to Halifax – no bridges then.

At the time the ferry wharf was abutted by fishing wharves on each side and the waterfront was a fishy, bustling place . We did not linger there long. Instead we headed straight up the hill to Barrington Street and the stores filled with wonderful things. Mostly we window shopped but a few purchases were made -usually at Birks (how we loved those blue boxes) and Simpsons. One of our bi-yearly trips was planned for December when Simpsons had animated displays in all their windows on Barrington. We always rode the cable car along the street, waiting whenever one of the connections to the wires overhead fell off while the driver got out and reconnected it.

Shopping on Barrington Street was an experience we remembered for months after. My brother and I would reminisce about the day and the things we saw and imagine what it would be like to live in Halifax and experience the street every day.

Eventually we did move to Halifax but by then Barrington Street was experiencing it’s first decline – Simpsons moved out near the Rotary – a long way from our North End home in those days – and, for us, Gottington became the main shopping street…but that is another story.

But time, and sadly ambivalence, can break even the strongest of hearts. The question now: is it broken for good? Retreated into the darkness, cold from the neglect and pollution? Lonely, in spite of all those who travel your spine each day? You do not deserve this. You have stood tall, with grace, and welcomed me. Welcomed the world.

You may be feeling cold and abandoned. I can feel it too. Your heart may be broken and sad. Still, it beats. I can hear it. Despite this city’s constant desire to destroy you with neglect, you are alive.

You are the downtown street. You’re the one. You need stuff on you and I miss what we had. You need more people waling and enjoying the day, not fewer. You have nice sidewalks and brick and the buildings look good, too.

That was a time when trolleys chundered from bottom to top, along the shop fronts and busy department stores that lined your route. Each morning the people hurried in your direction for work, to do their shopping or to have a bite to eat at noon.

And in the evening, they rushed back to your trolleys to get home supper.

You stood proud and commanded respect with your scalloped window sills and ledges delicately carved, their features glinting in the low winter sun.

You were the centre of this city, Barrington, its very heartbeat. Everyone knew you and wanted to be seen with you.

Those were the glory days, the ones some can still talk about.

But the years were not kind to you, Barrington, nor were your keepers. When you reached a certain age and the cracks began to show, they turned their backs on you. They tossed you aside, ignoring your good bones and fine pedigree.

Spring Garden was the new gal, and then Bayer’s Lake. Bayer’s Lake! Imagine!

Your looks have now faded, your shops left fallow. The glory days are stored on the archival record and in the minds of those old enough to recall.

But the keen eye – the one with vision – can still look up and see those good bones and that fine pedigree, and know that you were the true Grand Dame of this city, a Dame Spring Garden could only wish to be, and a Dame Bayer’s Lake could never hope to be.