The Reminder is making its archives back to 2003 available on our website. Please note that, due to technical limitations, archive articles are presented without the usual formatting.
I'm always eager to hear different opinions on the major issues facing our community. I'll meet someone new and it's not long before I'm prodding them, "So what do you think about ________?" For the past two weeks, you can no doubt guess what the prime topic of these impromptu conversations has been: the troubles at Hudson Bay Mining and Smelting. As has been reported extensively, H.B. will, in the coming months, suspend its Snow Lake operations indefinitely and likely announce the closure of its copper smelter, moves that will strip away as many as 400 company jobs. The random sampling of people with whom I've spoken informally (i.e. not as a reporter, but as a citizen) about this situation fall pretty much evenly into three camps. The first camp is made up of the optimists, those who have often been around these parts for decades and purport to have seen it all before. These individuals believe that while the current situation is stressful, Flin Flon will come out of it more or less in the same shape it is now. They put their faith in the oft-told fable that beneath Flin Flon is enough ore to keep us going for another 100 years Ð at least. The optimists like to point to the Lalor Lake zinc deposit and, less frequently, the Reed Lake deposit, both of which are near Snow Lake. They speculate about Flin Flonners one day commuting to Snow Lake and even to satellite mines that could pop up elsewhere across the North. A rosy outlook is not what the second camp is all about. These pessimists are understandably worried, frightened actually, of what may become of their beloved city. The pessimists can't see much hope in the grim headlines of late. Layoffs from the Snow Lake transfers. Layoffs from the smelter closure. Disappointing efforts to prolong the life of Trout Lake Mine beyond 2010. They wonder how there won't be a huge, detrimental impact. Then there's the final camp, the agnostics. They don't know what will happen and aren't about to predict one way or the other. They're open to both the good and the bad possibilities. Because of my job, people sometimes think that I have special knowledge about what's going to occur, but I only know as much as has been laid out in the pages of this newspaper. I still have an opinion, of course, though unlike the citizens with whom I've been speaking, I don't fit neatly into any one of the trio of camps Ð I'm in all three at once. First and foremost, and for whatever it is worth, my gut tells me that things won't be as bad as some fear. This is the first major downturn for HBMS in my adult life, but I've talked to enough people to know that our area has survived similar situations just fine in the past. Quite a few times, in fact. But there is also the part of me that looks at the cold hard facts and gets a sinking feeling inside Ð not as an impartial reporter, but as a resident of this great city. This part of me wants to believe the more optimistic part but can't always seal the deal. Finally, I'll admit there is also a part of me that truly does not know what to expect, good, bad or in between. There is still so much we don't know. When HBMS says it will work to mitigate the impact of these closures, what will that mean in terms of jobs potentially saved? If retirement incentives are ultimately offered to older workers, how many are willing Ð or can even afford Ð to call it a career? So it's fair to say that I simultaneously share everyone's optimism, fears and plain old uncertainty during this pivotal time in our city's history. My deepest hope, though, is that ourselves and our media counterparts can, in the very near future, begin reporting more welcome news. Local Angle runs Fridays.
