There is a street in my neighbourhood named New Street, which I find amusing because “new” is such a time sensitive word. We all know that new refers to something that didn’t exist before and if something holds on to the label of “new” for too long tends to feel ironic. It’s maybe then even more ironic then that this particular “New Street” is set in Inglewood the oldest neighbourhood in Calgary.
Last February my boyfriend Florian was visiting here from Berlin. Before he left Germany to come here, his brother Nico mentioned he would like a hockey helmet as a Canadian souvenir. When Florian told me this, I scoffed at the idea – mostly because I’m so cheap and hockey merchandise is so expensive. I asked if Nico was even a fan. “No, He just thinks ice hockey is very Canadian”. Europeans do this, they refer to it as “ice hockey”. In Canada there is no need to qualify that ice is involved in hockey. I tried to dissuade Florian, reasoning that it would take up way too much space in his suitcase on his return trip. He agreed and we promptly forgot about it.
Florian had never been to a professional hockey game and I had intended on taking him to a Flames game, but the week before we’d planned to go, the NHL went on indefinite hiatus due to the Pandemic. We had a long list of activities we were supposed to do during his stay but they all became impossible once we were in lockdown. So, for entertainment and exercise, we started going for daily, sometimes twice-daily walks. Besides grocery shopping, walking was the only reason to leave the house. We walked down every street and river path within a 5 kilometer radius of my apartment. After awhile our daily walks rarely yielded new content. I was so pleased one day when we saw a Beaver along the Bow river. “It’s the ultimate Canadian icon” I cheered. He looked unphased, “Yeah we have those in Berlin too”.
When May rolled around on what felt like our 500th walk down New Street, we actually did notice something new: a large box on the side of the curb. “FREE STUFF” it was labeled in all caps. We leaned over to inspect the contents and there at the bottom of the box was a hockey helmet.
Now let me clarify: This was not a collector’s edition hockey helmet. It wasn’t even adult sized. This was a child’s hockey helmet, complete with a face cage. It was used and looked like it. It was scuffed and had old stickers peeling off it. It was by no means gift worthy, but Florian immediately saw some potential in it and the price was right.
He decided he was going to take the helmet, clean it up and decorate it to look like some sort of collectible – not that either of us knew the first thing about collector hockey items. We did however have a shared wealth of creativity and he had already adopted my craft toolkit as his own. He got WD40 to remove old sticker residue, paint pens to create fake autographs and vinyl to cut intricate Canadian flag decals for a maple inspired look. My cutting mat and good scissors now permanently lived at his desk. Obviously, the intent was not to create an actual forgery but rather breath new life into something that would hopefully satisfy Nico’s desire for a slice of Canadiana.
Due to travel restrictions Florian’s six week stay turned into 6 months, which meant the hockey helmet also became longer term décor. I came home one day to Florian working ardently at the helmet “Did you know that ice hockey teams have like 30 players? These signatures are taking forever”. He showed me his handy work. They looked legit. He told me he decided this would be a present for Nico’s 30th birthday, which was coming up in August. He asked if I would hand paint Nico’s initials and his year of birth on the helmet. The humble helmet, which had began as roadside discard, originally intended to be a souvenir was now evolving into a commemorative endowment.
July rolled around and travel restrictions lifted allowing Florian to leave back to Germany. He bought a second suitcase for all the Canadian debris he’d accumulated: all the ingredients to make Cesars, mini cans of clamato, and Alberta Pure vodka (just because it had a label with the Rocky mountains). He had a half dozen bottles of maple syrup and some mini Canadian flags a-top toothpicks for some sort of delayed Canada day he’d have with family back home. And of course the hockey helmet. He doubled his luggage and set off back across the Atlantic.
In one of our first few video calls upon his return he told me he now needed to create something to display the helmet on. The cutting mat and crafting scissors had graduated to a workbench and electric saw. He got to work fashioning a metal framed display case complete with plexiglass panels to encase it. I got iterative updates daily. Once the display case was complete, he claimed it needed to be properly lit. He deconstructed the whole thing to accommodate a light that the helmet would sit on top of and be lit from within. I think it was at this this point where I recognized this was no longer about the helmet, it certainly wasn’t about the best gift for Nico, but rather it was an exercise in chasing the seductive DIY siren call of making something old new again.
What if it’s not just a hockey helmet in a lit display case, but rather a complete lighting experience. Florian began to refer to it as the 100 euro helmet project and I’m sure if the imminent 30th birthday hadn’t given him a deadline, it would have mutated into something even more unrecognizable. Florian did give Nico the most completed iteration for his birthday. This final final final version ended up employing an LED colour changing bulb that you can control the hue and brightness from your phone. The company that makes them boasts “will forever change the way you experience light”. I’m sure the glory these state-of-the-art bulbs was never intended to be shrouded by a used hockey helmet, but we are living in some fairly unprecedented times.
We recently hit the one-year mark of the Pandemic and while the chaos of the world never stops, day to day life feels remarkably the same. It’s spring again in Calgary and although that means a brown languishing defrost, there are small signs of new life and fresh buds beginning to pop out. Last week I was on the return portion of a daily walk loop and found myself back on New Street. As I approached the house where we’d encountered the FREE STUFF bin the year prior, I noticed something peeking out, as if it had just been born from the recycling bin.
It was another used hockey helmet.
I laughed and pulled out my phone to take a picture to send Florian. I must have still been smiling to myself because when I looked up a man was returning to that house from walking his dog. He looked at me with a curious smile “what did you take a picture of?” “The hockey helmet and let me tell you why”.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from writers in Humans and other communities.
Hind Rajab: A Child the World Heard Too Late
Cinema has always been a powerful medium for telling stories that history books often reduce to numbers. When a film chooses to focus on a single child caught in the machinery of war, it forces audiences to confront reality not as statistics, but as human loss. The movie inspired by the tragic story of Hind Rajab, a young Palestinian girl, does exactly that. It is not merely a film; it is a testimony, a memorial, and a question posed to the conscience of the world. Hind Rajab’s name became known globally after reports emerged of her final hours during the Gaza conflict. She was a child trapped in circumstances no child should ever experience. The film based on her story does not sensationalize her death, nor does it turn her suffering into spectacle. Instead, it approaches her story with restraint, dignity, and an unwavering focus on innocence lost amid violence. The Story at the Heart of the Film The movie centers on a young Palestinian girl who becomes separated from safety during intense military escalation. Through her eyes, viewers witness fear, confusion, and the fragile hope that someone, somewhere, will come to help. The film follows her final journey—both physical and emotional—using minimal dialogue and powerful visual storytelling. Rather than relying on graphic imagery, the filmmakers choose silence, pauses, and close-up shots to convey terror and vulnerability. This artistic choice makes the film even more haunting. The audience is left to sit with the child’s fear, her calls for help, and the unbearable waiting that defines her final moments. By focusing on Hind as an individual rather than a symbol, the film restores her humanity. She is not portrayed as a political tool, but as a daughter, a child with dreams, and a life that mattered. A Child as the Center of a Global Tragedy What makes this movie particularly impactful is its refusal to shift focus away from the civilian cost of war. The story does not revolve around soldiers, strategies, or power struggles. It revolves around a child who should have been worried about school, friends, and play—not survival. This narrative choice challenges the audience to rethink how conflicts are discussed in media and politics. Wars are often framed in terms of borders, ideologies, and victory. This film asks a different question: What is the price paid by those who have no role in choosing the war? By centering the story on Hind, the film exposes the imbalance of power and the devastating consequences faced by the most vulnerable. Artistic Direction and Emotional Weight The film’s direction is deliberately restrained. There is no dramatic background score overpowering the scenes. Instead, ambient sounds—distant explosions, static-filled phone calls, the quiet breathing of a frightened child—carry the emotional weight. This realism makes the film deeply unsettling. The young actress portraying Hind delivers a performance that is heartbreakingly authentic. Her expressions alone communicate fear, confusion, and bravery far beyond her years. The filmmakers avoid overacting or melodrama, allowing the story’s truth to speak for itself. Cinematography plays a crucial role as well. Tight frames and limited perspectives reinforce the feeling of entrapment, while long, unbroken shots force viewers to experience time as Hind did—slow, uncertain, and terrifying. A Political Film Without Political Speeches One of the film’s greatest strengths is that it does not rely on speeches or overt political messaging. Its power lies in its simplicity. By telling one child’s story honestly, it exposes the broader reality of civilian suffering in conflict zones. The film does not tell audiences what to think. Instead, it asks them to feel—and that is far more powerful. Viewers are left to grapple with difficult questions about responsibility, accountability, and the value of human life. This approach has made the movie resonate across cultures and ideologies. Even those unfamiliar with the details of the Palestinian struggle can connect with the universal themes of childhood, fear, and loss. Reception and Global Impact Since its release, the film has sparked intense discussion on social media, in film circles, and among human rights advocates. Many viewers describe it as one of the most emotionally challenging films they have ever watched. Critics have praised its ethical storytelling and refusal to exploit tragedy. For many, the movie serves as an entry point into understanding the human cost of the Gaza conflict. It has been screened at independent film festivals and community events, often followed by discussions about civilian protection and children in war zones. Most importantly, the film ensures that Hind Rajab’s name is not forgotten. In a world where news cycles move quickly, cinema has given her story permanence. Why This Film Matters This movie matters because it stands against normalization of suffering. It reminds us that behind every headline about war are real people, real families, and real children whose lives are forever altered—or ended. By immortalizing Hind Rajab’s story, the film becomes an act of resistance against silence. It insists that her life had meaning and that her death deserves acknowledgment, reflection, and accountability. In the end, this is not just a film about one Palestinian girl. It is a film about every child trapped in conflict, every unanswered call for help, and every moment when humanity fails its youngest members. Cinema cannot undo tragedy, but it can refuse to let it be ignored. And in doing so, this film ensures that Hind Rajab’s story continues to speak—long after the screen fades to black.
By Hasbanullah8 days ago in Humans
Comments (1)
The list of the toughest NHL players in this article is a tribute to the warriors who defined the physical side of hockey. Each player mentioned stands out not just for their skill on the ice, but for their incredible resilience and ability to take on the hardest challenges. The stories behind these players are fascinating, showing the mental and physical toughness required to succeed in one of the most grueling sports. Their legacies continue to inspire future generations of hockey players. This piece https://azbigmedia.com/blogs/top-6-toughest-gnarliest-hockey-players-of-all-time/ is a must-read for anyone who appreciates the grit and toughness of the game.