I grew up in Nova Scotia, and my uncle lived close to the Bay of Fundy. We would walk across the mud flats out to an island, and then you'd climb a cliff and be in the forest. And if the water came in, the basin would fill up with, like, a 30-foot tide. It was phenomenal.
Never be discouraged. If I were sunk in the lowest pits of Nova Scotia, with the Rocky Mountains piled on me, I would hang on, exercise faith, and keep up good courage, and I would come out on top.
I grew up in Nova Scotia, so there weren't a whole lot of rules.
I'd like to get back home to Nova Scotia more, but thankfully, with technology you can call and text and FaceTime. But physically being in Toronto or Nova Scotia... there's nothing like it.
I grew up in Nova Scotia, so there werent a whole lot of rules.
Sometimes I would come back from a run, and my artificial leg would have a puddle of blood from my stump. I wouldn't go to sick bay. In that year, if I had gone to sick bay, they would have written me up. I didn't go to sick bay. I'd go somewhere and hide and soak my leg in a bucket of hot water with salt in it--an old remedy. Then I'd get up the next morning and run.
We grew up in Islington, north London, in a Georgian terraced house that nowadays would be split into flats. Our grandparents lived upstairs, there was another tenant living up there and downstairs was the office where people in the area paid their rent.
I grew up in the Bay Area until 1976, then I pretty much went all the way through primary and high school on Bainbridge, though like anybody who grows up on an island, I ran the first chance I got.
As a young boy growing up in New York City, we would spend our summers on the South Fork of Long Island. My dad would take me down to the beach at low tide. We would walk a mile down to the jetties, and he would lower me by my ankles into the crevices between the massive boulders to grab at huge ropes of mussels.
That's how we grew up - kinda like Pops would put his drums, his percussion and instruments into the car and we would just go to a facility in the Bay Area and he would say to us, 'You think we have it bad? There are people worse off than we are. Let's go give back to the kids.' And that's how we grew up.
I grew up in Bedford, N.Y., and it was close enough to Jones Beach on Long Island that every summer my mother would pack the car for the day, and we would drive to the beach!
I once owned a home on an island off the coast of Cape Breton, Nova Scotia.
NED is talking about through-putting this energy out to the vicinity of Boston then taking a northern route up to Nova Scotia and then exporting it, so they're not talking about giving us any local benefits at all.
I grew up in that minority. I grew up in the South, in Roswell, Georgia, and it was heavily white, Baptist, conservative. And the idea that somebody would come there and say those things that I said created an atmosphere where some people would walk out, and suddenly they weren't in the minority. For an hour and a half, they were the majority. So I would argue that it does need to be said.
Congo, my country, has the largest forest in Africa, maybe the second-largest in the world. I was born in a forest area, and when I was growing up, I assisted my uncle, who was a poacher. That was good, because it grew my passion for protecting the forest and plants.
A Mudboy is just somebody who came from nothing: you know, who turned nothing into something. You know, when I was in Africa, in the rain, I walk around in, like, mud, you know, the sand would turn to mud, and you are not getting out of that.
I grew up in Nova Scotia most of my life. And three years of my childhood we actually spent in Toronto and that's when my eyes were opened and my life was changed. We went to museums and theater and I was a minority. It was fantastic.