Rediscovering My Childhood in Windsor, Ontario: The Future National Urban Park

Rediscovering My Childhood in Windsor, Ontario

While I occasionally return to my hometown of Windsor, Ontario, to report on various articles, few of them resonate with my childhood as profoundly as the story of Canada’s upcoming national urban park. This recent trip not only rekindled memories but also filled in significant gaps from my past.

All that remains of a once-promising steel town in Windsor are crumbling sidewalks and remnants of an abandoned vision. Credit: Tara Walton for The New York Times

As I detailed in a recent article, a bill currently making its way through the Senate, coupled with funding from the latest federal budget, indicates that a mosaic of lands surrounded by industry, highways, commercial spaces, and residential neighborhoods will soon be designated as a national urban park—likely within the next year.

[Read: Amid Heavy Industry, Canada’s Newest (and Tiniest) National Park]

Although the final boundaries and name of the park are still under discussion, one particular area that is almost certain to be included was, in fact, one of my childhood playgrounds. This spot was just a few blocks from my family home, nestled in a neighborhood developed between the 1950s and 1970s. Back then, we affectionately referred to it as Rankin Bush, presumably named after the street that once marked its eastern border before the developers moved in.

What made this park unique was its novel feature: a network of crumbling sidewalks and partially overgrown, unpaved roadways that crisscrossed the forested area. These paths were perfect for cycling, playing ball games, and even experimenting with homemade gunpowder, which often resulted in little more than a fizzle and a disappointing puff of smoke. There were plenty of legends about what older kids might have done in the bush at night, but I can’t confirm any of those tales.

By the time I reached high school, I had learned that these sidewalks and roadways were remnants of a failed company town, originally intended to support a steel mill project that ultimately collapsed during the Great Depression. Today, a section of that unfinished mill still stands near the Ojibway Nature Center, which will play a pivotal role in the establishment of the national park. Ironically, the failure of the steel mill project allowed for the preservation of swathes of tallgrass prairie and woodlands in an area that has otherwise been overwhelmingly dominated by industrial and agricultural development.