As my wife and family will attest, I am a workaholic and have been all of my adult life.

The term “work-life balance” was never in my lexicon. Working 80 to 100 hours per week was the norm, not the exception.

Even our relatively infrequent vacations would typically contain some elements of my work.

It’s not that I didn’t try…

On our 25th wedding anniversary, I took my wife on a Mediterranean cruise while promising to “just unplug.”

Five days in, I went to her and said, “Not only have I named every deck board on this ship, but I’ve had a conversation with every single one. Let’s disembark in Civitavecchia, go into Rome, visit the Colosseum and tour the Vatican museum. Then we can take the train up to Florence, hit the Uffizi Gallery, Ponte Vecchio and the Duomo before rejoining the cruise ship in Livorno.”

She replied, “Well, you lasted four days longer than I thought you would… Sure, let’s go.”

Bluntly, to create was my passion so it was never really “work.”

That said, for a few days every year, my pen was laid down, projects put aside and surrounded by the love of family, we would celebrate the Yuletide.

Perhaps it was the way I was raised — Christmas Day was a magical event in my parents’ house. It was a time of peace, thankfulness and sharing.

By two in the afternoon, the house was full of family — both immediate and extended — representing three, and later four, generations.

Within the hour, my mother would take her place at the piano and every person present would gather around and sing the immortal carols of the season.

It didn’t matter if one had the voice of an angel or was tone-deaf; it was about joining our voices and spirits together in celebration of the shared experience of being part of a greater whole.

It was understood that this sense of belonging was not limited to just those gathered together around that piano but encompassed all of God’s creation.

In my family, Yule was then and remains so now, a time to renew our commitment to, “Walk gently upon the earth and do unto others as we would have them do unto us.”

Would that more decisions that affect the history, heritage, character and future of our precious town be made in accordance with these two simple precepts.

In 2025, we have borne witness to a series of assaults on the tapestry of Niagara-on-the-Lake. Consider the following examples drawn from a much longer list:

In January, council voted to allow severance of the heritage-designated Crysler-Burroughs property at 187 Queen St., disregarding more than 200 years of history, the recommendation of the municipal heritage committee and the vote of the committee of adjustment. And, the proper preservation of the 1822 dwelling remains in question (“‘We won’t be able to save anything,’ says resident after town settles with Hummel,” Jan. 23).

In March, underwritten by council vote, up to 800 mature trees were permitted to be cut down to facilitate the construction of ticky-tacky townhouses in a Virgil development (“Virgil housing development removes at least 700 trees,” March 6).

Despite NOTL having the lowest level of tree coverage in Niagara, apparently, saving trees only matters when they don’t occupy land that a developer wants to build on.

April saw the complete destruction of Glencairn — the glorious Greek Revival mansion built for John Hamilton in 1832 — in what the authorities have since deemed a “targeted act of criminal arson” (“Glencairn fire arson, police say,” June 19) — and, a few months later, saw the severance of the historic Glencairn property into two parts (one of which was transferred to the owner of neighbouring properties), further degrading its heritage value (“Merger of Glencairn and neighbouring property gets green light,” Sept. 4).

In what I deem to be an appalling act of disrespect towards NOTL’s designated heritage district, the neighbouring property owners and Old Town’s essential historic small-town character, June saw the Shaw Festival trot out plans to replace the old Royal George theatre with a modernist colossus of a building which would completely alter the face of both Queen and Victoria streets (“Residents concerned about size of Royal George rebuild,” June 26).

Not only did this proposal call for the demolition of the Royal George, but it included several other historic buildings as well (“Shaw to tear down houses on Victoria Street,” Sept. 25).

Demolition permits have been granted and, in November, the council voted in favour of an official plan amendment and rezoning the merged properties to allow the proposal to proceed (“Royal George rebuild back on stage,” Nov. 20).

Without site plan approval, adequate engineering studies or building permits, a huge crater has been dug on the Parliament Oak property in preparation for the construction of a new hotel in the middle of a residential district — a development council voted in favour of it despite vociferous opposition from the community.

Recently, I was asked, “Do we really need another hotel?”

On Monday of this week, the Ford government announced its “Destination Niagara Strategy,” promising new tourist attractions, the development of new casino and gaming experiences, etc.

Forget Clifton Hill … Welcome to Las Vegas, Ontario.

So, I guess the answer to that question could be: the developers knew more about the future than we poor common folks. 

Let’s hope 2026 is better … It’s all I want for Christmas.

Brian Marshall is a NOTL realtor, author and expert consultant on architectural design, restoration and heritage.