As we face this pandemic be thankful for neighbours

When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.

Fred Rogers

When my family moved to Killaloe almost four years ago, I was warned that locals would view me as an outsider. I was told that people in these parts stuck together, and that there was a palpable difference between how they treated each other vs. how they would inevitably treat me, even though my wife was born and raised here.

I am happy to report that none of those warnings materialized, and after years of meeting countless residents I can honestly say that I only dislike a few of them, but that’s only because I cover local politics.

Jokes aside, when the news of COVID-19 began to trickle in, the very first thought that came to mind was how thankful I was to be in self isolation up in this community. Like I said to my city friends over the past few years, the people here do not put on masks. You are more genuine, more authentic, less likely to judge people for their clothes or their income than your urban counterparts. You’d be surprised how important those characteristics are for those of us who spent decades in Toronto and its suburban outskirts.

Yes, everything is so uncertain right now. We are worried about our vulnerable loved ones. Some of us are wondering how we will pay the bills or put food on the table. The television and internet seem to offer a constant loop of harrowing statements by politicians trying to cushion the blow by striking the right tone, even as they tell us to stay at home for the foreseeable future. The worldwide death toll keeps rising, and the only thing experts seem to be certain about is that the immediate and long term prospects of returning to our daily routines are very uncertain.

During these times, it is important to find the silver linings, and I think I know where to find them.

All around this community there are people on the front lines making our lives a little less worrying, and a little safer. They work as nurses, elderly caregivers, grocery store clerks, and others who are putting their own health at risk so that we can find some semblance of normalcy while we wait for this crisis to end. Think of how much worse all this would be without people who place selflessness ahead of their own personal safety, and how quickly our modest community would grind to a halt if we did not have them stepping up for all of us.

But wait, there’s more.

For the past two weeks, ever since the government began recommending social distance, self isolation and even quarantines for those infected, I have listened to beautiful stories of humanity. Everything from a neighbour shovelling all the driveways on their street, to young people offering to go to the grocery store for elderly residents so they don’t have to be put into harm’s way.

Families are spending more time together, a powerful ancillary benefit of this pandemic. Speaking for myself, this past week as my family and I hunkered down together, each day has been both surreal and rewarding. Sure, there are moments when the isolation makes everyone a little stir crazy, but those moments are fleeting … for now. Maybe I’m just projecting, because lately whenever I have found myself grumpy or awash with cabin fever, I retreat to why we are here in the first place and how other families have lost loved ones, and I become quietly thankful as I watch my son play with his dinosaurs or my daughter show me her latest dance move.

Silver linings.

I’ve been speaking with friends still living in Toronto, and many of them seem pretty stressed out. They are responsible enough to adhere to social distancing or self isolation requests, but most of them tell stories of blatant irresponsible behaviours from fellow Torontonians; people gathering in large crowds, hoarding essential items from stores, and taking a generally dismissive tone about the seriousness of the situation.

Not here though. Sure, we have the benefit of three million fewer people, but we also have a foundation in this community where the cultural reflex is to make sure we are looking out for one another. You might not see Madawaska Valley precisely the same way as I do, but I can assure you this place is sprinkled with salt of the earth, lovely folks ready to lend a helping hand.

No pandemic can touch that part of us. It’s stitched into the fabric of the people, carved into our character like the hills within the valley, and reinforced by endless examples of good deeds and sentiment.

That’s what makes this community feel like home, even to an outsider like me.

image aletia.org