Ross (the Boss) of NDG's Blog

  There is something almost everyone in NDG possesses. Some have more of it than others. Some feel they never have enough. And once it is gone, none of us can get it back. Time. We often think generosity means giving money, food, clothing or possessions. But perhaps one of the most meaningful things we can give another human being is simply a little of our time. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Half an hour. Not because we have nothing else to do. But because, for those few minutes, we decide: You are more important than whatever I was rushing toward. The Gift We Rarely Put a Name To Imagine someone saying: “I've got ten minutes. Want some company?” That could mean sitting beside an older neighbour who spends much of the day alone. Walking partway home with somebody. Listening to a teenager who has something on their mind. Helping a newcomer practise English or French. Playing catch with a child. Having coffee with someone who recently lost their spouse. Showing a ...

  There is a question I think could quietly change a neighbourhood. It doesn't require money. It doesn't require a committee. It doesn't require permission from City Hall. It requires only that we begin noticing when another person's day is a little harder than it needs to be—and ask: “How can I make this easier for you?” Not “Do you need help?” That question is surprisingly easy to answer with: “No, I'm fine.” Many of us don't like admitting that we need help. But “How can I make this easier?” feels different. It assumes that life can sometimes be difficult—and that none of us has to make it through every difficult moment alone. Imagine an “Easier NDG” Picture an older neighbour returning from the grocery store carrying four bags. “How can I make this easier?” Perhaps you carry two of them. Someone is struggling to get a stroller through a heavy door. You hold it open. A parent is trying to manage two children, groceries and a dog. You pick...

  We spend a lot of time thinking about how to get people moving. Walking paths. Bike lanes. Public transportation. Cars. Sidewalks. All important. But perhaps a truly connected neighbourhood should also think about something much simpler: Where can people stop? Not shop. Not spend money. Not make an appointment. Not accomplish anything. Just stop. Sit down. Watch the world. Rest tired legs. Talk to somebody. I think NDG could become an even more wonderful community if we deliberately created hundreds of tiny places where people could simply be together. The Humble Bench There is nothing technologically impressive about a bench. And yet I think a bench can be one of the most powerful pieces of community infrastructure we can build. Put a bench in the right place and watch what happens. A senior sits down halfway home from the grocery store. A mother rests while her child investigates an interesting bug. Two teenagers sit and talk. A dog owner stops for fi...

  What If Everyone Had Someone Looking Out for Them? Imagine an NDG where nobody had to face life entirely alone. Not because we created another government program. Not because we built another institution. But because we decided, as neighbours, that looking out for one another is simply what we do. Imagine every street, apartment building and block having people who notice. They notice when the elderly gentleman who normally walks every morning hasn't been seen for a few days. They notice when the young mother carrying groceries could use another pair of hands. They notice the newcomer who doesn't know anyone yet. They notice the person sitting alone. They notice the child who waves. And eventually, something wonderful happens: People begin noticing one another back. This is one of the simplest ideas behind A NuVo World. Before we build magnificent NuVoWay LifeStyle Centres, before we transform transportation, food, health, recreation and education, we can begin with something...

  Every person walking through NDG knows something you don't. The retired carpenter knows how to repair a chair. The grandmother upstairs knows a recipe her family has made for generations. The teenager knows how to do things with a phone that mystify half the adults around them. The newcomer from another country speaks a language you don't understand and carries traditions you may never have experienced. The gardener knows which flowers will survive in that impossible patch of shade. The musician knows three chords that could get you started on guitar. The mechanic knows why your car is making that strange noise. The child knows a game you've forgotten how to play. The senior on the park bench knows what NDG looked like fifty years ago. And the person you pass every morning may possess an extraordinary skill you will never discover unless somebody asks. “What can you teach me?” I think that could become a wonderful A NuVo World habit. We often think of educat...

  There is a simple principle I have always loved: Leave it better than you found it. We usually associate that idea with camping. You arrive at a beautiful place, enjoy it, clean up after yourself and perhaps pick up something somebody else left behind. Then you leave. And because you were there, the place is slightly better than it was before. What if we applied that principle not merely to parks and campsites—but to our entire neighbourhood? What if thousands of people in NDG quietly adopted one little habit: Wherever I go today, I will leave something slightly better. Not dramatically better. Not perfectly better. Just better . You walk past a piece of litter. Pick it up. You enter your apartment lobby and notice a flyer lying on the floor. Put it where it belongs. Someone has left a shopping cart where it blocks the sidewalk. Move it. A chair at the café is sticking into the aisle. Push it in. A branch has fallen across a pathway. Move it aside. A neighb...