Ross (the Boss) of NDG's Blog

  There are two very different ways to live in a neighbourhood. We can live beside one another. Or we can live with one another. The difference may come down to one small but powerful human act: Invitation. “Come sit with us.” “Come for coffee.” “Come walk with me.” “We're going to the park. Want to join us?” “We're having a few neighbours over. We'd love you to come.” Those words cost nothing. But for someone who is lonely, new to NDG, recently widowed, shy, struggling, living alone, or simply unsure where they belong, they can mean everything. There Is a Difference Between Being Welcome and Being Invited We often think of ourselves as welcoming people. And I'm sure most of us are. If somebody came over, we'd be happy to see them. If somebody joined us, we'd include them. But there is an enormous difference between knowing that you would probably be welcome and hearing somebody actually say: “I would like you to come.” Invitation removes ...

  We often talk about community as though it were something we need to create from scratch. But community is already here. It is the woman three doors down. The older gentleman across the street. The family with the new baby. The person recovering from surgery. The newcomer who doesn't know many people yet. The neighbour living alone. The young parent who seems to be juggling everything. The person we wave to every morning without yet knowing their name. Perhaps transforming NDG doesn't begin by creating something enormous. Perhaps it begins by becoming more aware of the people already living within a hundred metres of us. Imagine a Different Kind of Block Imagine if every street in NDG had a handful of people who quietly paid attention. Not watching people. Looking out for them. They would know which neighbour might appreciate having their walkway cleared after a snowfall. They would notice when the senior who normally takes a morning walk hadn't been see...

  There is something wonderfully powerful that costs absolutely nothing: Noticing when somebody else is doing something good—and telling them. We are often quick to notice what isn't working. The garbage left on the sidewalk. The driver who didn't stop. The neighbour who made too much noise. The business that disappointed us. The thing somebody should have done differently. And sometimes those things need attention. But what if we became equally skilled at noticing everything that is going right? What if NDG became a neighbourhood where people regularly caught one another doing something good? Imagine What We Would Begin to Notice The employee at the grocery store who remembers someone's name. The neighbour who quietly puts another person's recycling bin back. The teenager who gives up their seat. The person who holds a door. The crossing guard who greets children every morning. The apartment superintendent who fixes something nobody else even realized...

  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...