Ross (the Boss) of NDG's Blog

  Every morning, long before most of us are thinking about the day ahead, people are already working throughout NDG. Someone is stocking grocery shelves. Someone is baking bread. Someone is cleaning a building. Someone is driving a bus. Someone is preparing a classroom. Someone is unloading a delivery truck. Someone is opening a café. Someone is collecting garbage. Someone is caring for another human being. Someone is making sure that when the rest of us arrive, everything works. We see these people every day. But how often do we really see them? The Invisible Architecture of a Community When we think about what makes a neighbourhood wonderful, we naturally think about parks, schools, businesses, churches, community organizations and beautiful streets. But underneath all of that is something even more important: People. Ordinary people doing ordinary jobs extraordinarily faithfully. The cashier who remembers your name. The crossing guard standing outside in misera...

  We talk a great deal about the problems communities need to solve. Food insecurity. Loneliness. Mental health. Isolation. Housing. Seniors needing assistance. Families under pressure. All of these matter enormously, and they are central to what I hope A NuVo World can help address in NDG. But there is something else a wonderful community should create. Joy. Not entertainment purchased for us. Not enormous festivals requiring months of organization. Just ordinary, spontaneous, human joy woven into everyday neighbourhood life. Because perhaps one sign of a truly healthy community isn't simply that fewer people are struggling. Perhaps it is that more people are smiling. Imagine Little Pockets of Joy Throughout NDG Imagine walking down Monkland and hearing someone playing a guitar outside. A few people stop. Someone begins singing. A child starts dancing. Nobody planned it. For five minutes, a sidewalk becomes a stage. Imagine somebody putting a little table ...

  There are burdens we can see. A heavy grocery bag. A stroller being wrestled up a flight of stairs. A driveway buried after a snowfall. A piece of furniture that needs moving. But many of the heaviest things people carry are invisible. Worry. Grief. Exhaustion. Financial pressure. Caring for an aging parent. Raising children while trying to hold everything else together. Recovering from illness. Trying to find work. Simply having too much to do and too little energy left to do it. We pass people carrying these invisible loads every day. And perhaps one of the most beautiful questions we could introduce throughout NDG is: “What can I carry for you?” Not: “How can I fix your life?” Just: “Can I make today a little easier?” Imagine a Neighbourhood of Small Burden-Sharers Someone is going to the grocery store and asks an older neighbour: “I'm going anyway. Do you need anything?” A parent is taking their children to hockey and tells another family: “We have ...

  Food has always been about more than food. A table is one of humanity's oldest gathering places. It is where strangers become acquaintances. Where acquaintances become friends. Where stories are told. Where children learn about adults and adults rediscover children. Where laughter happens. Where somebody notices that another person seems quieter than usual. Where, for a little while, we belong to one another. So here is a simple idea for transforming NDG: Let's share more tables. Not necessarily elaborate dinners. Not expensive restaurants. Not formal invitations requiring days of preparation. Just people eating together more often. The Extra-Plate Habit Imagine if households throughout NDG occasionally developed a simple habit: When you can, make one extra plate. Perhaps there is an older neighbour living alone. A university student far from home. A recently separated parent. Someone recovering from illness. A newcomer to Canada. A friend going throug...

  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...