Ross (the Boss) of NDG's Blog

  We often think helping someone requires a large commitment. An afternoon. A volunteer shift. A program. A responsibility we aren't sure we have time to take on. And because our lives are already full, we sometimes do nothing. So today I'd like to propose a different idea for NDG: Give someone ten minutes. Not ten minutes every day. Not a new obligation. Just ten minutes when ten minutes could make another person's life a little easier. Ten Minutes Can Be Surprisingly Useful Think about how many small difficulties surround us every day. A neighbour is carrying groceries upstairs. Ten minutes. Someone can't figure out how to print a document. Ten minutes. A senior needs help changing a light bulb. Ten minutes. A newcomer is trying to understand a letter they received. Ten minutes. Someone needs a hand moving a small piece of furniture. Ten minutes. A child needs somebody to toss a ball with them while their parent catches their breath. Ten minutes. A neighbour's car...

  There is a simple question that can change the culture of a neighbourhood: “Who isn't here?” Not: Who came? How many people showed up? Was the event successful? But: Who isn't here—and why? That question leads us somewhere different. Because a truly caring community isn't measured only by how well it serves the people who find it easy to participate. It is measured by whether we notice the people who don't. Every Community Has Invisible Barriers Imagine a neighbourhood picnic in NDG. The music is playing. Children are laughing. Neighbours are talking. The tables are full. It looks like community. And it is. But somewhere nearby is a senior who didn't come because walking two blocks is difficult. A newcomer who didn't know whether they would be welcome. A parent who couldn't afford whatever was being sold. Someone who doesn't speak much English or French. A person with a disability who wasn't sure the location was accessible...

  There is something wonderfully human about food. We need it to survive, of course. But food has always been about much more than eating. We celebrate with it. We comfort with it. We welcome people with it. We say “I was thinking about you” with a casserole, a bowl of soup, a loaf of bread—or a plate containing a little more dinner than we needed. So today I'd like to suggest another tiny habit for transforming NDG. The Extra Plate. Every once in a while, when you're preparing something good, make a little extra. Then think: Who nearby might enjoy this? It Doesn't Have to Be About Need This is important. The Extra Plate isn't a food-bank program. It isn't charity. You don't have to determine whether somebody “needs” the food. Perhaps your neighbour is perfectly capable of making dinner. That's not the point. The message isn't: “I thought you needed help.” It's: “I thought of you.” Those are four very different words. And s...

  There is a beautiful moment that happens almost every day in a neighbourhood. Two people who have seen each other dozens of times finally stop being strangers. It can happen in a grocery store. In an apartment lobby. At the bus stop. Walking the dog. At the gym. For months, perhaps years, they have smiled, nodded or said good morning. Then one day somebody finally says: “By the way, I'm Ross. What's your name?” And suddenly everything changes. Not dramatically. But importantly. Because the next time they meet, it isn't: “Good morning.” It's: “Good morning, Catalina!” And there is something wonderfully human about hearing another person say our name. How Many Familiar Strangers Do You Have? Think about the people you regularly see in NDG. You may recognize their coat. Their dog. Their car. Their children. You may know approximately what time they'll walk past every morning. You might even worry when you don't see them. And yet… you ...

  There is a question we ask one another constantly: “How are you?” And there is an answer we give almost automatically: “Fine.” Most of the time, that's perfectly fine. But sometimes it isn't true. Sometimes behind “fine” is loneliness. Or exhaustion. Or worry about money. Or a difficult morning. Or grief. Or simply the feeling that life has become a little too heavy. So today I'd like to suggest another tiny habit for NDG. Ask twice. Not everyone. Not every time. But when something tells you that the first answer might not be the whole answer. The First Question Is Polite “How are you?” “Fine.” The second question is different. “No, really. How are you doing?” Suddenly the conversation has changed. You aren't demanding an explanation. You aren't trying to fix anything. You are simply communicating: I wasn't just being polite. I actually care about the answer. And sometimes that is enough to open a door. We Don't Always Need t...

We have been talking recently about the little human habits that can transform NDG: noticing people, greeting strangers, listening to stories, making room at the table, and celebrating the good. Today, let's try something different. Instead of asking, “How can we transform NDG?” Ask: “What if I simply took responsibility for my block?” Not responsibility in the official sense. You don't own the sidewalk. You aren't responsible for everybody's problems. You certainly don't need another job. This is something much simpler. It is a promise to yourself: Wherever I live, I will leave the little piece of the world around me better than I found it. Imagine 1,000 Tiny Headquarters We sometimes imagine community transformation beginning in an office, city hall, a community centre or a large organization. But what if its real headquarters were everywhere? An apartment on Somerled. A duplex near Monkland. A home off Sherbrooke. A balcony. A front porch. A lobby. Every one of t...