Ross (the Boss) of NDG's Blog

  Loneliness doesn't always look lonely. Sometimes it looks like an elderly man buying one frozen dinner. Sometimes it is the person in the apartment across the hall whom we have seen hundreds of times but never really met. Sometimes it is a newcomer who left family and friends thousands of kilometres away. Sometimes it is a student eating dinner over a laptop. Sometimes it is a widow setting a table for one after having set it for two for fifty years. And sometimes it is somebody surrounded by people who still feels completely alone. We cannot eliminate loneliness from NDG. But perhaps we can make it much harder for loneliness to remain invisible . I would love to see a simple community habit spread throughout our neighbourhood: The Extra Plate Whenever we're preparing a meal, ordering a pizza, having a barbecue or sitting down for Sunday breakfast, we occasionally ask ourselves: “Is there somebody nearby who might enjoy sharing this with us?” Not somebody we nee...

  Every person walking the streets of NDG knows something that somebody else would love to learn. Think about that for a moment. Behind the doors of our apartments and houses are thousands upon thousands of skills, experiences, traditions and talents. Someone knows how to repair a bicycle. Someone can bake magnificent bread. Someone speaks three languages. Someone knows how to grow tomatoes. Someone can teach a child to play guitar. Someone knows how to sew on a button, prepare an incredible curry, use a computer, paint a room, make a household budget, change a tire, take a beautiful photograph or fix a dripping faucet. And our older neighbours possess something particularly precious: decades of accumulated knowledge. Yet much of it remains hidden because we've created a society in which, when we need to learn something, we usually turn to a screen rather than to one another . What if NDG began doing something different? What if we created a culture of neighbours teac...

  We are very good at saying wonderful things about people when they retire, move away, win an award—or when it is too late for them to hear us. But what if we didn't wait? What if part of transforming NDG was creating a culture of everyday appreciation ? There are people all around us quietly making this neighbourhood better. The crossing guard who watches over our children. The cashier who remembers our name. The superintendent who fixes something at 9 o'clock at night. The bus driver who waits an extra few seconds for someone running toward the stop. The teacher who sees potential in a struggling child. The person who keeps the sidewalk outside their building beautiful. The neighbour who carries someone's groceries. The merchant who has served the community for thirty years. The teenager who gives up a seat for an older person. The person who picks up a piece of garbage that wasn't theirs. Most of these people will never receive an award. Perhaps they...

  We often imagine that changing a community requires something enormous. A new building. A major program. A large investment. A grand plan. Sometimes it does. But there is another kind of transformation available to every one of us, beginning today. We can surprise someone with kindness. Not because it is their birthday. Not because they asked for help. Not because we expect anything in return. Simply because we had an opportunity to make another person's day a little better—and decided to take it. Imagine walking into your apartment lobby and finding a little vase of flowers with a handwritten note: “For whoever needs a smile today.” Imagine arriving at your favourite café and discovering that someone has already paid for your coffee. Imagine an elderly neighbour opening their door to find a small bag containing two fresh muffins. Imagine a child discovering a colourful message written in sidewalk chalk: “NDG IS BETTER BECAUSE YOU'RE HERE!” Imagine leaving ...

  One of the simplest pieces of community infrastructure is also one of the most powerful. A bench. It doesn't look revolutionary. It doesn't require a committee, a major budget or an elaborate program. It simply says: You are welcome to stop here. And something interesting happens when people stop. They begin to notice one another. Think about how much of modern life is designed to keep us moving. We leave home, get into a car, rush to the store, finish our errands and hurry back. Even when we walk, we are often trying to get somewhere. But a bench interrupts that rhythm. An older person sits down to rest. A parent stops with a child. Someone walking a dog takes a break. Two neighbours recognize one another. A stranger says hello. And sometimes a conversation begins that would never have happened if everybody had simply kept walking. That is why I would love to see more places to sit throughout NDG . Not only in our parks. Along commercial streets. Outside apa...

  Somewhere along the way to adulthood, many of us stop playing. We walk through parks instead of playing in them. We watch children toss balls, chase one another and laugh uncontrollably—and perhaps forget that there was once a time when we did exactly the same thing. But what if play isn't just for children? What if it is one of the ingredients of a healthy community? Imagine walking through NDG on a summer evening and finding a chessboard set up on a sidewalk table. A few blocks away, grandparents are teaching children how to play bocce. In the park, teenagers are shooting baskets beside adults who haven't touched a basketball in twenty years. Someone has brought a guitar. Another group is playing cards. Children are drawing an enormous picture in sidewalk chalk. Two strangers are tossing a Frisbee. And somewhere, inevitably, people are laughing. There is something important happening in all of those moments. Barriers are disappearing. We spend much of our liv...