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Falling Through The Cracks

It’s easy to fall through the cracks during a worldwide pandemic. So much is based on the big picture. Governments move with the majority. Concerns are for the many. People in charge are responsible for overall numbers.

I’m worried about the ones that get lost. Sometimes they fall so far behind we forget they were even here.

When I tell people I’ve lost my day job and am having trouble paying rent the usual response is quick. “Well Trudeau announced that they have CERB, you can sign up for that.” “There’s rent money available.” “Have you gone to the bank?”

Do you really think I would lose my job and not hustle to source any available dollars out there to help? I know the advice is well meaning, but sometimes we need more than words.

Still, I fell through the cracks and then started to look around to see who was here with me.

It seems there are many of us.

And it’s not just on the financial side, but on every aspect of life. All the little details that keep the wheels turning are now misaligned. We are wavering. You are supposed to have back-up plans but really, who actually has them?

Luckily, most of us will pull through.

Then a ray of hope; almost a redemption. The spotlight turned and focused on our disadvantaged seniors. We can no longer deny they have been falling through the cracks long before COVID-19. Most of us have been ignoring them for years. These are the people without a voice and it’s easy to keep them quiet. Devastatingly easy.

If we learn one thing from this pandemic, let it be that we stop ignoring our compromised elders. Stop hiding them behind closed and locked doors.

Even if the spotlight focuses on the next tragedy, let’s not fall backwards and forget.

As the days and weeks and months of social change merge together, let’s take what we have learned and keep pushing to make things better. Let’s make amends.

This can’t happen again.

And as Desmond Tutu so wisely said, “There comes a point where we need to stop just pulling people out of the river. We need to go upstream and find out why they’re falling in.”

But for now…If you see someone falling through the cracks reach out and grab their hand.

Pull them back to the boat. Don’t let them drift away.

Today there are plenty of people putting on masks and gloves and holding many hands.

Tomorrow we’ll need to look around to make sure no one else is missing.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to start filling those cracks so we don’t keep repeating the chaos.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dad’s Birthday

Dad would be turning 90 today, so it seemed like a good time to get back to writing my blog.

We would have had lunch together. I would tell him all about my running in the civic election and he would be proud.

Dad had a strong sense of right and wrong and wasn’t afraid to voice his opinion. He also had a deep appreciation for the obligation to “give back.” He would have loved that I am stepping up for Vancouver. I can almost hear him say that it will be time well spent no matter what the outcome.

Dad and I would go for walks around his old neighbourhood in the shadow of Queen Elizabeth Park. He loved it there and it pleased him that I lived close by. He had moved to the North Shore but enjoyed coming to visit. I will always remember him crossing his arms behind his back as we strolled along the paths in the park. To this day I mimic the same posture and feel like he’s here with me.

I miss him.

I still carry around this picture taken during one of our lunches. I’ve re-taped it onto the front page of my day-timer for the last ten years. I see it every day.

 

Dad liked that my work focused on seniors and people in need. He encouraged me to help older adults and when required, to be their voice. He had always stepped up for his elderly patients and taught me to do the same. Sometimes the task was difficult and his response to me was to “suck it up and do your job.” I can still hear his voice.

I think he would have loved this political chapter of my life.

I wish he was here.

Happy Birthday Dad!

 

 

My Political Life