As one travels around Winnipeg, what would it take to be more caring?
“One of these days you’re gonna love me. Sit down by yourself and think. About the times you pushed and shoved me. And what good friends we might have been. And then you’re gonna smile a little, maybe even cry a little. One of these days you’re gonna love me.”
That song almost always brings a tear to my eye. It reminds me of the people in my life that I should have been nicer to.
I wasn’t 20 steps in our downtown library, when a man called me by name. “Stephanie! Do you remember me?”
Don’t you hate it when people put you on the spot like that?
I searched through the rolodex in my mind while I looked this fellow over. He was a big man. He had long, curly hair that almost covered his eyes. He had a big, bushy, unkempt beard. I was certain I had never met this man before.
And then he said his name. “Jim.”
Oh, Jim. I did remember him. Suddenly the memories came like a landslide. Jim was the boy in grade school who had a very tough time. Perhaps you had a ‘Jim’ in your school too. My Jim had to go through daily humiliation — not only inflicted by the students, but by our grade 3 teacher as well.
You see Jim was dirty. Hardly the fault of an 8-year-old-boy, one can only imagine what his home life was like. Everyday Jim came to school his first task was to show both sides of his hands to the teacher. And if they were dirty (which they were – everyday) she would hand him a bar of soap that she kept in her desk just for him. Off he would go to the washroom then come back to show his hands again to see if he had passed the first ‘test’ of the day.
My 8-year-old self felt so horrified for him, in some way knowing something was terribly wrong but not knowing what or how to handle it.
I remember Jim at the sock hop. Going from girl to girl asking her to dance. No after no, he just kept asking undetered. I knew I was next in line; I remember all these conflicting feelings running through my head. I knew what I should do and I knew what I wanted to do. We danced. But all the while I remember wondering what were all the girls thinking as they watched.
Back in the library Jim was quite animated. He knew about me, and what I was doing and who I married. He said he read about me in the paper – so I thought maybe it was the community paper and that we lived in the same part of town.
“Where do you live?” anticipating we were in the same neighborhood.
The Salvation Army is one of several shelters in Winnipeg.
His answer shocked me.
“The Salvation Army on Higgins” he said, “I’ve been struggling with depression but I’m getting better.”
He said this, not with sadness. He said this with pride and hope in his voice. I’m getting better.
“Oh Jim, I’m so sorry, no one deserve that.”
We chatted for a few more minutes until a lady in the library told us to “shhhh.” Oops, sorry.
“Jim, I have to go, I’m taking a class upstairs that starts at 2 o’clock. It was really nice seeing you.”
And we parted.
Even though my body sat upstairs in that class, my mind was anywhere but. I realized that I did not do the very thing that I teach my clients to do. I did not do the thing that I encourage my audiences to do and that is to ask W.I.N. – what’s important now.
Surely if I had asked myself that question, I would have realized that sitting in that class was not what was most important at that time. Going to sit down with Jim and buying him a coffee would have been so much more valuable. I was really disappointed with myself.
When I was telling my family this story around the supper table that evening (where was he eating and was he with people who loved him?) I started to cry with sadness at the opportunity I had let slip away.
My son (who works for the Police Service) explains to me that the Salvation Army is a better place than some of the other options; that mostly it has people who are down on their luck or have a mental illness rather than those whose lives have become dedicated to drugs and alcohol.
The next day I had a bright idea. I was going to an event downtown – he lived downtown. What if I asked him if he would like to go?
Yes, that’s what I would do.
For the first time in my life I phoned the Salvation Army for something other than a donation pick up. While they won’t tell you if a person is staying there, they will leave a message in case they are. I leave my name and number and Jim calls back quickly.
I tell him my offer and he quickly agrees – just as quickly he reneges, “Oh, I can’t tonight,” he says, “I don’t have any money.” I tell him I’m happy to buy him a coffee and we make a plan.
I go the to coffee shop and I wait. And wait. And wait.
Jim doesn’t show up. He doesn’t call. And that’s the end of the story.
But I don’t want it to be that end of the story. I want to hear from Jim. I want to hear about his life, his family. I want to know if depression caused his hard time at school or if school caused his hard time in life.
I want to help him. I want to tell him how sorry I am that he went through all that humiliation in school. I want to say that I’m sorry I didn’t know how to help him in school, that I wasn’t nicer, that I didn’t buy him a coffee when we met at the library.
I’m sorry Jim – no one deserves to live at the Salvation Army.
Everyone knows a Jim. What do you call yours?
This month, reach out to someone. Someone who is underserved. Someone who hasn’t had the same opportunities as you have had, someone who just needs a break, or a hug or a ticket to MoMonday.
Reach out to someone from your past, someone it’s time to forgive, someone who would be thrilled to hear from you.
That song quoted at the beginning of this article almost always brings a tear to my eye. It reminds me of the people in my life that I could have, should have been nicer to.
“One of these days you’re gonna love me. Sit down by yourself and think. About the times you pushed and shoved me. And what good friends we might have been. And then you’re gonna smile a little, maybe even cry a little. One of these days you’re gonna love me.”
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TOWARD A COMPASSIONATE WINNIPEG
Recently, a delegation from Winnipeg traveled to Louisville, Kentucky — in November 2012 and again in May 2013 — to learn how city leaders there began Compassionate Louisville. From schools to government, healthcare to policing, Louisville is proving that a lasting, positive impact is created when compassion informs the day-to-day life of a city.
Community News Commons encourages anyone to imagine what Winnipeg could become if we followed the lead of Louisville and made compassion an integral part of our community life.
Click on the links below to read other CNC articles on creating a compassionate Winnipeg:
Friendship blossoms for Sikhs, Mennonites in North Kildonan
Knowing more about others creates greater compassion
Compassion helps take back the streets
Golden Rule unites world religions
The hard work of living a compassionate life
Winnipeg encouraged to adopt Golden Rule
Delegation seeks compassion, will hear Dalai Lama speak
Winnipeg delegation looks to compassionate Louisville
Forum on compassion asks: Does Winnipeg care?
Is Winnipeg a compassionate city?
You can also type ‘compassion’ into the search bar at the top of this page for more stories on this subject.
