Jofacilitator

I like to find my inspiration in everyday life, through ordinary people doing extraordinary things, which then makes those people far from ordinary.

One person who has given me great inspiration and who makes me strive to be a better citizen is my Boss, my Neighbour, my Friend, Mary-Margaret McMahon.

My inspiration started when I realized how much the current City Councillor had done years before when she was an ordinary citizen.  On a big scale, with 2 young kids in tow, MMM was working to save the environment.  Ona smaller scale, she was working to make her community a better place.  She was involved in her children’s school .  She was involved in creating one of the best Resident’s Associations in Toronto, Danforth East Community Association (DECA) and was instrumental in starting a wonderful Farmer’s Market, that is still going strong today.

There are far too many accomplishments since winning her seat as Councillor to list.  But trust me, they are amazing.

But it is the accomplishments that this powerhouse neighbour, mother, friend did on her own that inspire me to be the best I can be in my community.

This is one of many stories from a wide variety of sources and a multitude of forms contributed by people upon request for my 70^th birthday.   They are posted without editing, with the attribution that was with them.  I will be posting these regularly until they run out next year sometime: if you have others to add, please send them to me.

Peter Taylor, Boston, USA, 19 November 2018

I am grateful for the influence of ICA Toronto. ICA has informed and inspired my running of events that affirm Ordinary-People-Making-a-Difference principles, especially: “There is insight in every response. We know more than we are, at first, prepared or able to acknowledge. When we are heard, we can better hear others and hear ourselves.” Here are two relevant stories; both about processes that followed the death of a family member.

Twenty years ago, at a wake for a family member who suicided, I took the opportunity to lead a go-around in which everyone said one thing they appreciated about the person and one thing they had difficulty with. Even the youngest relative there, a 9-year old, had clear things to say on both counts. Speaking and listening allowed us to acknowledge the ambiguity of losing someone whose mental health issues had challenged each of us: when and how do we stay involved and when do we step back and care for ourselves?

Three years ago, after my wife, Ann, died from ovarian cancer, we had a pot-luck party, which is what she had requested instead of a funeral. I asked guests to “introduce yourself to someone you don’t know and share what it meant to have Ann in your lives.” Each hour, starting at 11 in the morning and going into the evening, I rang a bell and for ten minutes people took turns to reflect or share a simple story “that captures how having Ann in your life has influenced you.” I had actually started this process nine months earlier so friends and family members could write when visits weren’t possible. But Ann thought the notes sounded like eulogies—“I am not dead yet!” was her retort—so I archived them on a private blog. After her death, I asked for permission to make the blog contributions public then added condolence notes and audio recordings from the party and two memorial events. At some point I wondered if blogs could be downloaded into a word file—yes. I realized the steady assembling of small contributions was adding up to material for a book. A few months later, audio recordings transcribed, cover and interior style designed by a former student, photos selected, and copies scanned of 14 years of letters Ann had written to a friend as young adults while they both worked to become writers (and etc.) became Ann(ie) Blum in Our Lives ( http://bit.ly/ABIOL2016).

At first, I called it a “memorial book” for Ann, but then I saw that the blog from which the book emerged was my way of allowing many people to have their voice. And for that voice to be one heard by a community, not only by the immediate family receiving the condolence notes. But why do people need to have their voice heard in a community? At first I thought I was giving recognition to the fact that many people were grieving Ann, not just me, her partner of 30 years.

But then I saw that the value of people having their voice heard in a community is that we—this includes me—have very partial narratives about what the loss of someone means for their lives. We say something—such as “I so miss her” or “Cancer sucks” or “I’m doing as well as can be expected”—but we know there’s more to what we are feeling. Things that are hard to articulate, things that are hard to know whether this is the person and the time to explore it with. So those things often get left un(der) explored; we just carry on. The book allowed, however, readers to bring their own thoughts to the surface through hearing the partial things others were able to say, to give voice to. And also to learn more, which adds to those thoughts. In that way, there is more play, more processing of what each reader wants to carry forward as part of their own lives.

Although these two stories revolve around deaths, they are also stories in which allowing everyone’s voices to be raised contributes to people making a difference to the life-direction-making of themselves and others.

Linda Evans got involved in organ donation efforts when her husband needed a transplant 10 years ago or he would die. The hospital he was in said they could not get him the organ he needed and he should write his will and make funeral arrangements . Rather than stand by and let that happen, Linda moved heaven and earth to find a viable alternative. Mayo Clinic in Florida gave Gary a second chance at life and the transplant was successful. Ever since that time, Linda has dedicated some of her efforts to enlisting people to donate organs so that no one ever has to go through what she and Gary did.

This is one of many stories from a wide variety of sources and a multitude of forms contributed by people upon request for my 70^th birthday.   They are posted without editing, with the attribution that was with them.  I will be posting these regularly until they run out next year sometime: if you have others to add, please send them to me.

This is a story one of my hospice clients told me.

She and her husband took in a young (around 7-8 yrs old) multi-racial boy.  He was around the age of her grandchildren, so she told him he was one of her grandsons.

She found out he was being made fun of and bullied on the school bus.   So the next day she escorted him to the school bus and got on with him.  She faced the children and said:  “hi kids (small town, they all knew her)—this is my grandson, Johnny (not real name).   Will you all be friends with him and include him in your games.”

No more problems.  A beautiful solution.

This is one of many stories from a wide variety of sources and a multitude of forms contributed by people upon request for my 70^th birthday.   They are posted without editing, with the attribution that was with them.  I will be posting these regularly until they run out next year sometime: if you have others to add, please send them to me.

One happened just this morning as I was driving my daughter to school. Marena is my 15 year old daughter and we were on our way to school and work, driving slowly on the icy roads after a major over night snow fall that continued through the day today. As we slowed to a real crawl we exclaimed ‘ok what the heck is the problem up there??!!’  It turned out to be a fellow in a Jeep that had spun around half way and hit the curb. He had one tire on the curb and was trying to back up. Both our lanes of traffic stopped and gave him plenty of room to try and back up on his own. It appeared he wasn’t going to get very far as his wheels were spinning. Marena and I watched this unfold, and I said ‘oh someone just needs to give him a little push’ and just like that, a fellow who was walking down the street toward the bus stop began pushing. Soon another fellow joined him and the Jeep was back on the road, heading the correct direction, and everyone was on the move again slowly and carefully. Marena and I cheered and she said to me, ‘Mom, I love Canada!  That was the most Canadian thing I have ever seen!’  This warmed our hearts today – and it was SO simple!!!

The other story I have is from the most recent Facilitation exercise I have been involved with. Our Unit is part of the process design and facilitation of the Alberta PDD Review (persons with developmental disabilities). Meaning that we are going around the province with the Panel (independent people appointed by the Minister) to review the PDD program, listen to stakeholders and draft recommendations for improving the PDD system (engagement sessions are being held all across the province for the month of November and into December; we are talking with service providers, parents/caregivers, government workers and people who are PDD recipients and as such have developmental disabilities. We planned a process that can work for listening to all these groups). Anyhow, the other day while in one of the rural Alberta communities, there was a fellow who receives PDD assistance from the province who attended one of our sessions. He was SO thrilled with the opportunity to share his ideas. He engaged in each and every activity we had designed to make sure that his voice was heard. And his special idea that he emphasized throughout the process was: ‘talk to me. I have ideas. We all need to work together. And people just want their needs to be met.’  There was no more powerful input than that in all the people within the system. This said it all and said everything. From someone who receives the PDD program assistance. Now we just need to make that simple request happen – listen to the people and meet their needs. That’s all. 

My favourite person these years is Kenny Furlong, Carson City and County Nevada Sheriff. This man goes way beyond his official duties to assist whomever and wherever he is needed.  Kenny, as he is known by all, loves his hometown and knows its gifts and problems, and it shows.

Here are some examples:  Kenny shows up at Pioneer High to learn the names and encourage these alternative students to strive for heir goals, and he is always there at their graduation.  He does the same for the Capitol City C.i.R.C.L.E.S. Inititave, which is “Building Self-Sufficiency, One Family at a Time”.  And, I have encountered Kenny late at night checking on the volunteers who are sheltering the homeless in their churches during the winter.

For many years Carson City citizens have been attending the Sheriff’s Academy, a ten-week course which is held once or twice a year.  The mission is to keep the sheriff’s office transparent and bring personal and community safety awareness to the fore.

Kenny is very approachable for anyone to bring a complaint or suggestion.  One goal has been finding alternative places for the mentally ill rather than the jail.  Concerned social and medical groups worked with him over several years, and now we have a new behavioral crisis center.

This year Kenny brought in an expert on working with female inmates to assist the whole Sheriff’s Department to better understand the disparity between men and women when confronted by the law.  The instructor gave stories from her practice of the kinds of abuse and desperation the women have had.  She answered the deputies’ questions, such as what helps to calm the situation when a woman must be arrested.

These are just some of the examples that I know about my friend, who, by the way, is a Republican.

This is one of many stories from a wide variety of sources and a multitude of forms contributed by people upon request for my 70^th birthday.   They are posted without editing, with the attribution that was with them.  I will be posting these regularly until they run out next year sometime: if you have others to add, please send them to me.

The Paradise (CA) girls’ volleyball team had a championship game set for Saturday, the 10th, but had lost all of their uniforms and equipment in the fire. The girls said they still wanted to attend the game up in Auburn, CA regardless of not having the proper equipment.

Upon arrival, the opposing Auburn team had made each of the girls uniforms, purchased them new shoes and pads! Not only that, they made them a meal after the game, provided each girl with a $300 gift card, gave each girl a large bag of supplies and clothing. Then they presented the team with $16,000 they had raised for them!!!

This is one of many stories from a wide variety of sources and a multitude of forms contributed by people upon request for my 70^th birthday.   They are posted without editing, with the attribution that was with them.  I will be posting these regularly until they run out next year sometime: if you have others to add, please send them to me.

Nunavut

Inuit students are learning how to monitor climate shifts in their homeland.  They work with researchers over a number of years to see the change in ………. Over a number of years.  They are learning skills they can use in jobs in the future.

Cape Town – a very segregated city

Young people are taking children from a very poor black housing district to the beach and ocean.  They are teaching them to surf and swim.  Most of these students have never been out of their community and have never been by the ocean or downtown Cape Town.  Opens up vision of future possibilities and learn new skllls.

Brazil – Amazon

Young adults becoming caretakers of the UNESCO Reserve (huge area) – They patrol waters and there are special projects by young veterinarians to care for endangered species.

South Africa – remote corners

Wildlife census  with loads of live cameras, citizen scientists around the world – students etc. are analyzing videos to learn about the large animals in particular habitats

This is is one of many stories from a wide variety of sources and a multitude of forms contributed by people upon request for my 70^th birthday.   They are posted without editing, with the attribution that was with them.  I will be posting these regularly until they run out next year sometime: if you have others to add, please send them to me.

A Taste of Ecuador or should I say Ecuadorians

I want to share a bit about my experience in Ecuador, a few things that seem to capture the spirit of the people, the country. There are many more I could easily add.

Acts of Kindness

Yesterday, a bit weakened from a flu bug, I lugged a 50 lb suitcase up the street to a corner where it was easier to get a taxi. My goal was to put a few things in my new apartment that would make it more like a Jane home. Taxis were busy but it taken me too long to flag one down. The taxi driver opens his trunk but was positioned in a way he couldn’t easily get out of the cab to help me. I go to put the behemoth into the trunk when a man appears to help. He was standing by the corner tiende just behind me, someone I had not  noticed. He puts the suitcase in the trunk, smiles at me and goes back to the tienda. No request on my part. No looking totally helpless. Just an observant Ecuadorian aware that I needed help and graciously giving it. 

When I get to my apartment, the taxi stops and the rather old taxi driver gets out and takes my suitcase out before I could do it. As he does, the guard at the gate of the apartment unlocks the gate and comes out and gets the suitcase. He walks me into the apartment to the elevator and makes certain that I know how to get to my apartment, “Seis Say” or 6 C. 

Shortly after I get into the apartment, open the windows and begin to unpack the suitcase, the doorbell rings. Such a thrill to hear my doorbell ring. It was the man mopping the building entrance floor. He is in charge of building maintenance. He introduced himself. I invited him in. He checked to make certain the gas in the stove was working and that I knew how to use the stove (not an easy thing) and then he checked to make certain that I had water in the apartment, particularly hot water. He left letting me know to contact him if I needed him. 

In the midst of the craziness and divisiveness in the US, I was grateful for so many simple acts of kindness I experienced in just one morning in Cuenca, Ecuador. I think I will like my new home. 

This is one of many stories from a wide variety of sources and a multitude of forms contributed by people upon request for my 70^th birthday.   They are posted without editing, with the attribution that was with them.  I will be posting these regularly until they run out next year sometime: if you have others to add, please send them to me.