Help, and Hope

Just when you think humanity is headed down a deep hole in the ground, some anonymous angel comes along, and hands a remote northern community an enormous wad of cash to save the lives of their children.

Earlier this month, media reported that two beautiful 12-year-old girls in Wapekeka First Nation, Ontario, had taken their own lives. The young people here are at extreme risk for suicide, and the community had already submitted a request to Health Canada to fund urgently-needed mental health services. Specifically, they’d asked for 376,706.

At the time, they were told the money wasn’t immediately available – it had all been allocated to other projects. Their file would remain active while the government figured out how to fund it.

While the community waited, these two children died.

Emergency government support is now promised. But in the meantime, an unidentified soul has stepped forward with $30,000 in hand, and an I.O.U. for the rest of the almost $380,000 that’s needed.

The money won’t bring back Jolynn or Chantel, but hopefully it comes in time to save dozens of other young people. Help and healing can start.

Humanity to the rescue.

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Only Sometimes Inspiring

I’m a fan of the TV show Speechless. The fact is, I was hooked from the pilot episode. This is probably the first time I’ve been treated to a prime-time sitcom that tells the truth about family life with a disability. When I say “telling the truth,” I don’t mean hiring able-bodied actors to pretend they know what it’s like (chances are, they don’t) to be blind or have a speech disorder or use a wheelchair, and exploiting stereotypes that further marginalize a group of people. (Here’s me giving you the side-eye, Glee creators.)

In one recent episode of Speechless, JJ – the character with a disability who is played by an actual actor with a disability – complains about “inspiration porn.” When another character asks what that means, JJ’s TV brother pipes up: “It’s a portrayal of people with disabilities as one-dimensional saints who only exist to warm the hearts and open the minds of able-bodied people.” That may sound preachy, but it’s made funny because it’s delivered in a sardonic tone by a teenager who has this dictionary definition of inspiration porn so well-rehearsed that he manages to explain it in six seconds flat. In other words, this TV family (and, by extension, everyone in audienceland living with a disability) has confronted it a bazillion times before.

Does that mean people with disabilities can never be inspiring? No. All it means is that they shouldn’t be portrayed as heroes simply because they took a breath today, and then another one and then another one after that. In my view, people are inspiring when they do or say amazing things in front of people who do not do or say those things. It’s not amazing, for example, that someone went to school today or chaired a business meeting or put on pants. Why put him or her on a pedestal just for living a normal life?

This weekend, I saw actual inspiration. I was at a disability-themed trade show filled with displays of wheelchair accessories and sports equipment and modified vans. Naturally, there were heaps of individuals with disabilities in the building. So it wasn’t unexpected to overhear a conversation between two of them while I washed my hands in the ladies’ room.

Both women were wheelchair users. Both were beautiful, stylishly dressed and with impeccable make-up. One was in her 30s, however, while the other was only about 20 and with her mom. From the way they spoke, it was clear that the younger woman was fairly new at disability. And it didn’t take long to realize that the older one was taking the time to educate and encourage her. “You can’t dwell on it, you have to go on with living your life,” the older one (who we’ll call Mentor) said. “That’s so true,” said Protégé, nodding vigorously. “Don’t limit yourself,” Mentor said. “Oh, I like that one,” Protégé’s mom piped up.

The women were all smiles, clearly delighted to be having this conversation. And why not? Mentor was taking the opportunity to make a difference. We all know how great that feels. Protégé was getting the chance to chat up a role model. Maybe she hadn’t, yet, been able to meet that many of them.

Mentor was inspiring. Protégé was inspired.

And that, in my opinion, is how inspiration works.

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Photo by Photokanok / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Do Deep Pockets Mean Big Donations?

You might assume that wealthy people are tremendously generous with their donor dollars. After all, they have a lot to spare. Plus we have absolute evidence of their munificence, with all those renamed hospital wings and university buildings and such to prove it.

But being rich doesn’t necessarily make you open-handed. In fact, on average, those who are swimming in it (P.S. not me – I don’t even own water wings!) can actually be a tad stingy. One analysis of income tax returns in the U.S. found that people who earned $100,000 and up donated only 4.2% of their discretionary income to charity, while middle-class earners gave 7.6%.

A new study at the University of British Columbia has now found that if you want rich people to up their donation game, you have to craft the charitable appeal accordingly. Wealthy peeps seem to enjoy donating when they’re made to feel like a bit of a hero, singlehandedly saving the world. Less affluent folks, on the other hand, will have their heartstrings surely tugged when they feel as though we’re all pulling together to make a difference as a community.

I won’t judge. I’m just the messenger. But if you run a charity for a good cause and you’re planning a donor campaign soon, you should probably be taking notes right now.

And if you’re considering giving to charity: Well, we know that donating money to help others can improve our own well-being. We gain both mood and health benefits. So whether you’re loaded with cash or working hard to make ends meet or somewhere in between: seriously, consider a few dollars in a kind direction. You’ll reap a few rewards, too.

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Yes, all you non-Canadian readers, this is indeed what our paper money looks like here. I like to think it reflects our colourful personalities.

What You Read in 2016

Happy January. And welcome back to reality if, like me, you’re just coming off some vacation days, and still blinking the sleep out of your eyes.

Here at 50 Good Deeds, this is the time of the year when we ponder the most popular posts of the previous year (sorry if I accidentally spit in your eye with that highly alliterative sentence). Then we consider the broader meaning, what it says about our world today, and where we’re headed. We spend at least four minutes on that.

The two top stories of 2016 were favoured for, I think, very different reasons. The most-read tale, “Stem Cell Saviour,” told of saving a life with a transplant. The stem-cell donor from Germany and the transplant recipient from Canada seized an opportunity to meet on common ground, and had a fun-filled, joyful visit. It didn’t hurt that the two stars of the story both happened to be highly photogenic. The bloom of good health will do that to you.

The second-most-read post, on the other hand, was bittersweet. “Send Hugs. They Help” shared new research showing that when we share our problems on social media, it tends to elicit supportive, emotional, lengthy comments and messages from our friends – a lot more so than if we’re posting about, say, our recent success in finding the perfect off-off-white paint colour to complement our off-off-off-white upholstery. These messages of support can be a great comfort, surrounding us with care.

I call this story bittersweet because it was dedicated to a little boy whose precious life was abruptly, tragically lost after someone made a sloppy mistake. His family was shattered, but his mom took the time to write: “Every text, [Facebook] message and phone call reminds you that there is light outside of the darkness that exists in our life at the moment.”

What do these two posts have in common – why did you find these both so engaging? The only connection I can draw is that, well, they were about connections. People reaching out to other people. Caring, giving, helping, rescuing. That’s what we do, isn’t it? It’s part of being human.

Let’s continue to be very human in 2017.

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Photo by David Castillo Dominici (FreeDigitalPhotos.net)

 

 

End of the Year, Beginning of the Rest of the World

I’ll be on blog-holiday for the next couple of weeks, enjoying time with family, friends and feasts. But I plan to leave you with an abundance of rich, high-calorie stories. We don’t want you starving for good news.

First, there’s this tale about the new guy in town, who unexpectedly discovered that the next-door neighbours are alive only because he himself saved them 65 years ago. Ed Malone, known as Kip, ran into a burning house when he was 12 years old and pulled out two little girls. That was in St. John’s, Newfoundland. He never forgot, and always wondered what had happened to them. He had to wait until 2016 to find out. But the sisters living next door to his new house in the community of Conception Bay South were only too happy to fill him in – once they got over the shock of the coincidence – and thank him profusely, as they couldn’t have done when they were three and five years old. (They didn’t recognize each other, but they recognized each other’s life stories – and the rest fell into place.) “I feel so blessed,” said one of the sisters, Barbara Earle, in a news story. “If it wasn’t for Kip, I wouldn’t be here today and have the beautiful, wonderful life and family that I have.”

Next I have the story of a girls’ hockey team in Eabametoong First Nation. The whole team is all smiles because up to now, they hadn’t been able to afford hockey equipment – it’s expensive, isn’t stocked in the local general store, and must be flown in to their remote northern-Ontario community. Thanks to a grade-12 class assignment in Markham, Ontario, they’re now fully outfitted and ready to take to the ice. This happened because Emma Tworzyanski, 17, had to pick a project for her sports management class. A hockey player herself, she chose to collect donated equipment and ship it to the girls in Eabametoong, where her dad often travels to work as an engineer. “I thought it was the perfect opportunity to use my passion [for hockey] to help other people,” she said in a report. As for the excited girls, they can’t wait to take to the ice with their new equipment and show the world what they’re made of.

Got time for one more? Of course you do, it’s the holidays. Marc Carter, a dad in Devon, England, is counting as his hero a particular factory manager in China. Marc’s 14-year-old son, Ben, has autism, and will only drink from a very specific blue sippy cup. In fact, Ben will risk dehydration before he’ll drink from anything else. He’s had the cup since he was two, so naturally it’s falling apart. Problem is, the cup is no longer made. Marc put an appeal out to the cyberuniverse and it reached Li Jieying, an associate of the company that used to make the cup. She took it upon herself to search her factory for molds, materials and supplier information so that the cup could be remade to exact specifications. “We think it is very meaningful for us to help,” she told a reporter. The company manufactured a special run of 500 cups just for Ben. At 12 years per cup – heck, let’s even say 10 years, since he probably has more teeth now than he did when he was two – Ben has enough blue cups to last him to the ripe old age of 5,000. His grateful dad has now created a website, littlebluecup.org, where he hopes to help other families in need.

There’s a whole lot of goodness in a world that sometimes bludgeons us with bad news. We have to remember that. So keep your arms open, your hearts and minds too, and continue spreading the love. Happy New Year.

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See all you sweethearts in 2017. (Photo by graphixchon / FreeDigitalPhotos.net)

Someone’s up to Snow Good

The first snowstorm of the season is a bit like a semi-annual dental cleaning. You know it’s coming and you don’t necessarily look forward to it, but you gird yourself and get through it all the same.

Here in Toronto, our winter’s first storm started Sunday night, and by yesterday morning we had 15 cm of the stuff to clear away. Temperatures hovered around zero because, after all, this is The Six, where the snow that piles up is less often light and fluffy, and more often slushy, joyless and stone-heavy, such that the left side of your chest almost shrieks out loud with every shovelful. I struggled to clear our walkways, but the extra-wide driveway was out of the question.

Since no one has yet invented a snow plow that attaches to my husband’s power wheelchair – as far as he’s concerned, it would have to be one that comes with a domed, self-heated enclosure and a little cup holder for his hot tea, and perhaps the documentary channel on surround-sound while he’s at it – I am the one stuck with the shoveling. And by stuck, I mean that I reach a point where my shovel is left stuck in a snowbank, and I’m back in the house trying to catch my breath.

But like I said, the temperature was rising, and by the time I took the dog out at midday, a quick glance towards the driveway as I left the house suggested to me that the snow had almost completely disappeared. Melted away, or so I thought. It wasn’t until I returned from the walk and grabbed a shovel to finish the clean-up that I realized the snow hadn’t melted at all. Rather, it had been vigorously cleared away, at some point in the morning, by some nameless neighbour.

Again.

It happens every year. The snow falls hard, I struggle to clear us out, someone comes along and lightens my load.

And here’s the thing. I don’t have a clue who to thank. There are so many kind souls around here that, in winter weather, I can’t even be sure who did what good deed. Which is probably why I write about this every year.

The weather is cold, but our hearts are warmed.

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Chronic Care

Stephen Wheeler lived with lung cancer for five years before he died. The manufacturing specialist in Rochester, New York, was not known as an extrovert. On the contrary, he was considered shy. But when his family contacted the administrators of his online cancer forum and notified them of Stephen’s death, they got a surprise: 1,000 pages of printouts from his many online discussions, which the administrators prepared for them. As the family learned, Stephen in fact had a lot to say (although he said it as “Ex Rocker,” his forum username).

As Stephen’s wife and two daughters read through the transcripts, they began to realize just what an impact he’d had on other people coping with cancer. His words gave insights, advice and even inspiration. He reached people, and he touched them. He’d had over 100 followers on the forum, plus direct contact from members who sought his guidance – or simply to meet him in person.

One of his fans posted this comment on Stephen’s obituary page: “Some of your words of wisdom will stay with me forever. Sometimes we never know what a difference we make in other people’s lives. I felt moved to write this so that your family and loved ones would know how very far your influence spread, and how you had changed lives.”

Stephen’s daughters are grateful to have this legacy of printouts. They say their dad’s voice shines through. It must feel as though they’ve kept a part of him alive.

“He didn’t feel like he did as much for humanity as he might have liked,” his wife commented in a Stat Magazine article. “If he’d seen the outpouring from people after he died, it’d have bowled him over completely.” Stephen wanted to leave the world a better place. It certainly appears that he did that, in spades.

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The online follower ended his tribute with: “Rest in peace, Stephen Wheeler, Ex Rocker. And most of all, thank you.” (Freeimages.com / Marcin Farbotko)