I've enjoyed getting to know some of the characters in my neighbourhood. I think its important, on various levels -- a daily reality check being perhaps the most powerful. There are many people living around me who face much more difficult challenges on a day-to-day basis then I ever do, and I try to be sympathetic to their histories and broader cultural challenges that have landed them here in The West End.
For example, I've befriended Barry who squeegee's car windows with much comedy at the corner of Maryland & Portage. We share a chuckle every now and then, and I'll often pick him up a coffee or bagel. He's a good guy. The cops harass him needlessly (there are far more serious things going on around the corner that could use their attention), and I once had a squad car chase me down after I flipped them the bird for sitting in the Shell station parking lot (idling their car no less) just watching Barry. For fuck's sake guys.
There are also the two groups of children often found playing in my back lane. One, full of elementary boys, is constantly breaking bottles or rocking the dumpsters and generally getting up to no good. The other, a family with children young through teens, plays tag and hide & seek. I wonder what each group's home life is like? Their differences in behaviour is astounding.
...
Tonight, Patrick & I were walking downtown along Portage Ave after rehearsal. There were a good number of people out, and the bars seemed active. A good sign for a Thursday night. As we passed the APTN building a man sitting on the concrete bench said "Excuse me...". I kept on walking, as I didn't feel the desire to talk to a homeless guy tonight. There was lots of that on the weekend in The Exchange, and I was enjoying my conversation and didn't want to be bothered.
But I looked over and Patrick was gone. He had stopped back at the man who had patiently waited for his attention. Patrick was giving him the space to speak, himself patiently letting the conversation begin. Neither of us had any change, but Pat gave him a cigarette, and then asked him his name.
"Philip. What is yours?"
"Patrick."
"Thank you for treating me with respect. Nobody treated me with respect today."
"I'm very sorry to hear that."
They continued on for a bit. I introduced myself and we shook hands. And as we were about to leave, Philip paused and looked at his feet for a few seconds and then looked up at us and said,
"Please pray for me."
...
It was a powerful moment. And while neither Patrick or I subscribe to any formal deity or religion per se, the implications of the request were not lost on us. And for the rest of the walk home I thought about Philip and the life he may or may not have lead and wondering how he ended up here, at 11 pm on Portage Avenue, in Winnipeg, asking my friend and I for not just change, but for compassion and grace.
A vital reminder about the humanity we are surrounded by and the way we relate to those on the fringes of our society.
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