Yesterday I was interviewed about indigenous racism here.  The conversation delved into many nuances of our community experience, but I focused on our wealth, culturally and socially, and the context of our struggling post mill-town economy. What mill taxes paid for is now in our laps. Painful. Sustainable? Many think not. What do we do?  Work together.  Figure it out, together, and then do what we must. 

Right after that I ran into a friend and mentioned this conversation to her.  I immediately discovered she’s quite intolerant. An aunt of hers committed suicide. Yes, it was in residential school.  She was 10. I’ve known her for years, but I didn’t know she was indigenous. It was a shock. Partly because I have one of those memories; of a young teen girl. Three paramedics working frantically, clinging to hope that our intervention would work as I drove that ambulance far faster than I should have down the highway from that school washroom to a hospital. We didn’t save her. Very hard to reconcile. Memories we live with.  Painful.

I’ve recently seen that scalable perspective helps me grasp the pain of daily life. Imbalances way up the chain in our society are the same as the ones we see on our streets. Only the scale is different. Also, there is an “enough floor”.  Most of us are used to having more than enough, maybe just enough, but when you don’t, survival is all that’s left. Grim. Perhaps almost more painful to watch than to be in? Because when you’re just surviving, you’re not contributing much to your community. Don’t we all want to contribute at least something? It’s central to purpose in life.

It brings me back to our town. Here we are, a community used to reasonably comfortable living, good community assets, from mill taxes and wages. Assets need to be maintained, and operation costs rise and rise.  One of the most expensive is also the most popular according to community feedback this spring; the pool. I’m pointing to a big question city councils have struggled with for years. Uncomfortable. How often is pain what we have in common?

I have memories, feelings I must reconcile when I’m confronted by painful stuff. I’m thankful I can. Our memories and experiences are different, even if they’re inherited. How many of us don’t have them? Any of us? Yes, pain we have in common, and challenges. And also, wealth, socially and culturally. We can work together on it all.