| Inuk ShUK 5 xcs: M, father has been a doctor all his life. Why have none of his sons followed in his footsteps? I cannot speak for my brothers, but | am a coward when it comes to pain. As a child the mere thought of the pinprick of a needle sent me into hysterics. My dad, the hero, was always saving lives. Once, while working a hospital shift, a six-year-old child had a hemorrhage and was bleeding to death after a tonsil operation. My father plunged a scalpel into the child’s chest, broke open his ribs and massaged the child’s heart with his bare bloody hands. Unfortunately, the child died. An article was written in a newspaper about my father’s “heroic measures” to rescue the child’s life. Unfortunately, heroes are not invincible. My father was diagnosed with the double whammy of Parkinson’s disease and major depression. His depression became so bad he felt suicidal. I accompanied my father as he admitted himself to Saint Paul’s Hospital’s psychiatric ward, a place I, myself, would eventually visit more times than I care to remember. Walking down the antiseptic, fluorescent-lit hospital corridors for ECT (Electro Convulsive Therapy), I felt him shake as he reassured me that electric shock treatment will help his depression. “It’s not as barbaric as the movies make it out to be.” It’s as if he was being led to the electric chair and upon sitting, saying, “Hmmm, it’s quite comfortable.” My dad was strapped down, teeth gritting the bit so he would not bite off his tongue. My father, a human lightning rod, was struck by a thunderbolt from God. 1000 kilowatts of electricity jolted through his 40-watt body. After his treatment, the doctor complimented him callously: “You had one hell of an impressive convulsion.” After his ECT, my father and I walked in silence to English Bay. We approached the Inuk Shuk monument: granite slabs of rock arranged to form a mighty statue of a man. It towered over us, arms outstretched embracing Mother Sea in her immensity. Everyone has a threshold of suffering. How much pain can a person endure? As a child the mere mention of the pinprick of a needle sent me into hysterics. I am no longer a child, and I have endured my fair quota of suffering, but my greatest pain was witnessing helplessly as my father endured the merciless onslaught of Parkinson’s. Over time, I have witnessed his body harden, as rigor mortis made him stiff as granite rock. Yet, he embraces life, not unlike the Inuk Shuk that act as a direction marker, a beacon of hope to those who are lost on the vast, featureless tundra. With arms outstretched, he embraces life braving the elements as time slowly erodes his body away. I stood next to my father, looking out into the sea on that cold gray day in English Bay, the wind and rain pelting our faces. What consolation, what words of succor could I say, except, “Father, you are not alone.” The Inuk Shuk of English Bay Where’s our community gone? So. recently I met someone at work (to put this in perspective I live in Burnaby, but I work in Downtown Vancouver). Anyways, it turns out this guy and I went to the same high school, same College... oh, and we live four bloody blocks away from each other to boot! So, my question is, are we so self-absorbed that we don’t notice the people around us anymore? Yes, we bloody are. I mean, I should have met this guy at school, (either one of them), or on a walk, or a jog. I mean, I walk home sometimes, and walk not too far from where he lives. What the hell! And this isn’t isolated to one or two years, but has been going on for almost a decade! It shouldn’t take getting a job in some distant place, or having to walk on the same carpet in a wide open space for a few days just to bloody well get to know my neighbours, the people who are a part of my community! We’re too focused on what we are doing that we don’t even focus on our own communities anymore, on the people around us. Which makes me wonder, if I was in trouble, could I turn to a neighbour? The sad reality is that I can’t. I don’t really know most of the people in my area, so how could I ask for help? And everyone has tough times now and then. In the past, it’s always been that helping hand of a friend or neighbour that comes through—like when the family next door lost their home, the community would help shelter them until they got back on their feet. Or, if someone in the area was starving, they would give them a can of soup. Or, if they were cold, they would gladly hand them a blanket or a sweater. As much as the community could give to them, they would. Why in the hell don’t we do that anymore? We see a neighbour in trouble and we close the bloody blinds and bolt the damn door! This is the exact opposite of what our parents would have done. We’ve been led astray because of a selfish compulsion to put ourselves before others and that’s something that I know I even have to improve upon. Whether you are looking just for someone to chill out with at work, a friend, or hell, just for survival’s sake, there are great reasons to get to know your neighbours. Life might be great at the moment, but as we have seen recently, times change. No job is safe as the economy collapses, as we even read in The Other Press recently wrote about a student that was laid off from their job because of the current crisis. So, we might need that shelter! We Matthew Steinbach Opinions Editor might need that soup! We might need that blanket! The next time you see a neighbour, say hi, ask them how they are doing and if they need help, help them. They might just return the favour when you need it the most.