Community? What is it good for?
You are part of a community and the sum of the parts is greater than the whole (photo: oneeyeland.com)
As published in Northumberland Today
Community is a grand word. It’s ubiquitous, universal and everyone innately knows what it means. At first blush, it’s a place, a place we know well, but on deeper reflection it feels more like a personal bond than a place and it’s rooted more in the heart than a particular street or building or social group. It’s about belonging. It’s comfort, caring, connectivity, pride. It’s a good place, except when it’s in decline.
Across North America, for the last third of the twentieth century, the fabric of our communities has become frayed and faded as we’ve disconnected from them, and from each other. Most of us have experienced it, and as Robert Putnam says in his book, Better Together, the decline is evident in church attendance, PTA participation, union relations, club memberships, volunteer work, political engagement and, of course, less time with friends and family. And it’s evident in the exodus of youth, the influx of drugs, the uptick of homeless and the down tick of meaning––does “have a nice day” really mean anything anymore? We are consumed by consumption and buried in production, working more, giving less, joining less, voting less, trusting less, living less. By most measures, our happiness and satisfaction has declined and our sense of place is lost in the incessant churn of daily life. Today, we inhabit a community but we don’t belong to it. And yet, our need for community has never been greater. According to a study entitled, The Place and Happiness Survey, conducted by Richard Florida of the University of Toronto, “The place we live is the third leg in the triangle of our well-being, alongside our personal relationships and our work.” In other words, community matters more than we realize and it is at the heart of both our personal growth and the well being of our community. And yet, we have let this critical piece in life’s puzzle slip away from us.
Most communities have lost their compass, if not their moral compass certainly their social and political compass. Social in terms of our connection with the community and political relative to our “social contract” with government, which was lost a long time ago. The 18th century philosopher and father of the social contract, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, posited that government is only as strong as the people, and his thinking influenced a revolution. Perhaps a little more of that thinking, today, could help reconnect our community. “We the people” is supposed to mean something but only if “we” do something. A passive, uninterested, unengaged “people” is not only unfortunate, it’s at the core of community decline, vacuous leadership and political apathy and incompetence. Make no mistake, there are people doing things for the community – many – but it’s a handful compared to the dumpster load of people doing nothing.
If most of us are uninvolved inhabitants, then it raises a question similar to the one Edwin Starr raised in his 1960s song protesting the Vietnam War: “War … what is it good for? … Absolutely nothing!” Has our community come to this? Community … what is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Ponder that question. Then ask: Do you feel connected to your community? Do you know what’s going on? Do you care? Here’s a mini-straw poll:
- Do you know what the plans are to revitalize your community – if any?
- Do you know the details of at least two major issues facing your municipal government (in Toronto, the Rob Ford fiasco does not count)?
- Do you know approximately how many homeless people are in your community?
- Are you a member of a Ratepayers Association?
If you answered, “yes” 4 of 4, you’re connected. 2 of 4, you’re half-connected. 1 of 4, you’re something less than a half-ass connected. And if you answered nothing in the affirmative, you flunked Community 101, and are likely sitting on the sidelines watching the inherent decline in your community. Think about it.
“People are the worst”
Coming 2026
My personal history is the stuff they write books about. And that's what I am doing. The working title, "Chains of My Father: Marry White."
"The ghostly image of the tragic mulatto trapped between two worlds." - Barack Obama
This perspicacious line from the Prologue of Barack Obama's "Dream from My Father" wrenched my aspiration into action. I started writing, furiously. Unlike Obama's perspective, my pain had been for the opposite reason: I was not seen by whites as a "tragic mulatto," rather I lived every day of my childhood hoping whites were not "searching my eyes for some telltale sign" that I WAS mulatto. This is my story.
It's historical fiction because I cannot find enough records to substantiate all facets of the story. I've combed the genealogy, traveled to my father and grandmothers' birthplace, walked the graveyards, searched the churches and ... well, all the facts aren't there. I have written three books based on the genealogy of other families but my ancestors emerged from a journey that left too few records – slavery.
My paternal, great grandmother was a "freed slave." My grandmother, Amelia, was born to a mixed race slave named Mary (we do not know her last name) and a white, French plantation owner, the Count de Poullain, in Grenada, West Indies. Amelia was raised in the "Big House" and in adulthood, in an attempt to escape her black heritage disowned her mother, telling her, "Get out and never come back." Amelia, as a mother of twelve children, enshrined into the family commandments, "Marry white." Many did, including my father. My mother was a lovely, white, Anglo-Saxon protestant born in England. They met in Canada where my dad studied and became a doctor.
It has taken five generations for the descendants of Mary to free themselves from the stigma of their black heritage but today my children embrace it. Unfortunately, the past 250 years have been a wasteland of bigotry, racism and bullying. But, on closer look, we see not only the brutality, fear, violence, and murder but also the self-respect, dignity, love, kindness, perseverance and indomitable spirit.
As of the spring of 2025, the depth of historic perspective and the sweeping inspiration of oppressed people has created a two-volume duology of which I have only arrived at the middle of the 19th century. 1840 is the year my great grandfather was born, the beginning of Volume II, and he's pushing me to make sure our story is published by the summer of 2026.
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