Tuesday, March 1, 2016

We're Not Alone

I watch. I listen. I smile sometimes, groan inside at other times. And I feel. You can’t help but feel. Gut churning, most of it.

Blogs Guide Magazine

I’m sitting in one of Alberta’s traffic courts, and the lives I’m listening to are messy. Mostly, messiness of their own making, but some just didn’t catch a break.

Like the pipefitter. He tells the court that his wife died three years ago. He has five kids, all under twelve. He managed for a while with a nanny and parents, but then he lost his job because of the economy. He let the insurance on his car lapse because he couldn’t afford it and got caught. Smart? No. But heartbreaking.

I listen to more messy lives as I wait my turn. It takes my thoughts away from my own really stupid thing. And it allows me to reflect. I’m struck by my vulnerability. I’m usually confident, but I’m at the complete whim of the judge. All of us sitting here are. “Dirk Heenan?” calls the clerk.

Must be me. I stand up. My legs feel like rubber.

“It’s Heinen, ma’am. Long ‘i.’ ”

I had passed an emergency vehicle with its lights on in the inside lane at 123 kph. The 110 speed limit is 60 when passing in the lane immediately next to an emergency vehicle on the QEII highway in Alberta. I was oblivious to having done so until I saw the flashing lights in my rear-view mirror. I had been so deep in thought and conversation that I never noticed the officer on the side of the road.

That’s not an excuse. I should have been paying attention. What I did was stupid and life threatening.

The judge is not happy. I was scheduled to appear three weeks earlier, but on advice from the prosecutor’s office—bad advice—I had requested to appear on another day because I had meetings in Mississauga, Ontario, that day. He had issued a warrant for my arrest and quashed it when I appeared.

“What makes you think your work is more important than appearing in court?” the judge snarls.

I have no easy answer. Life is hard sometimes and unfortunately, wittingly or unwittingly, we often make it harder for ourselves. We all do things that we know we shouldn’t do, and we fail to do the things we should do. That is the human condition.

In this room of unfortunates, we all feel the same way—scared by our vulnerability. Our fate is not in our own hands. Someone is going to do the deciding for us. But at least we’re not alone. What had started as watching and listening to each other became an expression of solidarity.

I think of the pipefitter. I don’t know if he’s a union member or not. He’s been laid off as have many workers in Alberta, including many Local 63 members.

I realize that one of the great things about being part of a union is that we’re not alone. As a union, we can’t fix the economy, change the price of oil, or guarantee everyone a job. But there’s a lot of other things we can do to help those laid off because of the collapse of the energy market.

We can provide training for re-employment. We can work with governments to ensure a strong safety net. We can provide employee and family assistance plans to help those struggling to cope. We can help connect workers to jobs that become available.

We can listen. We can encourage. Whether we create them or whether we are victims, we can help each other get through the messy moments of our lives.

We're Not Alone

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