A Better Tomorrow

Get out we don’t need you anymore

Published

6 years ago

November 14, 2018

BY: KATHY MCDONALD

I was still basking in the afterglow of being re-elected by a huge margin as the Peel District School Board Trustee for Wards 3 and 4 in Brampton when my doorbell rang. I was deeply disturbed to find a senior who came to me in tears looking for somewhere to live. It appears that after asking this elderly lady to quit her job up north to take care of her grandchildren she is no longer need. You see they are now 12 and 8 years old and her services are no longer required. If I was not advocating for our youth and their education I would be advocating for the elderly. So, I am using this medium to educate seniors about their rights and elder abuse.

In Peel, we have an organization called Elder Help Peel. It’s located on 6 George Street. Elder Help Peel states on its website that it “Enriches the lives of Elderly Peel residents by offering information, education and supportive services in a welcoming and inclusive environment” At the heart of the organization is a stalwart of the black community Roman Aman. They can be reached by telephone at 905-457-6055 Monday through Friday from 9 am to 4 pm. This nonprofit organization is a true gem in the Brampton community.

While I was doing research on how to help this individual I came across an essay by my eldest son that I would like to share with the hope that we are reminded about the importance of family. I encourage all young people to remember all the sacrifices that your parents made for you when you were young. Please don’t turn your back on them when they are old.

“The family is the foundation of existence. It is the family that keeps an individual grounded and real. A strong family offers support and love through all stages of life. Without my family, my life would be incomplete. Although one receives schooling during the day, it’s family who prepares you for the journey of life along which I learned that no one can make you inferior without your consent (Eleanor Roosevelt). The family motto, black letters standing boldly against the yellow background, is posted by my pillow. Before I fall asleep at night, this is the last message that I read, encouraging me to be the best I can be despite life’s obstacles. However, most of all, this saying has helped me develop a sense of self.……I was 2 years old, in the festival of Carabram, a multicultural festival consisting of pavilions, each showcasing a different culture. I have played many roles in this festival including decorating, participating in vocal and instrumental performances, planning, researching and touring. My participation in this festival has deepened my love of my Caribbean and African heritage as I learned about their contributions to Canadian society. I am comfortable in my skin. I also learned about how they overcame hardships. This has strengthened my resiliency……

My dad has also played a large role in forming my identity. My father, a Trinidadian, never had the opportunity to learn the steel pan, his country’s national instrument, also the only acoustic instrument invented in the 20^th century. As a result, he pushed me to learn the native instrument at an early age. I learned not only how to play the tenor and double guitar pans, but I also learned about the story of Winston Spree Simon, the man who hammered the inside of an oil drum left behind by the British after WW2, creating an instrument that when hit would vibrate at different pitches. When I was in middle school, I noticed some friends who were underperforming academically. Thus, I introduced them to the instrument and to participate in Carabram. They could better appreciate their culture and which resulted in an increased self-confidence which resulted in a positive self-image. After their first steel pan performance, hearing the cheers of the audience, they realized something. They had potential. They had a skill. …..

My family made me the role model I am today. In February 2013, a 9^th grader during my first year of high school, I was disappointed that there were no mentions of Black History Month during February. The following year I founded the Black History Club. Our mandate would be to highlight the positive achievements of blacks in the community especially to a crowd of primarily white students. It would be important to expose these students, the next generation of leaders, to important roles blacks play in Canadian society. Next year in February I organized presentations, informative and engaging for the students. ….

Without my family, I would not have had the confidence to start these initiatives and pursue learning about my culture. I would not have been able to be an agent for change and help change the misconception of a people. If one is strong and confident one doesn’t have to feel inferior.”

So, there is the essay. I get goosebumps every time I come across it. It would pain me to think that this son could be part of a plot to throw me out on the streets if I needed help. I have seen the aforementioned senior struggle in the snow morning and evening with her grandchildren. It behooves me that her family is kicking her out now that her “usefulness” has expired. Please journey with me as we strive to end elder abuse. Walk Good! Belle Marché

A Better Tomorrow

A personal search for meaning; a perspective on pain and pain expressed

Published

2 years ago

April 24, 2023

Simone Smith

Photo Credit: Arina Krasnikova

BY SIMONE J. SMITH

Every now and then, I segway to give my readers perspective on the reason why I have been writing this story for over two years in the Toronto Caribbean Newspaper.

For those who don’t know, the title of my column is called, “A Better Tomorrow.” I initially started to write this as a medium of inspiration; I wanted readers to know that even in the darkest of times, there is always a way to make tomorrow better.

I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the book, “Man’s Search for Meaning.” Psychiatrist and Neurologist Viktor Frankl (1905-1997) wrote about his ordeal as a concentration camp inmate during the Second World War. What he observed was that those who survived longest in concentration camps were not those who were physically strong, but those who retained a sense of control over their environment.

I bring this incredibly poignant novel up, because for many of us, the last few years also allowed us to observe the intricacies of societal behaviour. It was rough for us: families being separated, lockdowns, and businesses closing down. Of course then there were the countless deaths of loved ones, fear of sickness, mainstream media and governmental forces propagating messages of despair that kept us all in our heads, and out of our hearts.

What Panama did was prepare me for this pandemic. I know what it feels like to feel helpless, afraid, unsure of what the next day will bring. The pandemic was on a macro scale, but this experience became macro for me.

All throughout this, all I could do was hope for, “A Better Tomorrow.” I turned my pain into words, and shared these words with all of you. I also learned that all of us have ways that we share our pain with the world. It is not always an artistic beautiful expression; sometimes it comes out as anger, rage, abuse; all human beings, to some degree or another, develop ways of dealing with pain very early on. It is an innate capacity we utilize to adapt and survive this world. It is how we protect our psyche, and our emotions.

Our nature is very similar to plants; we shape ourselves and adapt to our environment. Those that adapt to their environment survive; they twist, torque, and reach in order to get the sunlight and nutrients needed. This can be difficult if you are a plant amongst weeds: there is so much more reaching that you have to do, and it is tiring. It takes something special to move you forward; something that reminds you that what you want in life is not impossible to get.

This is why I share my story. I do it to let readers into my world; have them experience my pain with me, and work with me through my recovery. We all have difficult circumstances in life, and there are those times where giving up is easy. I want you to take a second right now and think about one of your experiences that seemed impossible to overcome, but somehow you did it.

Think about how you felt once you had dealt with the rawness of the situation.

As you are thinking about your experience, I want you to think about how it is making you feel having to think about it.

It is all perspective; regardless of what has happened to you, placing it into perspective is very important. We have to find a way to navigate the noise, see past your current situation, create ways to deal with your pain.

I have learned that sharing my story has helped others open up about their experiences, speak through their trauma and come to terms with it.

I hope you take the time to answer some of the questions I presented earlier, but now, back to the story….

A Better Tomorrow

For the first time in a long time I felt seen; The story behind M

Published

2 years ago

March 14, 2023

Simone Smith

Photo by Pixabay - Ink_Lee0

BY SIMONE J. SMITH

I sat in the steam room and reflected on my meeting with M. “He is so damn short,” I said to myself. He was no more than 5’2, tiny, but he did have a nice body. There was no way that I would ever get involved with someone who was 5’2. I shook my head. This was not the point; I was here because he said that he wanted to work with me, not date me. I had to keep my head on straight, but the way he looked at me, spoke to me.

I snapped out of my thoughts and went to take a shower. After getting dressed I joined M outside. He was waiting by the door on his phone. When he saw me, this scintillating smile flashed on his face.

“Hey Sim! I thought you might be a little hungry after our workout. Let’s go grab something to eat up the street. We can talk about the work that I would like for you to do.”

I was hesitant, but I thought to myself, what is the harm? I was hungry, and if he was buying, I would let him.

“Sure why not! You owe me after nearly killing me out there.”

M laughed and took my bag from me. “Let’s go Sim!”

He waved at the staff and we headed out.

We found a restaurant up the street, not too far from the gym. After we had been seated, the discussions just happened. We talked about everything. Family, where he was born, children. We had a lot in common, especially our love for Detroit. He had been born and raised there, and I had lived in Windsor on and off for 10 years. Some of my fondest memories were those years in Windsor, going to Detroit, working in Detroit, learning in Detroit.

Before I knew it, we had been talking for about three hours. I was four beers in and stuffed from my fish and chips. I looked at the time.

“What are your plans for tomorrow Sim,” M asked?

“Well, I am on my grind right now. I have had a rough few months, and I am trying to get my footing back. This is why we are here; you shared that you want me to help you with your work?”

“Well before we go there,” M replied, “Tell me what has been going on lately?”

I looked down and fought back tears. I wasn’t ready to speak on my recent calamities.

“Sim, it’s okay. Trust me! I have gone through a lot the last few years, and I know what it is like to shut down. Talk to me; sometimes you just have to get it out.”

His invitation to share moved me; I looked up at him and he was sitting there, looking at me. His calmness opened me like a flower, and I started to speak. I told him everything about Panama, my relationship with D, how badly things had been going in my relationship. Once the floodgates were open I couldn’t stop talking. After another hour I finally relented. I sat there quietly, mentally kicking myself for over-sharing.

“Sim,” M said after a few moments of silence. “We are more alike than you think. You see, there is a reason why I reached out to you. You are a beautiful soul, and it is hard to find people to relate to.”

M then started to share his story with me. He also had been in prison, and charged for the same things that I had been accused of. I listened keenly as he told me the experience, soaking up the fact that someone else got me, and understood what I had been going through. The shame. The need to hate myself for what I had done, the pain I had caused my parents, finally someone innerstood me.

We talked until the restaurant closed. It had to be one of the most impactful nights for me since I had gotten out of Panama. I felt seen.

A Better Tomorrow

Things were about to get interesting, and not in a good way; The story behind M

Published

2 years ago

March 10, 2023

Simone Smith

Photo by LOGAN WEAVER | @LGNWVR on Unsplash

BY SIMONE J. SMITH

I will never forget the first time that I met M. He had asked me to meet him at a gym that he was training at down in the North York area. I remember being excited getting ready to go down there. I wasn’t sure why, but when I looked at the picture on LinkedIn, I was quickly made aware.

That skin…

Those lips…

Famous last words; shake my head.

When I arrived at the gym, I parked the car, and gave him a call as he had instructed.

“I’m here!”

“Amazing! I am coming out to get you. Are you dressed to work out?”

It wasn’t until right then that I realized that he had an accent. Was he American? Something about the slight twang in his voice made me nostalgic.

“I am dressed. I am coming in. Do I have to say anything to the person at the front desk?”

“Nah! I am coming out to get you.”

I turned off the car and grabbed my gym bag. Naturally, I had put on my tightest pair of tights, and one of my favourite crop tops. Not exactly a workout outfit, but I had no problem getting sweaty in this.

I made my way towards the door, opened it up, and stepped inside.

The gym was buzzing with noise; weights clanging, music playing, people chatting loudly. I looked around for M, but didn’t see him.

“Hey Simone!”

I turned around and standing in front of me was that handsome face, the beautiful skin, and those big, beautiful lips, on the shortest man I had ever seen. I tried not to make a face, but I don’t know if I held my surprise. The picture on LinkedIn must have been taken from a low angle, because he did not look short in the picture. He could not be more than 4’2. He actually was 4’2. Imagine how it looked with me standing in front of him at 5’9.

“Hey Simone!”

I realized that I had not responded.

“Hello M. Nice to meet you.” I couldn’t stop staring at the top of his head.

“You ready for a workout. I want to show you what I can do for you, and maybe you can help me. You are here to help aren’t you,” he said with a smirk?

I had to laugh. “Direct me to the change room, and I will be right out to help you help me.”

“Head to the back of the gym. The women’s locker room is on the left-hand side. I will be waiting for you.”

I made my way back smiling to myself. What was this little man going to show me? I was pretty athletic and had been working out for a few years. As I changed my clothes, I reflected on the fact that I had assumed he was tall. That was my own fault. I couldn’t blame him for his height. Plus, this was business. Nothing else. I looked in the mirror; “Alright Simone. Let’s do this.”

OMG!

The workout with M nearly killed me. He showed me a few simple things, and honestly it nearly killed me. After 45 minutes he had me sweating and on the floor.

“Wow M! That was amazing. I was here thinking that I was in shape. You definitely showed me,” I said laughing.

“Hey, don’t let my size fool you. I have made bigger men than you cry after working out with me. Go ahead and shower up. Let’s grab something to eat. Put some fuel in your body.”

“Nothing would be better.” M helped me off the floor and I headed back into the change room to get ready.

Well, that was certainly interesting. He had completely caught me off guard. That would not be the first or last time M did that.

Things were about to get interesting, and not in a good way…