The recession arrived at my door last night. And it has left me
incredibly sad. It arrived in the form of a gentle ,middle-aged woman,
tears in her eyes,who insisted I take a half bag of dog biscuits she
offered.
Here is the story.
Not far from my house is a home for unwed mothers. A quaint term, I
realize for the sophisticated, Chardonnay sipping crowd. But some
young girls, without family support, need a place out of the cold, if
they decide to have their babies. It is not a religious or
proselytizing venture. It is just a home, supported by a small
charitable grant.
Every day, I walk my dog down the lanes of my neighbourhood and I pass
this house. A middle aged lady who is the house-mother waits every
morning, rain or shine, to give my dog a biscuit. She cooks and cleans
at the home, and baby sits the infants when the girls want a break to
do the things young girls like to do. I have always had the feeling
that giving that biscuit was the highlight of her day.
Last night, she found my house and rang the bell. She was quietly
sobbing in the rain. She whispered that she had been laid off for lack
of funds but asked me to keep the remaining dog biscuits.
Have you ever had one of those moments when you want to do 100 right
things but you just stand there?
Here in this city, our government is determined to give a tax payer
funded home to every junky, drifter and rebellious teenager they find
on the street, regardless of how culpable they may be for their own
circumstances.
But there is no money at Christmas for a woman who helps other women,
who nurtures underprivileged newborns, who takes money from her meagre
pay to feed a stranger's dog.
I didn't sleep well. In my comfortable house, surrounded by excess
possessions, I felt sadly diminished. And I still do today.
Victor Godin
