I wonder if they notice the renovated homes and nice gardens. I hope they notice the old folks and young kids out for a relaxing walk. I wish they – and I – would not be too distracted by some of the grief and troublemakers in the neighbourhood.
Here, among the almost-ex-drunks and the almost-ex-cons, in small suites and dilapidated buildings, live people like my friend Jerry.
We’ve known each other for almost 10 years now. Originally from a reserve called Fairford, Jerry lives in the apartment block just south of New Life Ministries.
He doesn’t attend our church, but we share many of the same concerns and hopes for the West End. Each of us figures we’ll just keep doing our part to “fix up the neighbourhood.”
Jerry talks often of living by “the code.” When I asked him to define this “code,” I learned it was more a state of mind than a piece of paper. He explained, “It’s about respect. It’s not about race or degrees or power. It’s about keeping your word. It’s about thinking about more than yourself.”
“If you live by the code,” he says, “people call you ‘solid.’ They know you can be trusted.” Jerry is the kind of guy that undermines the cynicism and pessimism that pervades people’s perception of the inner-city. That “code,” shared among many of the good folk in our neighbourhood, is what brings stability to what often seems like the Wild, Wild, Westend.
Jerry, his friend Barb, and his son Wayne have been working with our Lazarus Housing project. They’ve taken on some of our toughest jobs, doing them in a way that makes me proud that we’re on the same team. He seems able to find humor and pursue friendship in almost any situation. “No big deal,” he tells me. “It’s all part of living by the code.”
But what I admire most about Jerry is that he sticks with the code even when it doesn’t seem to be working for him. It’s not like he’s rich, driving a car, or even living in a great apartment. He’s been struggling with his health. Still he stubbornly sticks with his personal code of honor.
Two weeks ago, he knocked quietly at the back door of the church. He’d been feeling sick for awhile, and had just received some test results. His somber expression and hunched shoulders gave a hint of the news he needed to share.
“It’s bad news, Harry. It’s real bad.”
We sat down as he told me that the doctor had informed him that his bowels were full of cancer.
I hate that “C” word. Worse than crack, crooks or cons, cancer becomes more than a disease. For many, that word becomes a symbol for pain and despair.
Jerry asked the doctor about his odds of survival. The doctor said the odds were definitely against him. Jerry responded the best he could. “That’s about the way it’s always been for me. I figure then that I still have a chance.” They made plans to get him into surgery as quickly as possible.
After the initial shock, the two of us tried to anticipate what might lie ahead.
There were tears as we considered the worst case scenarios. Struggling with the question of “why” gave no satisfaction. There are no answers. He expressed his love and concern for those around him. We talked about what it meant to live –and die – with honor.
After preparing for the worst, however, we also prayed for the best. That the doctors would catch and remove the disease. That he would be able to hold down food and build up strength for the fight ahead of him. That pity would not drown out determination.
This Wednesday, I visited him in the hospital after the operation. Jerry greeted me with renewed hope. “Good news!” he said. “The surgeons figure they got it all.” He showed me the scar and colostomy bag. He shared his determination to participate in the healing process.
And he reaffirmed his commitment to “the code.”
Jerry and I are under no illusions. Even if we beat an illness and our odds of survival, we all eventually die. It’s not a question of “if” we have to die. It’s more a question of “how” we choose to live.
Rev. Harry Lehotsky
514 Maryland Street
Winnipeg, Mb R3G 1M5
(204) 775-4929
lehotsky@escape.ca