I know that in other parts of the world the CIA acronym stands for “Central Intelligence Agency.” Not in our neighbourhood. Here in Winnipeg’s West End, we've started our own CIA. Same acronym, with an entirely different meaning: “Community Improvement Association.” And our “operatives” are nothing more than ordinary citizens trying to improve our neighbourhood.
We meet monthly, on the last Wednesday evening of every month. Usually our CIA consists of a small core of an extended group representing West End residents and business owners. Occasionally, we get a visit from some sympathetic public servants.
Our mission is pretty simple. We try to make life better for the good guys and worse for the bad guys. We live with a dream that, with enough encouragement and help, the bad guys may eventually tire and join us.
The folks attending our monthly meetings are nuts about the West End. This is purely a volunteer group. No paid staff. No funding. No paid community organizers or “community developers.” No political butt-kissing. We're organized more for action than by affiliation. Governments usually seem to prefer the latter to the former when it comes to community groups.
Our people are as interesting as they are varied. Our political orientations and personal dysfunctions cover a broad range. To most casual observers we would be a decidedly unimpressive bunch, definitely a motley crew. But these are key people in improving our community and we enjoy working together in our little CIA crew.
Last meeting, however, one of our members was missing. His name is Randy, and he's one of the good guys around this neighbourhood.
For years, Randy wheeled his wheelchair to Winnipeg Harvest. He'd pick up food for others with disabilities worse than his own and deliver it to their door. You may have heard about him, though he didn't do this for attention – just satisfaction. And he definitely didn’t do it for the money, because he wasn’t paid for his work. He did it because he cared for others.
He spent 10 years wheeling countless bags of groceries around town. If he couldn't affix all the bags to his wheelchair, he would strap them to different parts of his body. Lots of weight, lots of distance and the passing of many seasons took a toll on Randy's body.
Still he continued to work. He became instrumental in the “Spence Team On Patrol,” a citizens safety patrol in our neighbourhood. Wheeling around where some people refuse to walk, Randy and some friends patrol late at night and early into the morning.
But things are getting tougher. Beyond his disability, he now struggles with a painful and degenerative spinal condition. Some of the parts of his body that don't hurt are going numb. He's woken up at night slamming his hand against the wall to get some feeling back in it. He doesn't get out as much as he used to.
Doctors don't give him much to look forward to. Friends don't always know what to say.
Randy's wondered if he's somehow being judged for something. I can't see that Randy's being judged for anything. In my good book there's a passage about creation “groaning” for the day of redemption. In this world everything - and everyone - eventually deteriorates. The “groaning” is the sound of this deterioration. And it's also the longing for a day of redemption and healing. Randy doesn't go to my church, but I'm praying like crazy for my friend.
When it comes to politics, he and I usually part ways. He turns left and I tend to turn right. When I ran for office, he campaigned against me. Election campaigns usually generate more heat than light, so we've had a few heated exchanges. But our love for community transcends our politics. We don't doubt each other's desire to help.
According to the news, there's lots of “tough guys” in this neighbourhood. But bikers, gangsters, wannabees and pimps are wimps next to people like my buddy Randy.
Most days he's more concerned about what he won't be able to do, than he is concerned about what's happening to him.
He might be ticked off that I'm telling you his story, because he doesn't want anyone's pity.
But I figure a little understanding, respect and the prayers of a few more neighbours can't hurt.
Rev. Harry Lehotsky
514 Maryland Street
Winnipeg, Mb R3G 1M5
(204) 775-4929
lehotsky@escape.ca