Real life isn’t a Facebook Rant Room.

Tale of two Cape Bretons separates those trying to make a difference from the whiners and complainers

“That’s Cape Breton for ya.” I heard this comment being thrown around like an insult in a coffee shop the other day. At the table next to me two men in their late 50s were talking politics (“they’re all a bunch of liars”), news headlines (“buddy was a druggie for sure”) and immigration (“why do they even want to be here? Wouldn’t they be happier with their own people?”)

They were also talking trash. After each ignorant, insulting chorus, the other would chime in: “Yeah, but that’s Cape Breton for ya.”

Well, buddy, that’s not Cape Breton for me.

In my Cape Breton the politics isn’t tired and old. It’s heated and filled with passionate people who disagree on many things but show up everyday to serve. To you they may be “greedy” but to me our councillors and MLAs are friends and neighbours we’ve empowered with a piece of our voice. We lent it to them with our vote. If you’re unhappy take it back with your next vote. Maybe put your name on the ballot yourself.

We aren’t sitting around waiting for a solution to fall from the sky. Everyday I’m working with groups, organizations and agencies filled with people and ideas that are bringing the change. Is what they’re doing enough? No. It’s never enough. So you can complain or you can have the courage to voice an idea, gather some support, and build a solution. No one expects you to solve the whole problem, but we’d all sure appreciate it if you reinvested the energy you spend running your mouth into running a community project.

In my Cape Breton we don’t say a sideways word about immigrants starting over here. We admire the strength they muster to establish roots because in their choice we’re reminded of what our grandparents and great grandparents did so that we could be from here.

In my Cape Breton we’re more than a tartan and a fiddle. We cherish those symbols and the cultures they represent, but we also celebrate the countless other cultures now rooted here too. Our industries grew and our neighbourhoods came alive with their signing, dancing, language and traditions.

In my Cape Breton we recognize the need to be closer with our strong Aboriginal communities, to borrow their community building structures and to channel the confidence that comes from rebuilding. It’s a confidence the rest of our community could now use.

In my Cape Breton we talk honestly about the impact addictions and mental health issues are having on our families. We don’t think we’re better than each other. We don’t think those suffering are somehow different from us. We’re constantly aware that we are one decision away from it being our family torn apart by a force often stronger than the relationships that hold us together.

In my Cape Breton we’re honest about poverty and food insecurity. We’re ashamed that almost one-third of Cape Breton children are living in poverty. From that shame we find the conviction to change that number in a measurable way year over year. It happens one child at a time. It happens one family at a time. It’s not daunting when you break it down. In my Cape Breton, you recognize that you have the power to make a difference - and you find a way.

In my Cape Breton we see the connection between our cultural attitude toward binge drinking and the staggering number of domestic abuse reports our police receive - and we take responsibility for breaking the pattern by ensuring another generation isn’t raised learning that what happens at home stays at home because it doesn’t. It finds its way into their schools, into their hearts and when they grow up into their families all over again.

In my Cape Breton each day is met with optimism. Not because the way forward is easy - it is not - but because the work we are doing is critical and impactful. Complaining is an easy sport for people who like to hear themselves talk. It’s incredibly safe on the sidelines. You don’t have to get your hands dirty. You don’t have to face the issues, meet the families or ever put faces and names to the people whose lives and decisions you pick apart from the comfort of a coffee shop while you flick at the tab of your double-double.

That’s Cape Breton for ya? No, that’s your Cape Breton. You should come spend a day in mine. Real life isn’t a Facebook Rant Room. It’s filled with action and consequence. Whether your actions are of any consequence is completely up to you. But by all means, take another sip, smack your lips to make sure we’re all looking and loudly explain for the third time how the plow operator should be doing his job. We’re all dying to hear what you think.

“Yeah, but that’s Cape Breton for ya.”