The Courier & Advertiser (Fife Edition)
We should start to appreciate troubles and kindness that are all around us
On a morning run a few days ago I bumped into a young woman walking a beautiful young Labrador. We blethered for a bit. And she told me it was a disability dog which was being trained to assist with her profoundly disabled daughter. The girl could smile and see but had no other physical capabilities, having been struck down with brain damage after a fever as a child.
Her mum was the soul of cheerfulness. And there was little doubt from our conversation that her daughter brought the deepest joy into her life.
We exchanged cheerios and I continued on my way. But my run was fogged by tears and I almost ran into a tree.
Some folk will laugh at this but I said a Hail Mary out loud, imploring intercession that her future path might be as smooth as possible. I was suddenly acutely conscious that despite my daily moans and groans I’ve never had to carry a weight too great to bear.
On my dad’s side in a family of seven siblings, his brother and sister, my Uncle Wullie and Auntie Mary, were struck down by polio and died in their 20s.
They were both bedridden, after previously being fit and well.
My Granda, who was a master baker by trade, was a pocket battleship.
He wasn’t a big man but he was broad of shoulder and chest. And he needed to be to carry two disabled adults nightly upstairs to their bedrooms, no easy task with Uncle Wullie standing over 6ft tall.
My grandfather also had to cope with my uncle returning from France badly wounded after a Messerschmitt attack. He was only 18 and he spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair. He was nursed back from death’s dark vale at Bangour hospital near Edinburgh, with the family forever indebted to the work of the legendary Professor Norman Dott. The pioneering neurosurgeon, who oversaw his care, had himself been badly injured in a motorbike accident as a young man.
My granny never complained.
In her devout Catholicism she regarded it as her cross to bear and carried it all with equanimity.
I returned from my morning run with a mind deep in contemplation about life’s vagaries to find my neighbour in my garden helping to dig out our flower bed which was needing some tender love and care.
He’s not in the first flush of youth. But he is unquestionably fitter than blokes half his age and is on the go in his own garden morning to night, rain hail or shine. He grows great vegetables and in summer we’re never short of tasty tomatoes or lovely lettuce for a summer salad.
He’s one of life’s generous souls both with his advice and his time, never asking anything in return. And he is as sprightly as an athlete when he climbs over the wall to lend a hand.
The kindness, common decency, and the loads that folk carry daily are all around us.
But sometimes, and I include myself here, we’re too wrapped up in our own wee world to see and appreciate it.
Staying with that theme I wonder if we appreciate enough those hundreds of thousands of volunteers who every single day keep the show on the road in so many areas of life.
And I wonder if those who volunteer have sufficient protection in a world where false accusations can turn their lives upside down. From the Brownies to the Scouts, from charity shops to foodbanks, the caring and the kind freely and willingly give up their time unpaid. Many offer their skills selflessly and without reward other than the satisfaction of doing the right thing.
I have the greatest of admiration for them, especially in today’s world where there must be potential grief lurking round every corner. False accusations by unhinged or vexatious individuals can send organisations who rely hugely on the kindness of volunteers into a tailspin.
And that can, in turn, leave hapless volunteers hanging out to dry and facing damage to their reputations. Major organisations can cower before the various cards played, from race to religion to gender and others. And I wonder if it bodes ill for the future of volunteering.
Putting yourself at risk for no reward amid the possibility of someone turning your life upside down with spurious allegations, has become a risk. And it’s a
False accusations can leave volunteers hanging out to dry
risk that must be balanced very carefully against the satisfaction of voluntary effort.
I would always encourage folk to volunteer for good causes but I’d also advise them to ensure that legal backing is available from the organisations that they’re giving up their time for in the event of complaints.
Because despite all the goodness in the world, the potential for grief is very real.