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So you want to make a difference: 7 Strategies for community organizers

June 3, 2010 in Blog, Community, art and ideas | No comments

I’ve seen it again and again, and despite knowing better, I’ve fallen victim to it myself more times than I care to admit.  Working as a community organizer –  in whatever field, paid or volunteer – vision, dreams, and ambitions almost always outstrip resources and abilities.  After years martyring themselves over small victories and large losses, some burn out, some break down, and some leave in frustration and bitterness.  Even worse, some stay in frustration and bitterness, angry, exhausted, and negative, pulling the organization down with them.  It’s a nasty thing to do to yourself, and a bad way to treat a good dream.

What I consider the greater crime, however, is the culture of wear-down that perpetuates this cycle.  How many terrific, smart, passionate people get so worn down by the demands, expectations, disappointments, losses, and low-income of a career in the community and non-profit sector that we lose them after a few years, with a net loss to the community of invaluable experience, momentum, and expertise?  As people interested in the health and vibrancy of our community, it’s poor behaviour to demand that our volunteers and employees sacrifice their own to the cause.

Whenever I hear the adjective “tireless” applied to a community worker, hear jovial references to their round-the-clock presence at the office, see their time and work undervalued, I worry about the future of the organization they work for.  It’s a process of attrition, a death by a thousand cuts.  The fall may be slow, but it’s inevitable.

A community’s greatest asset is its skilled workers; protect yourself, and the important work you do, by avoiding the pitfalls.

I’ve given this a lot of thought, having been involved in the community sector a long time, and often fallen into the traps described above.  As paid staff, volunteer, and Board member, I’ve both asked too much and been asked too much.  There’s not a mistake on this list I haven’t made myself, sometimes over and again.  So, as much to remind myself as to educate anyone else, here are seven strategies for making a positive difference in both your own life, and that of the community! Read the rest of this entry »

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My life in theatre

April 15, 2010 in Blog | 1 comment

John Mather and Saskia Crescentia

John and Saskia working on the music for The Three Penny Opera

Tonight is the opening night of the Max’s Cabaret production of The Threepenny Opera, and I’m on tenterhooks – I’m playing Mrs. Peachum, and I’m simultaneously excited and nervous.  Max’s Cabaret always takes me outside of my comfort zone, and this one is no exception – playing a mother, singing a soprano part, in a comedic role.  Add to that the whirlwind of any MC show, the unconventional setting (Kubo Lounge), high heels and stockings and last-minute changes, and you’d think it would be a recipe for disaster.  But Max’s shows always pull together, and create a evening of theatre and music unlike any you’re going to see with any other company.

I’ve been an actor pretty much my whole life; The first audition that I recall was when I was 11 or 12, for the Peterborough Theatre Guild’s Production of The Miracle Worker.  I have one vivid memory of being on stage with a bunch of other kids, trying to act like I couldn’t see and accidentally making eye contact with the woman playing Helen Keller (who also wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending to be blind).  I didn’t get the part, though my Mom took me to see the play, and it made a huge impression on me.  We had always been a theatre-going family, and were lucky enough when I was young to have two strong theatre companies in our area and a lot of other theatre besides.  There was a lot of inspiration around. Read the rest of this entry »

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Nana had a good war.

March 16, 2010 in Blog | No comments

My grandmother, Cynthia Dowdall, is a great storyteller.  Ever since I was a tiny little nuisance of a thing, I’ve sat next to her and listened to her tell stories.  A teenager in London England when World War II started, she mostly talks about the war – how she was evacuated to Cranleigh, Surrey, how her mother joined her and her younger sisters there, and how she met and married my Grandfather, John Dowdall and moved to rural Canada, worlds away from the thrills of London.

You can tell that Nana really loved the excitement and danger of the war years, since she rarely tells stories about anything else.  She  she dated plenty of men, she moved frequently with her family, the bombs fell and the fires raged and aircraft came crashing down.  The Edwards were a very eccentric and theatrical family; Nana Billie, my great-grandmother, was a confirmed flirt and a great hand at cards.  Papa Horace, my great-grandfather, was an aircraft mechanic and had served in World War I; when he eventually moved to Canada, he worked on the Avro Arrow.  Great-Aunt Pam was a dancer, and toured in shows around England.

This video was shot in about 2001; I’ve done a series of interviews with her, and I’m aiming to get them online over this year.

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The internet ruins everything that needs to be ruined.

March 11, 2010 in Blog, Community, art and ideas | No comments

Conan O'BrienI’ve always been a fan of Conan O’Brien, but never really watched his tv show; generally I’m up to other things at 11:30 or later.  I watch the good bits online, because I am one of those internet people who are ruining everything.  But I took note of the news about the Tonight Show controversy with interest; I saw it as ringside seats on the big bout between old media and new; the online voice came out strongly in support of Conan, and Jay Leno, a representative of the old guard in essentially every way, came out looking like a villain. But he got his show back, and Conan rode out of NBC with his dignity, his talent, and the hearts of everyone under 40.

So it’s not news that the big guys, be they record labels or tv stations or newspapers or media conglomerates, have lost their game and can’t seem to get it back.  Talking to an acquaintance who works on the fringes of a major record label, I hear the same worn-out melodrama – piracy is ruining everything.  I was surprised that anyone still thinks so; certainly, none of the musicians I’ve spoken to seem to be worrying about piracy – in fact, most of the smart ones are giving songs away for free.  The more I look around, the more I see the big labels and the media that serves them as impediments to success, unless the planets align and you happen to be one of the slender minority of mega-stars that they’re willing to push.

That model – a few large corporations controlling the major distribution outlets for all culture – is fairly recent.  And like any system that relies on too little diversity, it’s hugely vulnerable as the world around it shifts and develops.  Just as nature develops new and nasty diseases to attack factory farms, human technology develops to attack factory culture.  Old media have managed to keep a stranglehold on the mainstream through a number of new technologies, but perhaps (a girl can dream) their slow-moving monoliths are no match for the flexibility and adaptability of the internet.   Read the rest of this entry »

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Defenders of the great white north.

February 19, 2010 in Blog, Sort-of funny, art and ideas | 3 comments

I have a theory.

Whiskey, neatOkay, I have a lot of theories, and I try the patience of my long-suffering friends by expounding on them, often over whiskey (neat), sometimes while one or another of those long-suffering friends keeps me from plunging sideways into a bonfire or through a coffee table.  Even when generously marinated in Ireland’s finest, I exhibit perspicacity and blarney than amuses more often than it angers.  At least, that’s how I choose to  remember it in the clear light of day.  It is the only explanation for my continued rescue from the fate that awaits those who are unrestrained in both consumption of whiskey and expression of half-baked opinions, though perhaps I should give more credit to the kind natures and loving hearts of my friends.

But this is one pet theory I’ve cherished for almost a decade, and I think it’s ready for the slightly more public forum of the world wide web.  I’m not sure the world – and, in particular, Canadians – are ready for this; it’s controversial, it’s going to inflame strong opinions and, no doubt, passionate debate.  So, before I go on, I implore you to keep it civil in the comments.

My friends in the United States may not be aware of this, but in Canada, ‘north’ is a place the is completely subject to interpretation.  To some people, mostly Torontonians, I live in the north, even though I’m actually more eastish in relation to them.  To me, Sudbury and North Bay is the real, no-foolin’ north (it even says so in the name), and Thunder Bay has true northiness.  But what I rarely stop to consider (and I think my southern Ontario neighbours are with me on this one), is that most of Canada is north of all of the places I’ve named, and that actually none of them are even north of the 49th parallel.  Kapuskasing mocks the northiness of Thunder Bay, and Nunvavut sits secure in the knowledge of being the northest of us all.

So, to simplify; people think we’re all north in Canada, we think we’re all north, and everyone north of each of us thinks everyone south of them is the southiest.  Add to that the idea that being a southern Canadian is like having cooties forever, and then being a southern Ontarian is like cooties to the power of infinity.  We’re lame.  We’re not aware of how lame we are, but everyone else in Canada knows it like they know where you get a double-double and where you buy a two-four. Read the rest of this entry »

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Balance and Recovery

January 23, 2010 in Blog, Current Projects, Ideas, art and ideas | 7 comments

Six years ago, give or take, I was diagnosed with Clinical Depression.  Having spent years feeling a kind of hopeless dull normal, it was a relief to hear from a medical professional that it wasn’t just me; it wasn’t just that I’m weaker than everyone else, or less capable of taking the unbearable awfulness of my life, as I’d suspected.  The chemicals in my brain were imbalanced.  This could be fixed.

I think those first few years I must have been a bit weird; assigned a drug with a name that implied it would work (Effexor – now with even more effex!), I found I’d traded one kind of miserable for another, though it was a more bearable misery.  I wished for a switch to flip, a miracle, a fixer.  I wished (oh, I still do) that they could find my depression and cut it out where it lies. We tried different drugs, different doses, and eventually I found that what really helped was Omega 3-6-9 capsules and exercise, and everything improved dramatically after that.

But lingering at the back of my mind is the fear that I’ll slip, or that the Omega’s effects will wear off and I’ll be back where I started or worse.  I’ve read the literature; Clinical Depression is theorized to essentially scar your brain, making it easy to fall back into the chasm you’ve hauled yourself out of.  I don’t mind being sad sometimes, but that unvarying sameness of depression isn’t sadness.  It’s hard to describe, but it’s not the same as being sad.  I look back at it with a horror that motivates me now to ensure I never go back there. Read the rest of this entry »

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