Good Neighbors: Always & Nowadays
My parents said, “Be a good neighbor.” I’m your neighbor. Ow, my neck still hurts. The world news is horrifying. We’re on the 26th day of a government shutdown. The local pantry doesn’t have enough food. People who receive SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) benefits will be hungry.
Tossing restlessly in my bed covers, I sit up. It’s dark out, and the dogs are still sleeping. I look at the clock: 4:30 a.m. I fall back in bed and this train wreck of thoughts continues until suddenly my mind shifts to Tamsen.
Tamsen stands on the bridge near Bloomindale on some Wednesday afternoons, sometimes alone, sometimes with a friend who lives nearby. She carries a sign that reads “Compassion.”
Sometimes people wave, honk, or stop to chat. Some want to know what she’s up to, while others just want to say hello. Her message of compassion is always important, but especially nowadays.
Lately many of us feel our bodies are tied in knots—hip pain, back pain, shoulder pain, neck pain. Tension is running rampant in our country.
Roughly 1.4 million federal workers won’t be paid come November 1st. You don’t have to look far to know someone whose family will be affected. Look out your window, talk to the person next to you at the gas station, or go to your local dump and start a conversation.
The US unemployment rate is the highest it’s been since October 2021, when it hit 4.5%. At that time, the country was recovering from the pandemic. Today it’s at 4.3%.
I force myself up, slip on some clothes, and head down the stairs to start the day. My head is still spinning with thoughts that keep coming back to Tamsen standing on the bridge, and to my Dad, who drilled into me the importance of being a good neighbor—a good person.
When I was a little girl and played daily with the neighborhood children, Renée started acting weird, like wearing a jacket in summer. As children, we laughed. But Dad explained to me that she had been diagnosed with leukemia; the sadness in his voice scared me. He had me color pictures for her, and Mom made food for the family. Later their house was always dark and I hardly ever saw Renée’s parents or her older brother. Renée had died, but the lesson of compassionate action stayed with me.
The Trump administration recently told state officials that there will be insufficient funds to pay November SNAP benefits. This directly affects Wisconsin’s FoodShare program and our food banks. According to Governor Evers, 700,000 Wisconsinites will have reduced access to food and other groceries. Some of our neighbors won’t be able to feed their families this winter.
Here in the Driftless region, our local food banks are already suffering because of this administration's federal funding cuts. What can we do? How can we help? These thoughts turn over and over again as I put on a brace to give my neck some relief.
Is the message of compassion enough, I wonder? Many of us have been supporting our local pantries with leftover produce, nonperishable food, or monetary donations. Recently, I learned that being a good neighbor means more than food help. A large group of community members attended a local school board meeting to support a family whose child was being bullied. The family was grateful, and I reminded myself that I was also there to support the school board members because we know how stressful and potentially divisive these situations can be.
I noticed Tamsen sitting in the front row. Later, she reminded me: “That’s what community looks like.”
Practicing compassion at a time when our neighbors may be hungry, worried about their Medicare benefits, or facing job jeopardy is a good way to be a good neighbor. If I move from compassion to action, it may make a difference.
Governor Evers stated, “I can’t just do it by myself.” He went on to say that it appears unlikely the state will step in to cover the costs of these programs in the short term. Any funding would require the approval of the Republican-controlled legislature.
What does being a good neighbor look like to you? I’m trying to gather my courage for an idea inspired by Tamsen. On dump day, I’d like to set up a table adorned with free books, pumpkins, long-lasting foods, and treasures. I’ll put up a sign that reads, “We’re all neighbors here!”
Evers can’t do it alone, I can’t do it alone, nor can Tamsen, but together we can do it. And isn’t that what community looks like?
(Call 211 to ask about food sources near you.)