Love your neighbour as yourself. We know this from the Bible. 

But covid taught us to be a little scared of our neighbours, and maybe a little scared of ourselves. The pandemic transformed us all from agents of love and care into possible agents of harm, by no fault of our own. The threat of spreading a sometimes deadly virus was always there, lingering. 

Basic social habits like greeting somebody with a handshake, dropping by for a coffee, or two-stepping with friends to a favourite tune were all undermined, leaving us second guessing generations of learned social structures that kept communities together. New ways of gathering had to be invented, and most fell short of the in-person alternatives we long took for granted. 

A lot of this was for good cause. We learned a new kind of care for our neighbours. Suddenly, loving your neighbour meant keeping your distance, especially with the vulnerable. We were taught to protect each other, and protecting, for several years at least, meant respecting the literal walls that separated us. 

The pandemic, for many, forced a turn inward, a focus on one’s inner life, needs and desires, a shrinking of our senses of what was possible in a day, a shrinking of how far we imagined we could stretch ourselves. It forced a removal of the foot from the gas pedal. But it was lonely. Loving ourselves became the only option. Loving our neighbours? We sort of fell out of practice. 

A turn inward like this can be tricky to undo. After the most intense of pandemic restrictions were lifted, some local service clubs cited challenges recruiting new volunteers. People, it seemed, were less inclined to give their time. And this makes sense. 

We are, as humans, most comfortable with those most like us, to whom we don’t have to explain ourselves and who seem to tolerate our less endearing tendencies. It takes work to extend ourselves and connect with others. But it doesn’t mean this extension is not well worth it. And Pontiac knows this well. 

This year, like most, January seemed to offer itself as a mini-pandemic. People crawled across the finish line that was the Christmas holidays and then cocooned for weeks, recovering from too much food, too much small talk, and not enough time doom scrolling. But as January turned to February, Pontiac communities exploded with evidence that people here are still determined to show up for each other, even in near-arctic temperatures. 

Over the past two weeks, we’ve seen neighbours gathering for winter carnivals, Lions breakfasts, Valentine’s Day teas, dinners and dances, euchre tournaments, trivia nights, fishing derbies, kitchen parties and more. And none of this just appears. Behind every event is a team of volunteers who spend days decorating, shopping, cooking, serving, and cleaning up afterwards. Most of these events double as fundraisers for some community need, be it a brine pump for the curling club, a roof for an outdoor rink, or soccer nets for the kiddos. 

Perhaps if there’s a lesson to hold onto from the pandemic, it’s that loving ourselves is key to loving our neighbours. And loving our neighbours – the act of giving ourselves to something bigger than our immediate worlds, be it through mashing potatoes elbow to elbow with other volunteers for hours on end, maintaining a local rink, or simply showing up to dance – is equally key to our ability to love ourselves. We need the walls, but we also need to make sure we keep the doors unlocked, or heck even spend more time on our front porches, so a neighbour can join us for a cup of coffee.

Sophie Kuijper Dickson