Wrong numbers show much is right

In a memoir published in 1990 by the celebrated CBC radio host Peter Gzowski, a survey depicts the world as a tormented, macabre place.

Gzowski refers to an analysis of every story on CBC radio of 1,000 hourly news broadcasts around 1985. The finding: 88 per cent of the stories are about conflict; 56 per cent are about death; and only three per cent relate to good tidings. What a monstrous distortion of what is happening in the daily lives of people.

A survey today probably would reveal similar results. Catastrophe and violence lead the broadcasts. It might be a story about an anonymous person being stabbed, as if it were the most relevant thing happening in Winnipeg that day. I do not pretend that the world is devoid of abuse and calamity but positive relationships are ignored.

So I return to this subject of the imbalance of the news with my own informal survey. It is nothing esoteric. It concerns dialing the wrong number on the phone and the reactions of recipients. It reveals the temper of our times, and I am happy to say that it is friendly and positive indeed.

I do not call wrong numbers by design for I cannot see the numbers on my dial and I estimate their positions.

I remember one wrong call I made because it leaves me with a feeling of elation, thoughts of a stranger reaching out with pleasantries to another.

I apologize when a strange woman answers. "That's OK," she responds genially.

I am the intruder but she says, "thank you." Maybe it is because I am so contrite. In closing, she offers the quintessential Canadian retort. "I'm sorry," she says.

On another occasion, I call a friend and leave a message on the answering machine. A day later I get a call from a stranger. His phone had registered my number on its call display. "Mr. Werier," he says, "I want to tell you that your friend won't get your message." I thank him profusely for the call had been important.

"It's OK," he responds. "Have a good evening."

In another call after a number of rings, a strange voice answers. I am abashed because it must have taken a long time to get to the phone. I apologize. "It's OK," she replies, drawing out the phrase with a consoling undertone to soften my error.

I am struck by the good nature and forbearance of the recipients of my wrong calls. They wish me well as in the cheery voice of a woman. "No problem," she says. "Take care."

These interactions are of minor significance in the annals of our time, relationships not recorded in history but so revealing about the tenor of our community. It tells us something about the personality of people. Canadians as a whole are a decent and caring people.

A man in his fifties raps at my door one cold morning. His name is Cory and he has found two pieces of mail addressed to me on the sidewalk. He goes out of his way to bring me the mail. "No problem," he says.

When writing this article, I come upon another benign element in our community. I was in Victoria Hospital to mend an injured, infected ankle where I struck gold in the comfort and care given to patients by nurses, doctors, aides and housekeeping staff.

This includes my own doctor of more than 30 years, Brian Sharkey, who spares me office trips by making visits to my home.

It is easy to criticize our medical care, faced with enormous and complex demands. One common complaint is waiting for service inside and outside of hospital. But it is easier to praise the merits of our system particularly in comparison with the American way where bearing guns is considered a right but access to health care is not. Forty million people are not covered by insurance and may go into bankruptcy or lose their homes to pay their health bills.

I find much to be admired in the environment of the hospital, despite the shortage of staff, in the attitude and concern shown by them.

This view is supported wholeheartedly by an informal survey of patients I make during my extended stay in the hospital. The nurses "are very nice and treat us so well" says one woman in her forties. They are a dedicated group as evidenced too in the student nurses working at the hospital.

I tell Ivy Harrison, senior nurse of family medicine, that I think her motto is: "It can be done!"

"No, my motto is it WILL be done."

That is her positive approach, ignited by an infectious laugh. Ivy is vivacious and professional, characteristics that are not hers alone.

Harrison sets the spirit of the ward, exemplified by Mary and Anne of the housekeeping staff. They will cast aside their mops to heed the request of a patient whether for a glass of water or heating up a cold morning coffee. That is removed from their job description but they are part of the healing team.

I come from the hospital with the thought that we need to recognize the strengths in our community, which are extensive and formidable. Forget the morning broadcasts of bad news; Winnipeg is a city with a heart.

Val Werier is a Winnipeg writer.

Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition May 9, 2012 A12