Being human — by choice

I have found myself thinking about what draws me to a children’s television host who spent decades talking about how we live together in neighbourhoods.

Fred Rogers had this gentle way of speaking to children about the everyday challenges of being human: how to handle anger, disappointment, fear, and joy. But the more I consider his approach, the more I realize he wasn’t really teaching children how to behave, how to feel about themselves, how to understand the world around them. He was making something much more fundamental feel possible and worthwhile: he was making human decency aspirational.

Mr. Rogers knew that how we treat each other matters, not because it’s polite or proper, but because it’s how we create the kind of world we actually want to live in. His genius wasn’t in the specific lessons he taught, but in how he made kindness, patience, honesty, and gentleness feel like the most essential ways to be human.

I keep wondering if that’s what we’re missing sometimes. Not more rules about how to behave, but a sense that kindness and integrity are worth striving for.

The world is tough. We all know this. We need to function, to get things done, to navigate complicated situations where there aren’t easy answers. I’m not thinking about becoming saints or pretending that life is simple. What comes to mind are those small moments when we choose to extend a bit more patience even when we’re frustrated, or when we offer understanding instead of judgment even when it would be easier not to.

I see this way of showing up for others happening around me more often than the news might suggest. I see people giving back even when they’re struggling themselves. I watch neighbours show up for each other in ways that no one will write articles about. I notice the thoughtful gestures, the way people offer presence and understanding when someone needs it most. These aren’t heroic acts. They’re the everyday choices that shape how we experience living together.

I get the feeling that many people want this. They want to be good neighbours, good colleagues, good family members. They want their children to grow up kind and resilient. They want to contribute something positive to their communities.

Maybe what I’m thinking about is that making thoughtful choices, even when it’s inconvenient, even when we’re tired, even when no one notices, is at the root of many of life’s most meaningful moments.

This doesn’t mean ignoring real problems or pretending that kindness alone solves everything. What I find myself valuing is recognizing that how we treat each other while we navigate those problems matters deeply. It means acknowledging that the small choices we make in our daily interactions create the texture of life for everyone around us.

The parents who choose patience over efficiency when their children are struggling. The co-workers who take time to really listen instead of rushing to solutions. The strangers who offer help without being asked. The people who find ways to speak up when someone’s being treated unfairly. These aren’t extraordinary people. They’re ordinary people making choices that align with their deepest values, even when it costs them something.

Maybe that’s what making human decency aspirational looks like. Not perfection, but alignment. Not sainthood, but the ongoing practice of choosing our better selves, even in small ways, even when it’s hard.

When I look at the overlapping communities we are part of, I can’t help but notice how our actions ripple outward in ways we don’t always see. The patience we extend to a stressed cashier, the way we listen to a friend who’s going through a difficult time, the kindness we show to someone who’s different from us. These moments feel like they matter more than we usually give them credit for.

Fred Rogers knew this. He spent his life helping children understand that their feelings mattered, that they were loved, and that they had something valuable to contribute to their communities. Maybe what we grown-ups need is a similar invitation to trust that our impulse toward decency is worth honouring.

I believe there’s still space for the kind of basic humanity that makes life richer for everyone. As I reflect on this more and more, the question doesn’t seem to be whether we’re capable of it. I see evidence every day that we are. What I find myself wondering is whether we’ll choose to make it a priority, whether we’ll decide human decency is worth wanting.

I think it is.

Carina Blumgrund writes from Winnipeg.