In Winnipeg, navigating winter requires patience

Opinion

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This article was published 16/02/2019 (2427 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

When you’re stuck on Kenaston Boulevard in a line of bumper-to-bumper traffic that’s clogged by a vehicle stalled several blocks ahead, there’s lots of time to ponder the virtue of patience.

Drivers who are impatient might fume with frustration about being trapped in the bottleneck, perhaps uttering foul words about Winnipeg drivers who don’t heed the etiquette of zipper-merging.

Meanwhile, people who are patient might relieve their stress with mindful breathing, and say to themselves: “How fortunate, this unexpected interlude lets me enjoy more music.”

The practice of patience is crucial to cope with Manitoba winters — almost as important as block heaters and good boots.

One guy who could benefit from a display of Manitoba patience is Winnipeg Jets winger Patrik Laine. He was a fan favourite when he scored regularly with his uncanny shooting ability, but, since falling into a 12-game slump, his status as a budding superstar has plunged.

Impatient fans criticize him ruthlessly on social media, talk radio and between-period conversations in the rink concourses. They say he should be benched, demoted to the Moose or traded to another team. Unfortunately, Laine hears the public criticism, and this likely erodes the confidence that is crucial at the elite level of pro hockey.

Fans who are patient recognize Laine is only 20 years old and under tremendous psychological pressure. They withhold criticism and will help Laine rebuild his confidence by cheering loudly, perhaps even standing in ovation, for his first few goals when he resumes scoring regularly.

It’s not just a slumping hockey hero who needs our patience. Family and friends within our personal orbit would likely appreciate us cutting them slack.

Much chocolate and many flowers were given on Thursday, but it’s probable many people who received Valentine’s Day gifts would have preferred we offer them the gift of more patience. That would grant them space to be different from our expectations, to let them grow into their true selves even when they think differently from us.

I’ve learned to appreciate my wife’s strong grasp of patience. She has an astute sense of when to act and when to let it be. Her patience has been honed through many years of backyard gardening that taught her to adapt to the rhythms of nature. She often deals with life in the same way as she gardens — plant a seed, water and weed, and patiently wait for the situation to bloom.

Many of us city dwellers have lost touch with the rhythms of nature and have instead become enslaved to the drumbeat of technology, which has an unrelenting pace that seems to make us impatient. When we click a command on our computer and it takes 10 seconds to respond, we’re irritated at the slow response.

People used to post letters to out-of-town family and friends, and patiently wait for a reply. Today, we fire off cyber-communication and get irked if our texts are not answered within moments.

Television viewers used to wait patiently to view the next episode of their favourite program, which was broadcast once a week. It built anticipation. Now, all episodes are available for streaming, so impatient viewers don’t have to wait.

Friendship used to be a precious bond that blossomed when both parties invested lots of time and trust. Today, people on Facebook have dozens or even hundreds of “friends.” When it’s quick and shallow, that’s cheap friendship.

While it’s true our absorption in technology makes us impatient for new stimulation — some people continue looking at their phones even when they use the bathroom — it would be going too far to generalize and say patience is a lost virtue. For instance, I recently saw an admirable display of group patience in the Superstore on McPhillips Street.

It was Saturday, always a busy grocery day, and three or four carts were backed up at each cashier. In the line next to me, a young mother was coping with a toddler who was throwing a tantrum. She tried to distract the boy with calm cooing, with a stuffed toy and a cracker she had pulled from her bag, but nothing worked and the screaming continued.

Wonderfully, none of the dozens of people within earshot of the spectacle appeared irritated at the inability of the mother to quell her son. And then a grey-haired woman backed her cart out of line and said: “You go ahead, hon.” And the next person also gave up his place in line. And so did the next person.

Thanks to the display of patience and compassion from strangers, the young mother went directly to the cashier without waiting. She looked back at the people who let her cut in line, smiled and said, “Thank you.” At least, I think that’s what she said. It was hard to hear her words because the kid was still yelling and he had the lungs of a future opera singer.

Carl DeGurse is a member of the Free Press editorial board.

carl.degurse@freepress.mb.ca