After years of being involved in Rotary, serving as president of several non-profit organizations, working as a newspaper publisher, guiding walking tours through Victoria, raising a family, and now enjoying life as a grandfather too, I’ve come to believe something pretty simple:

People are not meant to do life alone.

You see it everywhere once you start paying attention. I saw it during my years in the newspaper business. A community newspaper was never really just about headlines or advertising. It was about people. Local stories. Local victories. Local heartbreaks. It celebrated volunteers, local heroes, struggling businesses, school events, fundraisers, and all the little things that made a town feel connected.

Back then, communities felt smaller in the best possible way.

People knew their neighbours.
People talked face to face.
People showed up.

Today, I worry we’re slowly losing some of that.

We live in a world where everybody is supposedly “connected,” yet many people feel lonelier than ever. We sit in restaurants staring at phones. Families sit together while everyone scrolls different screens. Friends communicate through emojis instead of conversations.

Social media promised to bring us closer together, but in many ways it’s done the opposite.

Instead of building real community, it often creates comparison, division, outrage, and surface-level relationships. We know what someone had for lunch but have no idea if they’re actually doing okay. We collect followers but sometimes barely know the people living next door.

And our devices never stop demanding attention.

Every beep, buzz, notification, headline, and video clip pulls us away from the people physically around us. Little by little, genuine human connection gets replaced with distraction.

I honestly think it’s one of the biggest reasons communities don’t feel as strong as they once did.

Because real community takes time.
It takes conversations.
It takes showing up.
It takes listening.

And none of those things happen very well when everybody’s attention is somewhere else.

I still see glimpses of what real connection can look like though.

I see it on my walking tours when strangers start laughing together halfway through the tour like they’ve known each other for years. I see it at Rotary meetings when members rally around someone facing illness or hardship. I see it in volunteer groups where people still give their time simply because they care about others.

And honestly, sometimes I even see it standing downtown talking to someone who simply needed another human being to acknowledge them.

Connection matters.

After decades of working with communities, charities, businesses, service clubs, and people from every walk of life, I’m convinced the best parts of life have always involved other people.

Raising our boys with Nita.
Laughing around a dinner table.
Working alongside volunteers trying to improve the community.
Meeting visitors from around the world while wandering through Chinatown or the Inner Harbour.
Watching people step up when somebody needs help.

Those moments are what stay with you.

I think that’s why organizations built around service and connection still matter so much today. Whether it’s Rotary, a church, a volunteer organization, a neighbourhood group, or even just a regular coffee gathering, those places create something people are desperately searching for now:

Belonging.

Not perfection. Belonging.

And maybe rebuilding stronger communities starts with some very simple things:
Putting the phone down more often.
Talking instead of texting once in a while.
Checking in on neighbours.
Joining local organizations.
Volunteering.
Making eye contact.
Actually listening.

Small things matter.

As a tour guide, I often tell visitors that Victoria still carries an old-fashioned sense of community underneath all the growth and tourism. People still smile at each other here. People still stop to chat. There’s still some heart left in this city.

I hope we never lose that.

Because at the end of the day, I don’t think people will remember us for how busy we were, how many followers we had, or how polished our online lives looked.

They’ll remember whether we made people feel welcome.
Whether we cared.
Whether we showed up.
Whether we helped create connection in a world that desperately needs more of it.

And honestly, that may be one of the most meaningful things any of us can leave behind.