Along the Shore

One Small Step participants Scott Benolken [LEFT] and Steve Fernland outside WTIP after their conversation. | SUBMITTED

By Rae Poynter

GRAND MARAIS—It’s no secret that political polarization has increased in recent years. With more people divided along ideological lines, political tension has become a constant undercurrent. One doesn’t have to spend long on social media–or anywhere online–to find examples of this. But while this chasm seems to grow ever larger, some are building the bridges we need to cross it. One example of this is StoryCorps’ One Small Step. An initiative to bring people together across political lines, One Small Step offers the opportunity to have a conversation with someone who holds differing views. This year, WTIP in Grand Marais became a participant in One Small Step, bringing these conversations closer to home.

Barbara Jean Meyers has been managing the One Small Step initiative at WTIP. According to Meyers, the idea to get involved with StoryCorps’ One Small Step came through Matthew Brown, WTIP’s executive director; a colleague of Brown’s at the National Federation of Community Broadcasters reached out to let him know about the initiative, and that StoryCorps was looking for radio stations to participate.

“I read through the project and it sounded incredible,” Meyers said. “StoryCorps is a fantastic organization. This seemed like an amazing opportunity to make a difference in a time when our society is increasingly polarized and fractured.”

WTIP applied and was accepted, and Meyers started working on bringing One Small Step to Cook County in 2022. The process starts with community members applying to participate in a 50-minute conversation. The application includes questions about participants’ backgrounds, and Meyers works as a matchmaker to bring together conversation partners. The pairs typically hold divergent views but also have some common ground. Once the two participants find a time to meet, they begin the conversation facilitated by Meyers or by her assistant, Martha Marnocha.

“There are four touchstones that help break the ice,” Meyers said. “At the beginning, the participants start by asking each other why the other signed up. In the application process you write a short bio, and each person reads the other’s introduction out loud in first person so you step into their shoes for a moment.”

After that, each participant asks the other about the most influential people in their life, and then they ask each other to articulate their personal political values.

“And then they’re off to the races,” Meyers said. “The conversation can be freeform, otherwise as the facilitator I have backup questions they can use if they need more structure.”

While these conversations bring up differing viewpoints, they are not a debate. Rather, One Small Step conversations are a chance to find common ground and see the humanity in someone you would never have envisioned connecting with. Often, the similarities are greater than each participant would have thought.

“Everybody is doing the best that they can and wants what’s best for their community and their loved ones. When you sit down on an even playing field and talk about your lives and the things that shaped you, people find they have a tremendous amount in common. It’s a beautiful place to start a discussion from,” Meyers said. “We recently called some past participants, and they were all so positive and had wonderful things to say. Many of the participants have become friends on Facebook or gone out to coffee with their conversation partner and have gained a new friend from a circle that they wouldn’t have before.”

So far, WTIP has done around a dozen facilitated conversations, with the goal to do 25 in total by the end of the year. That means there’s room for more participants to sign up, and participants don’t have to live in Cook County. Meyers said they’ve had a few people from Lake County and have people in the application pool from Duluth.

As far as what happens with the recordings, that’s up to the participants–the purpose of One Small Step is to be a community service project, not to gather tape. Participants are under no obligation to share their conversations with anyone, but those that are willing can have their conversation archived in the StoryCorps database and in the Library of Congress.

They say change starts small, and One Small Step is just that–a step away from polarization and toward common ground.

“I’m so grateful to everyone who has taken this step,” Meyers said. “It takes a lot of courage to do that and I believe we’re making a difference.”

Learning more about the initiative at: wtip.org.

By Peter Fergus-Moore

THUNDER BAY—Ted Reguly made a decision. Medically assisted dying was now legal in the province of Ontario, and as he was terminally ill, he told his family, “This might be an option for me.”

“I was shocked!” his widow Carol remembers. “And I said to him, ‘What are you saying?’”

What indeed? Practically physically incapacitated, his body swollen from organ failure brought on by liver cancer, the 80-year-old Reguly had chanced upon a newspaper article on Medical Assistance in Dying (MAiD) in mid-February, 2022. Aghast, his wife was originally opposed to the idea.

“But it was his choice,” she continues, “his life and quality of life, of which there was none near the end. And I respected it.”

“Dad couldn’t even go out and do the simple things he loved, like his morning coffee at McDonalds, and getting his sport tickets,” his daughter Lorraine Reguly says.

Lorraine immediately began researching MAiD. In Canadian law, there are strict eligibility criteria, including especially the soundness of mind and the stated voluntary intention of the sufferer. Two doctors must independently examine and assess the person’s condition as either being a debilitating terminal illness like that of Reguly, or a long-term illness or condition without hope of recovery. Physical or psychological suffering without hope of change is also part of the eligibility criteria.

Lorraine worked to help her father through the process of being accepted for assisted death. In the end, it was her father’s expressed request that the procedure be done.

When the time came, the doctor performing the procedure asked once more if this was what Reguly wanted. He affirmed it, and as the IVs were installed, he responded, “I know what you’re giving me. I’m ready.”

Reguly died peacefully on March 31, 2022.

“MAiD was a blessing to have as an option,” Lorraine says. “It was his wish to have it.”

“MAiD is a coin in your pocket,” says Sheila Noyes. “You may not need it, but it’s a comfort in knowing that while death is bad enough, you shouldn’t have to be afraid of how the end will come.”

Noyes is a member and former co-president of Dying with Dignity, a Canadian organization originally devoted to changing Canadian law to make assisted death legal and accessible. Nowadays, it is still involved in advocacy, particularly in getting the law amended to allow advance requests. As well, according to their website, Dying with Dignity provides information on such matters as MAiD legalities in different regions, since assisted death is part of provincial health care systems that are not identical across the country.

Like Reguly, Noyes’ mother and later her younger sister were in debilitating, extremely painful terminal conditions. At that time, MAiD was not legal in Canada and any attempt to assist death was punishable by a 10-year prison sentence. Noyes vowed that she would fight to see the law change, and after many years and many people involved in campaigning, has lived to see assisted death a legal reality.

But while assisted dying reduces or eliminates much complication around end-of-life choices, there are still things to consider, as well as how it will be for their surviving families.

“Palliative care isn’t enough in many situations,” says Noyes, “Though it might be helpful or needful at first.”

“If you are going with the MAiD option, it’s better to do it early, before it all gets ugly,” says Lorraine. “That’s what I would tell families in our situation.”

One of the realities that originally galvanized Noyes into action was learning exactly how her loved ones were going to die, regardless of medical intervention. She feels that any individuals and families unsure of resorting to MAiD ought to get that information from medical personnel.

“Once you know that (it will be a terribly difficult end),” she adds, “you can plan accordingly.”

Across the border, the Minnesota state legislature is about to debate the Minnesota End-of-Life Option Act through the fall. Minnesota lawmakers are said to be basing their proposed law on the model provided by Colorado, the first state in the U.S. to enact assisted death legislation. Such legislation is now being considered by many states.

North of the border, both Noyes and the Reguly family are deeply grateful for the existence of MAiD and the provision of a peaceful, suffering-reduced death for anyone in their situations.