Every time I see candles being lit symbolizing lives lost it cuts me to the heart.
A fragile candle is probably the best way to illustrate how easy and fast the light of our lives can be snuffed out. Our bodies are made to be strong and sturdy, and I heard it’s quite difficult to kill someone with bare hands. It’s almost impossible to hit something hard enough while running to cause fatal injuries.
However, the civilization took us far ahead and in comparison to our equipment, technologies and other fruits of the progress we became highly breakable. And candles get lit every day all over the world in memory of somebody’s loved ones who didn't have to die.
Last Sunday, I was watching 48 of them glimmering in the blowing snow. Unlike many people in Estevan and the area, I didn’t know any of these men and women whose names were read off the list of 2018 workplace fatalities. I got to know of them only after they died. And that’s often the case for most of us. We don’t take things seriously, until it’s too serious and usually too late.
The Day of Mourning ceremony made me once again think about safety and the attitude about it.
In the contemporary system when it comes to safety we mainly rely on regulations and inspections. There are specially trained people whose job is to analyze the situation, come up with safety instructions, talk about them and then check if everything is in place. Usually, at least something isn’t, which gives them work and irritates those, “who are trying to work here.”
We spend about a quarter of our lifetime at work, so of course, safety at the workplace has to be a priority, but it is vital everywhere, and our attitude about it actually starts at home. However, how often do we tend to put up to the system?
It’s upsetting when budget cuts result in a decrease in the number of safety inspectors because it feels like “nobody cares” much if we get hurt or die at work. It’s upsetting if fines are not high enough, to make sure that everybody is obeying the existing rules. But why do we need external forces to make us care about safety?
Remember the reaction you had when you were a teenager and mom or dad asked you to drive safe or to put a hat on to not get sick, or to avoid dangerous trails while hiking or blah blah blah. I used to roll my eyes, then did what I could, demonstrating how much I hate it, and in some cases did the opposite after I got out of my parents’ sight. Stupid? I know. How often do teenagers do that? Too often.
I grew up and… Well, I quit rolling my eyes and I learned how to keep a poker face on when I was listening about safety, but that childish attitude about safety being “boring” or “too much,” it was still there.
The habit to turn a deaf ear to safety talks persisted when my lifestyle has changed and I found myself spending more time exploring the world of tools and equipment. One day, I was trying to unbolt a bunch of old bolts using an impact, when after 30 of them the 31st bolt decided to spit something into my eye. I didn’t realize what it was and just kept doing what I was doing. But the eye was watering and hurting so at 3 a.m. I ended up in the hospital with the doctor pulling a piece of rusty metal out. Of course, there was no life threat. But as sad as it is, I lost the twenty-twenty vision that I was so proud of before.
Until then I actually never thought why there were clear glasses all over the place. I never considered using coveralls for anything except for keeping my clothes clean, and I didn’t understand why someone insisted on putting at least runners on instead of flip flops (it was so hot).
Thankfully, I had just a minor injury, but it was enough to make me rethink the attitude on safety I had since childhood.
When kids are small we try to make everything around them safe. But later, safety turns into a game. The goal is to outplay “stupid” adults, and those adults, who show ways around it or just drop the rules, they are the best.
While still young, we rarely get to talk about implications of most of the dangerous choices or actually get the danger explained to us (I don’t count "lectures” on safety, I usually zoned out of most of those). Instead of an insightful conversation too often it’s easier to forbid, saying, “it’s bad,” “it’s dangerous,” “it’s unsafe.” And later in life, we learn on our own mistakes, hoping that the price we or people around us pay for these mistakes is not too high.
Safety is everybody's job. So how about zero candles?
