Slow and Steady

In 2019, Lloyd Pike and his team won the Regional Curling Championship, beating out teams from London, Ottawa, and Toronto. Their medal is impressive. But what is even more amazing is that every player in this league, including Lloyd, is vision-impaired.

How, I wonder, does a legally-blind team manage to play this sport? How, with such blurred eyesight, can they throw their polished granite rocks in a straight line down the ice? And how do their sweepers steer that sliding rock safely into the target house, while at the same time, knocking their opponents' stones out of the way?

Lloyd tells me that he has been learning the game for over a decade. On a Friday evening during the winter curling season, you will always find him at the Royal Canadian Curling Club on Broadview. Here, working with a coach who both loves the game and enjoys her team, Lloyd has not only learned the strategies of curling but, as the skip of his team, has developed valuable leadership skills. And after each game, as the group meets in the clubhouse for a friendly beer, Lloyd has become adept at building community.

When I interview Lloyd, he gives me the advice he would like to leave with my readers: "Don't give up! Find someone who can coach you – someone you can trust. Or better yet, a buddy so you can help each other. But regardless, keep on trying!" This advice has shaped Lloyd's entire life, and led to some remarkable achievements.

Born in 1958 in Channel-Port aux Basques, Lloyd remembers his hometown as a small settlement on the southwest tip of Newfoundland – an unremarkable place except that the ferry from Nova Scotia docked in its harbour. And with its unprotected wooden houses perched on bare rocks, I can only imagine the winters there as fierce Atlantic storms roared up the eastern seaboard.

Lloyd's early years were equally bleak. His father died when he was four. When his mom moved to Nova Scotia, Lloyd spent a few years at a school for the blind. But later, when the family moved to Toronto, Lloyd, then age 13, was left to struggle in a regular elementary school. Even though Lloyd's desk was always right at the front so he could see the board, even though they found him a few large-print texts, and even though a couple of kind teachers gave him extra help, he didn't learn much – and after a little vocational training, left school at age 17.

The turning point in Lloyd's life did not come until 1981, when he reached out to East End Literacy. They diagnosed his problem – he couldn't read. Somehow, he had slipped through the cracks because of his impaired vision and missed that essential skill. And so, in his early adult years, Lloyd – with the help of volunteer tutors in various literacy agencies – took on a 20-year slog to learn to read. For a child, this task is relatively easy because their young brains are still plastic, allowing new learning to etch in deeply. For an adult, learning to read is always a challenge that takes sheer grit.

But as is typical of Lloyd, he did more than just learn to read. He got involved with literacy efforts in Toronto and, in so doing, developed a host of new skills. He served as a peer tutor, worked on and even chaired the boards of several literacy organizations, gave "lived-experience" speeches to both educators and funders, and in 1990, marched with the literacy community to Queen's Park to mark the International Year of Literacy.

Eventually, in 2011, Lloyd would score his ultimate educational goal. In just two years of what is usually a five-year program, Lloyd graduated from George Brown College with his high school equivalency. His dogged determination had paid off.

The third arena where Lloyd strives towards long-term goals is Regent Park. In 1990, when he moved into the neighbourhood, he got involved through a variety of volunteer jobs: loading Yonge Street Mission's truck with donations for Double Take, leading the Monday bingo at CRC/40 Oaks, and setting up for our annual summer festival, Sunday in the Park. Lloyd also served for many years as the representative for his building, working with the housing authority to get improvements for his fellow tenants.

As he has done all his life, Lloyd remains keen to learn new skills: he relishes occasions for public speaking and the opportunity to co-chair both the Social Development Plan Stakeholders' Table and the Regent Park Neighbourhood Association. Most of all, he is a patient advocate for the many in Regent Park who, like him, struggle with disabilities.

Now, as Lloyd steers a straight course and sweeps vigorously, his polished rock aims towards that most difficult target – to build community in Regent Park. And since Lloyd is already widely respected and appreciated in our neighbourhood, I have reason to hope that just as he has been there for us in countless ways, we – as he grows older – will be there for him. Then Lloyd will genuinely know that all his efforts in Regent Park have finally reached their goal.