In The Press

Men’s Shed movement helps in fight against loneliness

URBAN AFFAIRS REPORTER

OLIPHANT, ONT.

PUBLISHEDJanuary 2,2024

Dave Drawbell, 73, Scott Elliott, 67, and Jim Martell, 69, build birdhouses for Nature Conservancy Canada in Oliphant, Ont., on Nov. 23, 2023.

IAN WILLMS/THE GLOBE AND MAIL

Men can struggle to make and maintain friends, but this global network of social clubs aims to change that.

On the face of it, the three men are building houses for birds. But really they’re building social bonds.

Down a quiet road near the summer vacation community of Sauble Beach, Ont., the men saw, sand, drill and nail. A sheepadoodle named Bailey swerves excitedly between their legs, and the scent of sawdust mingles with the smell of chili wafting from a slow cooker on the workbench.

The wooden nest boxes are being built for the non-profit Nature Conservancy of Canada and will become shelter for eastern bluebirds or great crested flycatchers. That was just the excuse for having the gathering, though.

“I’m retired. I really like the idea of hanging out with people,” said Jim Martell, a former correctional officer. “I think people just want the fellowship.”

The three men were newer members at a meeting of the Bruce Men’s Shed, part of a growing international phenomenon that aims to give lonely guys a social outlet.

The Men’s Shed movement began in Australia and now numbers in the thousands globally. They are expanding fast in Ontario, helped by volunteers who spread the word from town to town. Every Men’s Shed is different – there doesn’t even have to be an actual shed – and one might focus on welding while another just involves coffee and conversation.

The idea is simple: a place to go, guys to talk to, something to do.

The Bruce Men’s Shed formed earlier this year, and one of its leaders, Gerry Tilmans, said members are still figuring out what they want it to be. During other meet-ups, this shed has made model planes and cars, heard speakers on topics as varied as hydroponics and the history of the Second World War-era spy facility Camp X in Ontario and built a vessel for a cardboard boat race. The boat didn’t finish, but the group sorties on undaunted.

The need for such outlets is evident, with loneliness increasingly recognized as a serious health issue. The WHO and other health authorities say it poses an increased risk analogous to smoking as many as 15 cigarettes a day.

Research from the National Institute on Ageing warns that older people are particularly at risk, finding that 58 per cent of Canadians over 50 have experienced loneliness and 41 per cent are at risk of social isolation. A recent meeting of Toronto’s Board of Health heard that 400,000 city residents – about one in seven people – have no family or friends to call on for help.

While both genders can fall prey to loneliness, a body of research suggests men are particularly susceptible. Experts say this is because men tend not to be as diligent about making and maintaining friends, are less comfortable being open about their emotions and can tie too much of their identity into their work, leaving them adrift in retirement.

A road along the shore of Lake Huron, in Oliphant.IAN WILLMS/THE GLOBE AND MAIL

This has long been identified as an issue, and efforts to help men get in touch with themselves, and each other, go back decades. Some of these have not stood the test of time – the days of Iron John and dudes drumming in the woods are long past – but the problem persists.

Men’s sheds tend to take a simple approach. No sweat lodges or spirit quests. And while it can come off a bit manly man stereotypical, with guys doing guy stuff, no one tells the individual sheds how to spend their time. A saying often heard when talking to organizers and participants is if you’ve seen one shed, you’ve seen one shed.

The idea came to Canada in 2010. The founder of the country’s first, in Winnipeg, Doug Mackie says his family heard about the concept and prodded him.

“When my daughter said, ‘Dad, open one,’ I knew that there was a need,” he recalled. “I live alone, so I understand about loneliness.”

Mr. Mackie is now 83, in keeping with a men’s shed crowd that tends to skew older – though John Peters, who heads Men’s Sheds Ontario, says the movement welcomes anyone “18 years and older who identifies as male.”

Some men are pushed to attending sheds by their wives. Others are widowers referred by bereavement support.

After Alan Marrison’s wife died, his counsellor asked whether he had any single male friends. He could name only one, he realized, and that person didn’t really live near enough to visit. The counsellor then recommended a men’s shed in North Toronto. Fast-forward a few years and Mr. Marrison is running it.

On a recent morning he sat in a room at the Better Living community centre, one of nine older guys trading jokes and talking politics. This one was a shed-less shed, more kaffeeklatsch than craft shop. In keeping with the times, the Zoom portion of the gathering suffered tech failure.

But for those who made it in person, it was clearly an important social outlet. One guy sparked laughs as he told a story about bootlegging Pringles potato chips across the border back in the day. Another was gently mocked for his maudlin sweater, decorated with a cat. A third grew emotional recalling how he still regrets, decades later, not having the nerve to tell Oscar Peterson how much of a fan he was after seeing him in the street.

On one level it’s inconsequential chit-chat. But how much conversation is profound? This had the easy rapport of guys just happy to see each other.

“It really filled a big void,” Mr. Marrison said. “There’s two fellows, after the shed we go to Swiss Chalet and have lunch.”