A beating update. It’s been a month now.

The guy who handed me my ass, kicked me in the head as I lay in an Old Town ditch and creamed my eyeball was arrested. He was charged. Now, it’s up to the courts.

I filed a victim impact statement, which felt completely weird. It’s the first time in my lengthy life that I’ve ever been a victim. “Just don’t call yourself a survivor,” said Dorothy. “Don’t be a drama queen.”

This is why we have spouses.

Unknown is when the legal system might deal with this guy (who lives four blocks away), or the outcome. I saw the cop who handled the case when he was walking the beat in the early morning sunshine on Queen Street. “Out of my hands now,” he said, “but I’m attaching your statement to my report and submitting it all.”

“I saw that you wrote about the assault,” he added. “That was pretty good.”

Yeah, and good did come out of the bad, as I detailed. Neighbours and strangers hugged me. They dropped off cookies. They came to the door. People lent support online. They helped identify the perp. And now it’s time to move on.

That was my thought when I asked Mr. Editor not to publish a news article about my assault, and the guy who did it. Enough already, I said.

But he refused. “We don’t do ‘favours’ like that,” his email barked. “It’s not ethical, and how would we be able to hold our heads high? That’s a slippery slope into losing all integrity. And it ain’t happening.”

So, it didn’t. The perp’s name appeared in print. The news spread.

“Are you the guy who was assaulted?” a woman asked, in an unexpected phone call a few nights ago. “I’m his daughter and he’s done this before. It’s what broke up our family.”

I mused on the fact that I’d walked past his house a hundred times, maybe two hundred, on my daily treks. Now I can’t stop looking around in case his silver car again blocks my path and he emerges.

The kindness and support in the past few weeks made me wonder: are we unique in our society in abhorring violence and supporting those who encounter it? Are we inherently more peaceful than, say, the Americans who live next door (and populate downtown NOTL)? More ethical and moral, or just delusional and conceited in our misplaced maple superiority?

Someone sent me a chart of nations ranked by “morality.” Canada was at the top, with a large majority of citizens believing their neighbours are moral.

Is that realistic?

Canada has its share of racism, anti-immigrant sentiment and a growing white supremacist movement here in town, which I have chronicled. Folks muse openly about cutting off our foreign aid to less-favoured nations, and slashing the money allocated to support the Indigenous population.

The stuff published online against those of Indian or Southeast Asian heritage is intense and disturbing. And how about the hatred between generations, as boomers are blamed for every house that costs too much? Meanwhile, we think it’s completely moral and ethical to cheat on taxes, game the system and screw the government.

Are we better, or just pretending to be so? Maybe living beside the MAGA nation to the south would make anyone look pristine.

Well, this is the last time I’ll visit this topic. Just wanted you to know I’m good. Thanks.

Lessons? You bet.

I’ve learned how generous and thoughtful people are.

I’m grateful it was only a beating, not a disease.

I better understand how some people need mental help.

And I sure know where not to walk.

Garth Turner is a NOTL resident, journalist, author, wealth manager and former federal MP and minister. garth@garth.ca