Doug Taylor – Building a Place Where Men Can Be Themselves

It began simply enough with just a few of us grabbing coffee, meeting outside during the pandemic, and trying to stay connected in an increasingly disconnected world. For me, it was part of a bigger journey. Back when I lived in downtown Edmonton, I learned to adapt to Zoom and outdoor gatherings through my church. That’s where I first discovered the principles of the Men’s Shed connection, conversation, and community.

When I moved to Spruce Grove, I wanted to build something like that here. I didn’t know many people yet, but I figured the best way to change that was to get involved. I started making connections and reaching out, and what I found was incredible. Almost everywhere I went, I was met with genuine welcome and support.

The local social services in Spruce Grove became a goldmine for me. As someone who’s always valued public service, I knew the importance of strong community ties. However, the real breakthrough came when we aligned with TRI CALA (Tri-Community Adult Literacy Association) in Stony Plain. They were emerging from the quiet of COVID-19, and their support became a lifeline, helping us secure grants, establish partnerships, and grow.

We slowly became the Tri Region Men’s Shed Society from a simple coffee group. It wasn’t always a straight path. Some men showed up quietly, barely engaging, their struggles invisible at first — PTSD, anxiety, even homelessness. Others were gently nudged out of their homes by family members who worried they were spending too much time alone.

But they came. And that’s always the beginning.

There are no counsellors here. We’re not professionals, and we don’t try to be. But we’ve built a place where men can be themselves, where they can talk, listen, or sit quietly without anyone pushing them. We share coffee, stories, and the kind of shoulder-to-shoulder connection that means everything.

Some of the men have visible struggles. Others have theirs more quietly. But over time, you see it: The man who used to sit in silence now laughs at a joke. The one who kept his distance now hands a tool to a neighbour. It’s not loud, but it’s real.

We call it “health by stealth.” It’s wellness without the lecture. Shoulder to shoulder, side by side. Sometimes, it’s just a project, but more often, it’s so much more.

The City of Spruce Grove has been supportive, but our biggest ally has been TRI CALA. Through them, we’ve learned about the concept of “social prescribing.” It’s an idea where doctors or social workers can recommend community activities, like our Shed, to help people dealing with loneliness or isolation. It’s a quiet, effective way of healing connection without the clinic.

But not everything is easy. 

We are okay with the space we rent, but it is expensive, which drives us to keep looking. Our latest prospect in the City wasn’t available to our space needs, and while we thought we might help with a linkage with the youth supports, we didn’t strike a match.

Still, we’re here. We’re growing. We’re making a difference.

I’ve seen men come in anxious, unsure, barely willing to engage. And I’ve watched them become a part of this place in name and spirit. They share stories. They lend a hand. They laugh again. During one of our presentations, I had a city councillor cry, saying, “My dad would’ve loved this place.” That’s how I know it resonates. The Shed sells itself because it’s real, and men need it.

We’re not a workforce of older men. We’re not here to fix your fence or shovel your walk. We’re here because men over 60 have the highest suicide rate in the country, and too many of them don’t know where to go when their careers are done, their friends are gone, or their bodies begin to fail them.

We’re here because sitting alone at home, watching television isn’t living.

This Shed is more than just a place. It’s a community. It’s where men reclaim their value. It’s a place of small, quiet victories of men finding themselves again, even when they didn’t know they were lost.

We dream of a permanent home; a space we don’t have to keep chasing. Somewhere, we can grow, expand, and keep offering that sense of purpose for years to come. Because what we’ve built here is worth holding on to.

And if that’s not worth building, I don’t know what is.