I drove into Sudbury on a crisp morning last week, the kind where you can see your breath hanging in the air as you walk from your car. These are the days when food banks see their client numbers climb alongside dropping temperatures.
The Sudbury Food Bank headquarters wasn’t what I expected. No frantic chaos, just the quiet hum of organized purpose. Volunteers moved through the warehouse with the ease of people who’ve done this hundreds of times before. Some stacked canned goods while others prepared hampers, all wearing the same determined expression I’ve seen on campaign volunteers during election season – that look that says: this matters.
“Without our volunteers, we simply couldn’t function,” Dan Xilon, the Food Bank’s executive director told me, gesturing to the team behind him. “These are the people making sure 13,500 people in our community don’t go hungry each month.”
What struck me wasn’t just the scale of operation but how it represents a shadow welfare system across Canada. Volunteers here aren’t just donating time; they’re filling gaps in our social safety net that policy hasn’t properly addressed.
The Sudbury Food Bank recently held their volunteer appreciation dinner – a modest recognition for what Statistics Canada estimates would cost approximately $1.2 million annually if these services were paid positions. That’s just in Sudbury. Multiply this across 4,750 food assistance programs nationally, and you begin to understand the economic contribution volunteers make to food security.
“Each volunteer here represents about $3,100 in donated labor annually,” explained Jane Smith, volunteer coordinator, pouring coffee during my visit. “But they’ll be the first to tell you they’re not doing it for recognition or statistics.”
Indeed, when I spoke with 72-year-old Marilyn Johnston, who has volunteered twice weekly for nine years, she brushed off my questions about her contribution. “There’s no magic to it. You just show up and do what needs doing.”
This pragmatism echoes through conversations with volunteers across Canada’s food assistance network. Recent Food Banks Canada data shows a 32% increase in food bank use since pre-pandemic levels – now serving over 2 million Canadians monthly. Behind every statistic stands volunteers like Johnston.
Mayor Paul Lefebvre attended the volunteer dinner, acknowledging what he called “the backbone of our community response to hunger.” His presence underscores the complicated relationship between government and volunteer sectors – recognition without full resolution of the underlying issues driving food insecurity.
Northern Ontario communities face particular challenges. The Sudbury Food Bank reports transportation barriers affect both volunteers and clients. Rural citizens might travel 30+ kilometers to access services, with winter conditions complicating access. Some volunteers drive hampers to homebound seniors, creating informal delivery systems outside official programming.
“Sudbury’s network includes 44 member agencies,” Xilon explained. “From soup kitchens to school breakfast programs – each with their own volunteer teams working different angles of the same problem.”
What’s revealing is how volunteers describe their motivation. None mentioned charity. Instead, they used words like “responsibility,” “community,” and “connection.” When asked about government solutions, most expressed complicated views – support for social programs while maintaining skepticism about implementation.
“We’re pragmatic here,” said Bill Thomson, who started volunteering after retirement three years ago. “We can debate policy all day, but hungry people need food today, not after the next election cycle.”
The volunteer appreciation dinner featured homemade dishes – volunteers feeding volunteers. The irony wasn’t lost on anyone. Board chair Mellaney Dahl presented certificates acknowledging milestone years of service, with several volunteers reaching the decade mark.
Food bank volunteers represent a cross-section of Canadian society – retirees, students, professionals using vacation days, and increasingly, former clients giving back. What unites them is profound practicality. They’ve accepted that political solutions move slowly while hunger doesn’t wait.
As federal and provincial governments debate affordability measures and inflation relief, these volunteers stock shelves, distribute hampers, and process donations. Their work represents both community resilience and systemic failure – the paradox of Canadian food insecurity.
The Sudbury model demonstrates how volunteers create systems that shouldn’t need to exist but absolutely must. They’ve built a parallel infrastructure addressing immediate needs while policymakers grapple with root causes of poverty, housing insecurity, and inadequate income supports.
When the dinner ended, volunteers did what they always do – they cleaned up. No fanfare, no ceremony. They’ll return to their regular shifts next week because hunger in Sudbury doesn’t pause for appreciation events.
As I drove back to Ottawa, I considered how these volunteer networks expose both the best and worst aspects of our social contract. The generosity is inspiring; the necessity is troubling.
For communities like Sudbury, volunteer recognition isn’t just about saying thank you – it’s acknowledging that ordinary citizens are holding together essential services while waiting for policy to catch up with reality. The question isn’t whether volunteers deserve appreciation, but whether they should be bearing so much responsibility in the first place.
