Multi-Generational Living: Not Just for Rodents

If you’re traveling through Western North America—especially British Columbia—make a stop at Manning Park. Not for the coffee shop, the flush toilets, or even the oversized Adirondack chair (though it does make for a fun photo). The real highlight? The ground squirrels.

These little characters are only awake during the summer, and because they’re so accustomed to humans, they’ll boldly scurry right up to you looking for a handout. (But please resist the urge—feeding them does more harm than good.)

Manning Park is teeming with them—sometimes 60 per hectare (1 hectare = 2.47 acres for our Imperial friends). They’re excellent at warning one another of danger; a single high-pitched call will send the whole colony darting into their elaborate underground tunnels. These burrows aren’t simple holes—they include hibernation chambers and even a “toilet room” for the long winter. In spring, the females raise litters of up to 15 pups, all together as one big extended family.

Of course, life isn’t easy. Ground squirrels have their share of predators—bears, wolves, coyotes, eagles. As my favourite safari guide often says, “everything has to eat.” A harsh truth, but even our adorable squirrels aren’t vegetarians themselves. They survive on berries, nuts, and the occasional bug.

Watching their tight-knit family dynamic made me reflect on my own. A few years ago, we made the decision to live with one of our children and their family. What began out of necessity has turned into a surprisingly rich experience.

Now, let’s be honest: multi-generational living isn’t for everyone. Families can be complicated, and in some cases, unhealthy or unsafe. But I believe it offers an antidote to the individualistic mindset that often shapes North American culture.

Here in Vancouver and across Western Canada, more families are exploring communal living. Rising housing costs play a part, but so does the hard lesson of the 2020 pandemic, when many seniors suffered mental decline—and even passed away—alone in care facilities. That season opened our eyes to the importance of connection.

We’ve now lived this way for over a year, and the benefits have been undeniable:

• Emotional support. Encouragement flows both directions, between young and old.

• Deeper relationships. Daily interactions and small conversations build strong bonds.

• Shared responsibilities. From heavy lifting to watering plants when someone’s away, there’s always a helping hand.

• Financial relief. Pooling resources makes home ownership and expenses more manageable.

• Accessibility. We designed our suite with the future in mind, knowing that one day mobility might become a challenge.

• Better health. Working through challenges has strengthened us personally and communally.

• Generosity. Living together only works if everyone chooses kindness over selfishness.

• Childcare. Built-in grandparents means flexible support—and yes, sometimes free babysitting.

• Aging in comfort. Seniors who stay in familiar, family-centered homes often maintain stronger cognitive health.

  
  

But perhaps the greatest gift is what we learn from one another. The younger generation gains wisdom, patience, and perspective (“this too shall pass”), while we, the older ones, are stretched by their fresh ideas and energy. It keeps us from getting stuck, and reminds us that growth never ends.

Of course, it takes commitment, patience, and sacrifice. It isn’t easy. But anything worthwhile rarely is. And for those who may not live under the same roof, you can still find creative ways to weave multi-generational rhythms into life. Be open. Be generous. Be willing to fall, get up, and try again.

I’d love to hear—how do you practice intentional community where you are?