Twenty years ago this month, I fell into politics. I’d known for some time that something was coming, something was changing in my life. Every time I felt into it, I got an image of myself in a canoe, being told to lie down, and not even peek over the edge to see where the river would take me. Just let the river flow. If I’d known I’d come ashore into politics, I’d have paddled furiously in the opposite direction.
I grew up in a Conservative family, my father a card carrying member of the Progressive Conservatives. (They don’t call themselves “progressive” anymore, by the way, just “Conservative Party of Canada”.) The family tradition was so solid that I believed I was not allowed to voice any other opinion, or even ask questions. (Like the time I was reprimanded for asking why Baptists only baptize adults, when I was trying to find answers for an Anglican friend in my high school Art class. Sorry, Mom and Dad. I still remember being shut down for asking. I love you, but….)
In 2005, I was upset with both the Liberal government and the Conservative opposition. Something had to be done. In the moment that thought crossed my mind, it was as if I heard these words from on high, “Well, you could run!”
Run? Who could I run with? I went to my computer to read party platforms, really read them. For the New Democrats (NDP), I could put a check mark next to almost all the items. Plus, Jack Layton was the leader. He seemed authentic and real. He remained so until the day he died. Someone recently said to me that Jack was the only NDP leader who would have made a good Prime Minister, except that he died. I still miss him. Anyway, I immediately sent in my $10 membership fee, and within a few days had met with local party leadership.
After that, I went to see my Daddy. (My mother had been gone for years already.) I said, “Daddy, I have news. You’d better sit down.” His face blanched, and he sat. He probably thought I was dying.
“Daddy, I’ve joined the NDP.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “And I’m going to run.”
In my journal, May 9, 2005, I wrote: “Went to see Daddy. He is surprised but pleased. He’s relieved that I don’t have to make a lot of noise at the convention.” How funny is that? No idea why he’d say that. Maybe someone can explain. I just know he supported me, through not one but two elections, as did the rest of my family, but of course I can’t be sure who actually voted for me.
In this current federal election, some complain that the Liberals are stealing Conservative ideas. I want to tell you a story about that, because the difference is in the details. In 2005, a teacher at a school some distance from me invited me, and other candidates, to speak to his class. When I arrived in the school parking lot, who was also getting out of his car but the Conservative candidate. Someone had misread his calendar. It was my turn with the students, but here we both were, after a long two hour drive.
Now I have to say that the two of us attended the same church. We actually sat in the same pew. I sat on the left, and he on the right. I joke about sometimes circling around and sitting next to him, forcing him to move a little more left. We were good. No animosity.
So in the school parking lot, we agreed we would share the hour with these students. The memory of that event is one of my favourites. The students asked questions, and we would each respond, until finally one of them said it sounded like we were saying the same thing! How could that be? The Conservative and I looked at each other and laughed. The difference is in the details. For example, we both wanted to help parents afford childcare, but our party policies approach that differently. The students learned an important lesson that day.
I ran a good campaign. I took enough votes away from our Liberal incumbent that my friend won the seat. The Conservatives won the election. Soon after that, I joined the choir. We no longer sat in the same pew. He and I rarely spoke of politics, except for one day when I had to tell him about a dream.
I dreamed it was a late fall day. I was shocked to find, in my back yard, the Conservative Prime Minister and a gaggle of men in dark suits, wanting to do an “audit”. They thought I was hiding something, since I had my garden already clean and dug for the coming spring planting. I went to church that Sunday, with the story, and asked my friendly Member of Parliament to tell the Prime Minister to stay out of my garden. We had a chuckle. I doubt he told the PM a thing.
As our April 28, 2025 federal election approaches, I am still asking questions. I’ve learned enough over the years to know that no matter which party is in power, people will blame them for policies of the previous government, or, for that matter, for the state of our roads and the lack of doctors, which, by the way, are provincial decisions, not federal. Currently, with Canada in economic war with our old “friend” south of the border, I have to make my decision based on which leader seems most capable of leading in a time of war. My choice is between a man with a PhD in economics from Oxford who has loads of experience, versus a man with a Bachelor’s degree and no experience at all, outside of politics.
Regardless of who wins this election, I believe we are headed into new territory. No party, no leader, can save us from the upheaval we are facing, whether it be flood and wildfire, or the collapse of civilization for all the reasons we hesitate to even imagine. It’s a question of which leader and which set of policies could carry us best into an uncertain future.
Dream Bringer’s Studio 