Reminiscing on a morning bus ride, negotiating new directions

Thoughts about re-tracing steps, and moments of change

The “Rock Pile on Belleville” more famously known as the British Columbia Legislative Assembly.

“Four more years? You’ve got four more years, eh?” She asked.

I have knocked on her door asking for her vote four times over the past 16 years. Two municipal elections, and two provincial elections.

“Of course!” I blurted out.

What’s another four years? Right? Politicians always seem fit and ready to go another four years.

For her it might have been a recognition of the years that passed. But little did she know how square her question landed with me. It arrived to me in a context unlike the lead up to any of the previous elections.

Politically, the provincial discourse last Spring had become toxic with small-minded, short-sighted, swamp politics. In an effort to destroy each other, the leaders of the BC United and BC Conservatives, decided to pull a familiar scapegoat into their ugly public battle—First Nations. It was an awful experience.

Personally, in the months leading up, three influential men who had orbited my social-system since they were born, had recently passed away, each in their own tragic way. They were fathers, leaders, and contributors to our community. When I started adding four years to everyone in my life, I realized what four more years really meant!

So as I walked up the driveway, instead of delighting in yet another lawn sign location, her question became an anchor tethering me to the end of that driveway.

One day in Question Period, I looked up at the video screen in the legislative chamber. I saw my colleague Sonia Furstenau standing in her place asking one of her thoughtful and sharp questions.

I saw myself sitting in the seat to her left—I looked overweight, unshaven, exhausted, angry, and ten years older than I am. When I first walked through those doors, I had a bounce in my step, and a smile on my face. In that moment, I followed the leash back to the end of the driveway in Brentwood. What would that guy be in four more years?

I had to get ready extra early this morning. My Harbour Air flight was at 7:45am. That means I had to take the 6:15am #75 bus from Verdier down to the Parliament buildings in the Victoria inner harbour.

It was a flashback to last Spring. Waiting for the same bus, at the same bus stop. The same former municipal colleague passed by with his dog, merrily greeting me and the day. The same familiar faces arrived on the bus, in the same order they always arrived. The same ‘Chill’ playlist offered the soundtrack to my morning commute. But, instead of heading down to work in the big old rock pile, I am off to Vancouver. Today, the Union of BC Indian Chiefs is hosting a seminar for First Nations negotiators.

It has been an interesting transition out of public facing politics. Shifting seats at the table from elected official to negotiator, has come with its share of opportunity, challenge, and surprise.

As the bus whizzes past the election signs of hopeful federal candidates vying to be the next Member of Parliament, it is odd to be retracing my steps one year later.

Over that time, the state of global politics has significantly eroded. The order of the past 70 years has been disrupted, creating less certainty and stability everywhere.

Against that backdrop, I have focused my attention toward the community that raised me. My adventure today is building the relationships and the skills I need to occupy my new seat supported by strategy, organization, and passion.

In my 16 years in elected public office I have spoken with thousands of constituents. Each interaction has had a profound impact on who I am, and how I see the world. I didn’t knock on many doors after that fateful conversation on the doorstep in Brentwood Bay. You never know what moment is going shape and change the direction of your life.