Wheels Down at YYC, And the World Is Watching
We landed last night at YYC, Calgary International Airport, after two weeks away. As we taxied to the gate, the flight attendant reminded us of heightened security. And out the window, there it was: a surreal row of state aircraft on the tarmac. Not your standard vacation arrival scene. But a congregation of global power, because this week, the world has landed in Alberta for the G7.
It hit me with full force: the weight of what’s happening, and what could happen.
In just a few days, we’ve watched chaos multiply. A devastating air crash in India. The horrifying escalation in Los Angeles, where American soldiers were deployed against their own citizens. A grotesque Trump parade that felt more like a despotic flex than any kind of public appearance. The worsening spiral in the Middle East. And yes, the shootings in Minnesota, this time aimed at left political figures and a written manifesto targeting progressive leaders and institutions.
Meanwhile, the G7 summit tries to hold its shape, though let’s be honest: how do you even draft an agenda when every day feels like a geopolitical earthquake?
But looking at those aircraft stirred something else in me: hope.
Because Canada isn’t just the host of the G7 this year. We’re a moral compass in a disoriented world. And it matters that we have Mark Carney at the table, a leader who understands markets, yes, but more importantly, understands moments. This is one.
And this year, it’s not just the G7 countries in the room. Leaders like Claudia Sheinbaum of Mexico, stepping onto the world stage as her country’s first female president, and Volodymyr Zelenskyy of Ukraine, who embodies resilience under fire, are here too. The room isn’t just filled with power, it’s filled with potential.
This post, this messy, overdue, emotionally splattered post, isn’t just about what’s gone wrong. It’s about where I’m placing my hope this week: in a summit happening under the shadow of the Rockies, in a country that believes power is measured in vision, not volume. In leaders who don’t have to scream to be heard.
And Canadians, whatever your stripe, you should be grateful that we are not living under a Trump-style authoritarian. And very worried that a Poilievre-style one is knocking, armed with a slogan and no costed plan. (That door leads to a basement. No windows. No exit.)
Last week in Mexico, I had some striking conversations with Americans. Many were decent. Many overwhelmed. And too many who have simply checked out. “I trust others will figure it out,” one said. That’s exactly how democracies die.
And I get it. I know who reads my posts. Boomers-thank you for showing up. But we need the younger generations to plug in, to push, to care. Because this isn’t abstract anymore. It’s here. It’s visible from seat 11F at YYC. It’s loud, close, and dangerous.
I can’t cover everything I’m feeling. But I can stake a flag in this moment. The world has come to Alberta. And somewhere, on that tarmac, among those flags and fuselages, sits a fragile opportunity for leadership to matter again. I came home encouraged by small conversations. I came home discouraged by large events. But I’m here, grateful, grounded, and not giving up.
Because if we can’t recognize the stakes now, while the world’s leaders are literally parked outside our arrivals gate, then when exactly do we plan to wake the hell up?
Nancy's Notes 