Nancy's Notes

“Pipeline Politics and the Power of Principled Disagreement”

So, apparently, we’re having a controversy, and by controversy, I mean one cabinet minister voiced a cautious take on pipelines while the Prime Minister continues pushing for a coordinated, interprovincial approach. Cue the headlines about “division” and “conflict” and all the other things that make clickbait money.

Here’s what actually happened: Prime Minister Mark Carney laid out a plan to streamline infrastructure corridors across Canada, yes, including pipelines, to reduce duplication, respect the environment, and get this country building again. Then along comes Minister Steven Guilbeault, the former Minister of Environment (and longtime environmentalist), suggesting we should still be “very cautious” as we move forward.

Do I smell dysfunction? Nope. What I smell is maturity, the kind of government where not every MP or minister is a Stepford spokesperson.

Because let’s be honest: the last time everyone was in lockstep, we got the Harper era, where MPs needed written permission to speak in the House, and “debate” was code for “don’t get caught disagreeing with the boss.” Or worse, the current GOP model, where party loyalty means kissing the ring of Donald Trump no matter how unhinged, untruthful, or unconstitutional the order of the day might be.

This isn’t that. This is what happens when a government is made up of people, not puppets. When it comes to complex files like energy infrastructure, you’d want a bit of tension between environment and economy. Otherwise, it’s not a balance, it’s a bulldozer.

And let’s be honest, if there wasn’t this kind of internal discussion, we’d be accusing the Liberals of shutting down dissent. Now we’re calling it chaos when a minister brings a different lens? Come on. You can’t call it a dictatorship one week and then whine about healthy disagreement the next.

Now, let me get personal for a second: as I have mentioned before, my husband’s been an inspector in the oil and gas industry for decades. He’s technically bilingual and has worked extensively on integrity projects, including natural gas pipelines in Quebec. And if you ever want to see environmental caution in action, follow him around a Quebec pipeline site.

As he likes to (somewhat sarcastically) say: “Never a frog nor a snake shall be harmed in Quebec pipeline construction — they are gently scooped up, patted on the head, serenaded with apologies, and placed in a five-star frog relocation spa until their habitat is fully restored.”

And you know what? That kind of care matters. That’s the kind of tension between development and preservation that defines a country like Canada, not the screamfest you get in places where science is a partisan trigger word.

We also need to stop pretending pipeline policy is either “drill baby drill” or “shut it all down.” There’s a middle path, a Canadian path and it’s called responsible development. It’s called making decisions that are both pro-growth and pro-planet. And yes, it’s called having different voices at the cabinet table.

So to the people wringing their hands about Guilbeault and Carney not singing the exact same chorus, relax. This is what it looks like when adults talk things out. We need ministers who bring different perspectives to the table, especially when we’re building the very future they’ll be held accountable for.

I don’t need my government to agree on everything. I need them to listen to each other, weigh the evidence, and make the tough calls. And I trust Mark Carney, banker, economist, and no stranger to hard conversations, to be the kind of leader who welcomes that friction. He’s not scared of principled disagreement. Frankly, he’s probably bored without it.

So no, this isn’t dysfunction. This is democracy, and it’s working.

And if the worst thing that happens this week is a cabinet minister showing signs of independent thought? Well, then we’re doing a hell of a lot better than a country where the pipeline to power starts with a lie and ends with a loyalty pledge.

“Pierre Poilievre: The Leader Who Isn’t Here But Also Won’t Leave”

As much as I didn’t want to yesterday, and believe me, I really didn’t, I found myself watching the political equivalent of a soap opera villain refusing to exit stage left. Yes, I watched that press conference. You know the one. Where Pierre Poilievre, who lost both the election and his seat, stepped up to a podium like the guy who gets fired but keeps showing up to the office because his access card still works.

Let’s be clear: he’s not the leader. His party lost. He lost. Full stop. The plan is for him to run in an Alberta by-election (of course), and win, and then stage his grand resurrection tour like some sort of prairie phoenix rising from a flaming pile of misinformation. But in the meantime? We’re told that Andrew Scheer, yes, that Andrew Scheer, is technically in charge.

Now, if Scheer is the interim leader when the House is sitting, does Pierre become the leader when it’s recess? Like some kind of Halloween werewolf situation where the full moon hits and suddenly, bam, he’s back? It’s absurd. And frankly, if Scheer is your stand-in, it’s like choosing margarine when the butter’s gone bad. Still spreadable, but you don’t want it.

Yet, Poilievre persists. He took to the mic, delivered his usual soft-spoken faux-reasonableness, and got back to doing what he does best: declaring everything broken. First it was Canada. Now it’s the government. Soon, I assume, it’ll be gravity.

He attacked Carney’s cabinet like a guy who didn’t get invited to the party, so he stood outside with a megaphone yelling that the music sucks. Never mind that Carney had to manage a complex transition, balancing institutional knowledge, regional representation, gender parity, and subject-area expertise. That’s what real governance looks like. Adults in the room, even if some of them are still unpacking.

No, I don’t love every appointment. But unlike Pierre, I don’t think democracy is a stage play where the sore loser gets to keep delivering monologues while the rest of us are trying to reset the set.

And here’s what really sticks: Poilievre doesn’t even have the grace to acknowledge that Mark Carney is extending him a courtesy he absolutely doesn’t have to. Carney has said he’ll move quickly to get Pierre’s by-election underway, as soon as legally possible. He didn’t have to. By law, he could wait up to six months to call the election and then there would be the election period. But instead, he’s taking the high road, even while Pierre’s still digging the ditch.

Let’s also be clear: this by-election comes with a $2 million price tag. That’s what taxpayers are on the hook for, just so Pierre can claw his way back into relevance. And he can’t even manage a simple thank-you, or, at the very least, a week of silence while the government tries to get back to work.

And all the while, he’s still living in Stornoway. Still acting like he never left. Still pushing the same tired lines about everything being broken, except maybe his own sense of self-awareness.

Honestly, I’d have more respect for him if he just took the summer off. Go fishing. Learn to weld. Take a vow of silence. Do literally anything except hijack our national conversation with another staged rant.

Because you know what’s coming. He’ll win that by-election in Alberta, and then we’ll be treated to photo ops of him and Danielle Smith wandering through golden canola fields like the awkward leads in a low-budget rom-com. (Tagline: “Together, they’ll break the confederation and your will to live.”)

This isn’t leadership. It’s like he’s playing dressup. And we don’t need pretend politicians right now, we need grownups. Builders. People willing to make hard, boring decisions. Not more noise from someone who isn’t even in the room.

So until he gets his seat back, and makes it official, can someone please, please, just unplug his mic?

Because as Mark Carney might say (in a tone far more composed than mine): “I’m a pragmatist.” And pragmatically? The best thing Pierre Poilievre could do for Canada right now… is disappear for a bit.

Pierre Poilievre: still unelected, still uninvited, still unbelievably loud.

Okay Alberta. This isn’t just a missed meeting. It’s a warning sign.

What you’re about to read is a letter written this morning by Patricia Forrest, a proud Inuvialuit woman and a longtime Alberta resident. She’s a mother, a grandmother, a business owner, and someone I consider one of the most extraordinary human beings I know.

She doesn’t self-identify as “political.” But she is deeply aware. Deeply involved. Deeply principled. And when she sees something wrong, she speaks up, not for attention, not for drama, but because she cares. For her family. For her community. For this province.

Today, I read her letter and immediately felt clarity. I didn’t actually have this happen but I have been waiting weeks to hear from my MLA on a Health Ministry issue. Patty’s words reminded me of everything Albertans need to pay attention to right now, because what she experienced isn’t a one-off. It’s the status quo under this current UCP government.

Patty booked a meeting with her MLA, Peter Singh, a man who once came to her door and promised to put constituents first. So she had booked an appointment and taken time off work. She showed up. His office was locked. No one came. No one called. No apology. No explanation. No respect.

If this were the exception, I’d write it off. But it’s not.

This is how it works now in Alberta. Elected officials who don’t respond. Constituency offices that go dark. Decisions made behind closed doors. Premiers who silence dissent. MLAs who toe the line or get tossed aside. And all of it wrapped in a cloak of “accountability” that vanishes the second you try to hold someone to it.

And while Danielle Smith’s government courts conspiracies and whispers sweet nothings about separation, we’re not paying attention to what’s happening right here, right now: ERs are overflowing while hospitals quietly downgrade services. Kids are waiting months for assessments while their classrooms burst at the seams. Parents are paying out-of-pocket for speech therapy, mental health care, and basic educational supports. Seniors are living in facilities with staffing levels that would make your heart ache. And yes, we’re still clawing back $200 from some of the most vulnerable Albertans on AISH.

We are not being represented. We are being managed, and barely. And we need to have the courage to say: enough. Patty did. With decency, directness, and a full heart.

This isn’t just a call-out. It’s a call in, to every Albertan who’s felt ignored, condescended to, or outright erased by the very people elected to serve them.

Let Patty’s words remind us what real leadership looks like. Because if we keep excusing this, if we keep telling ourselves “it’s not that bad”, we’re going to wake up in a province we no longer recognize.

This government talks a big game about sovereignty. But sovereignty starts with serving people. And right now, they’re not even answering the damn door.

This is the first thing you see when you walk in my back door.

They whispered to her, “You cannot withstand the storm.” She whispered back, “I am the storm.

I have always felt it applies to me and clearly also to Patty.

We need to be louder. We need to be braver. We need to be the storm.

Her full letter is included below, exactly as written:

Dear Mr. Singh,
I am writing to express my disappointment and concern regarding my recent attempt to meet with you. I had scheduled an appointment through your office for this past Friday at 1:30 PM. I took time off work to attend, yet when I arrived, the office was locked, and no one was present. I waited until 2:00 PM, but no one showed up, and my calls went unanswered. I anticipated that someone from your office would have reached out to explain or reschedule, but I have yet to receive any communication.
When you came to my door during your campaign, I specifically asked where you draw the line between toeing the party line and representing your constituents. You assured me that your constituents come first. As someone who voted for you, I expect you to honor that commitment.
As a lifelong Albertan, a mother, wife, grandmother, and business owner, I am deeply concerned about the direction in which the UCP is leading our province. I, like many others, am vehemently against separation—I am a Canadian before I am an Albertan. Moreover, I strongly oppose Bills 54 and 55, and I am troubled by Premier Smith’s scandals and corruption. From her extravagant \$65-per-square-foot carpet to her clawback of \$200 from AISH recipients, from her underfunding of AHS to her trips to the U.S. to associate with far-right figures, her decisions appear to prioritize personal and partisan interests over the well-being of Albertans.
Peter, you have been entrusted to represent us. I implore you to exercise your role with integrity and stand against the willful destruction of our province. Premier Smith’s chaos and corruption have persisted for far too long. Your constituents need you to demonstrate the strength of character to oppose this harmful trajectory and to advocate for our collective interests.
This is a critical moment in our province’s and country’s history. The decisions made now will shape how future generations remember us. Please make your stand count.

With great concern,
Patricia Forrest

24 Hours to Mark Carney’s First full Cabinet: and this is my crystal ball moment (read it with that in mine and provide your own speculation.) There are rumours that this will be a smaller group of main cabinet positions with a second tier. I am uncertain how that would differ from Parliamentary secretaries. And while I have zero inside knowledge, no burner phone to the PMO, and absolutely no desire to pretend I’m a national pundit, I do have… opinions. Why? Because I’m a policy geek. I love this stuff. I read bios like novels, track riding results like some people follow playoff brackets, and try to read the temperature of a government through the personalities it chooses, not because I think I’m gifted at it, but because it matters.

And because I live in Alberta, where cabinet speculation gets buried under all the usual shouting about federalism and “not getting our fair share,” I’d like to offer a non-shouty perspective: We don’t need to overcompensate for Alberta. But we do need to include it. Thoughtfully. Strategically. Realistically. Because even though we only sent three Liberals from the Prairies, those three come with real-life experience. Let’s not waste it, or weaponize it.

So, Mark Carney has a challenge. He’s got: A 170-seat caucus, a world in geopolitical freefall, an economy demanding both ambition and restraint, a circus south of the border and a party he needs to recast without erasing. This cabinet is Carney’s first test. Not just of political skill, but of governance style.

So here’s the top portfolios with my fun but foggy crystal ball.

Finance – Anita Anand. A steady hand. A serious mind. The antidote to political theater. And if she becomes Deputy PM too? Even better.

Defense – Jean-Yves Duclos. Smart, unflappable, respected. We need NORAD upgrades and CAF reform, not swagger.

Foreign Affairs – Mélanie Joly. If Joly stays, it’s continuity with class. If not, François-Philippe Champagne maybe, charming world leaders and diplomats like it’s a speed-dating summit.

Infrastructure – Sean Fraser. He’s policy-brain meets Atlantic grit. The kind of person who could actually explain a trade corridor and make it happen.

Health – Stephanie McLean. A former member of the Alberta legislature, she was minister for the status of women and Service Alberta in the Notley NDP government.Empathy meets pragmatism. And if the provinces start budget-jousting? She won’t blink.

So how do we bring in the Prairie People: We Have a Few. Let’s Use Them Wisely. Alberta and Saskatchewan didn’t exactly pack the Liberal bench this time. But Carney has two Alberta names to work with:

Cory Hogan (Calgary Confederation) He’s a policy brain. Knows the Alberta terrain. Could be used brilliantly in Intergovernmental Affairs or Natural Resources. Wouldn’t that be something?

Eleanor Olszewski (Edmonton Centre) – Lawyer, community advocate. A possible voice on Justice or Seniors, even as a Parliamentary Secretary.

Let’s be clear: both will not be full ministers. But one or two must be elevated. This is about governability, not appeasement. And Alberta doesn’t need more excuses to throw tantrums, we need roles with teeth.

So back to the overall team. What about Crystia Freeland? Exit, Pivot, or Reinvention? She’s a force. Brilliant. Battle-tested. But undeniably linked to the Trudeau years. So what now? Exit on a high note and go global? Pivot to a quieter but still weighty portfolio, Democratic Institutions? Stay in cabinet, but off-centre? Carney can’t afford her shadow. But he also can’t ignore her strength. If she stays, it’ll be on his terms. And then there is Champagne, Still Chilled? Don’t count out François-Philippe Champagne. If Carney wants: Industry, Global Trade or a senior behind-the-scenes strategist maybe…He’s still got the charm and chops to deliver.

Rising Stars to Watch (Even If They’re Not Ministers… Yet) There are many but here are some thoughts. Taleeb Noormohamed (BC), Innovation, digital, AI. One of the smartest people in the room. Rachel Bendayan (QC), Finance-adjacent or international. Fluent, quick, strategic. Lena Metlege Diab (NS), Immigration or Justice. Atlantic strength. Pascal St-Onge (QC), Culture, labour, equity. Authentic and overdue for a bigger spotlight.

As a final thought tone will be everything. You can tell a lot about a Prime Minister by the first cabinet they build. It’s not just about region or résumé. It’s about how they want to lead, is it collaboratively (remember always collabor’action’) or top-down, cautiously or boldly, performatively or with purpose.

Mark Carney doesn’t owe anyone flash. But he does owe the country a tone reset. So yes, this is fun. It’s speculative. It’s a little nerdy. But it’s also a rare chance to see the soul of a new government take shape. And if I’m wrong about any of this? Or most of this? That’s the beauty of crystal balls. They say more about the person holding them than the future they try to see. But hey, at least mine isn’t fogged up by partisanship-well maybe a little.

This year feels different. Every year, I share a poem I wrote for my Mum decades ago. It’s simple, sentimental, and I’ve never changed a word, because it tells the truth of who she was. But today, I want to tell that truth in a different way. Not as a poem, not as a memory frozen in time, but as a living, breathing story, one that continues through me, through my sons, and now through my granddaughter.

My Mum was a character. Of that, you can be sure. While others marched for women’s lib, she was proudly “Mrs. Don McClure.” But don’t misunderstand, submissive she was not. She had her say, always. She was strong and sharp and wildly funny, and the role she most cherished was being a mother and a wife.

I never got to know her as an adult. She had a stroke when I was still a teenager, paralyzed, and left without speech. We had her with us for another ten years after that. Ten long, precious years. And while her body changed and her voice was taken, she didn’t change. Her soul, her humour, her fierce love, they were still right there.

But the world didn’t always see that. Watching people treat her as less than because of her physical disabilities was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to witness. It was like they couldn’t see the woman she still was. And that hurt, deeply. Because I could still see her. I could feel her. She was still my Mum. Still the same vibrant woman with the beehive hair, the sharp tongue, the heart as wide as the sky. Her body may have failed her, but her spirit never did.

And that too was a lesson. A painful one. But one I’ve never forgotten: never underestimate the person you think can’t speak, because sometimes, they’re the strongest voice in the room.

I wish my boys could’ve known her. I wish she could have held my granddaughter Addison. This is my first Mother’s Day as a grandmother, and my daughter-in-law’s first as a mother. But Mum is still with us. Because she shaped us.

Her laugh echoes in my memory. Her smile, so vivid I can see it still. And that beehive hairdo? Her signature. You could spot it across the Eaton’s store from a mile away. Honestly, it was like a lighthouse. She made sure you could find her.

The smells of home are still with me too. Mum rubbing Vicks on my back when I was sick. Fresh-baked cookies cooling on the counter. Clean laundry folded and stacked just so. These things might sound small, but they were enormous in what they taught me: love shows up in consistency, in care, in presence.

She had a strong sense of justice. If someone was being mistreated, she was there. She taught me early: stand up for the underdog. Speak up for what’s right, even if it makes people uncomfortable.

And speaking of uncomfortable… her honesty? Legendary. There was no sugar-coating with Mum. She told it like it really was. To everyone. Including me. She was beautiful. Not just in the way she looked, but in her joy, her loyalty, her passion for life and family. Even when her health failed, even when mobility and speech were taken from her, none of that changed her soul. Her essence, who she was, remained.

I wish I’d told her more. I wish I’d shown her more. The love, the gratitude, the way her strength carried me. I didn’t always say it. I didn’t always know how. And now, it’s too late to hear her voice in return. That kind of regret softens over time, but it never really disappears.

She was my anchor. My rock. The one place I could turn when nowhere else would do. And though she’s gone, her teachings stay with me. I use them every single day. They are my compass, my key.

And I want to take a moment for those who may not be sharing in the sweetness of today. For those whose relationships with their mothers were complicated, painful, or absent, Mother’s Day can carry a different kind of weight. I see that. I respect that. Whatever your story is, it matters. You’re allowed to feel whatever today brings.

For me, my mother was my soft place to fall. And now, I try to be that for others. Her story didn’t end with me, it continues with my sons. And now, with my granddaughter.

Oh, and about politics? She didn’t always agree with my father. And she sure wasn’t going to comply just because they shared a life together. Sometimes, she saw things a little differently, especially when it came to politicians. What a great lesson, don’t you think? That it’s okay to speak up. It’s okay to disagree. And it’s more than okay to hold your own.

To my Mum, thank you. Thank you for everything you gave me. Thank you for showing me how to love, how to fight, and how to laugh. I miss you deeply. But I carry you forward.

With love,

Nancy

Let’s have a little fun because some of us have a new truth. It appears the Baby Boomers have found their voice. To be fair this may include some of the earlier Gen X folks as well. And when I say “Boomers,” I can already hear Gen X, Millennials, and Gen Z muttering from behind their screens: Oh boy. The old people are at it again.

Well… yeah. We are. And we’re not whispering. To be fair, when I was their age, I definitely thought anyone over 60 was halfway to the bingo hall. But here’s the thing: turns out we’re not done. In fact, we may just be getting started.

In the recent federal election, our voice wasn’t just present, it roared. Something shifted. Maybe it’s the stakes. Maybe it’s the steady diet of disinformation. Maybe it’s that we’ve seen what happens when good people stay silent. Whatever it is, we spoke up. Loudly. And proudly.

I’ve always had a voice (just ask anyone who knows me). But this time, something clicked. The filter dropped a notch. Not to be reckless, but to be real. Because this moment in time doesn’t need politeness. It needs purpose.

Now, let’s be fair, many of us already knew our value. We’ve been shaping families, communities, companies, and countries for decades. We raised kids, worked jobs, fought battles, broke barriers. But this is different. There’s a rising awareness that our voice, as a collective is having an impact again. A real one.

And here’s what makes me proud: we’re not doing this out of ego. We’re doing it out of love. For our kids. For our grandkids. For the country we helped build and still believe in.

You hear people say it all the time: “I just don’t want my children or grandchildren growing up in a world like this.” And sure, those visions differ. Some may not vote like I do, or speak like I do, or post like I do. But the common thread is clear: we care about what comes next.

So, how do we do this? Not everyone’s going to join an advocacy group. Not everyone’s going to write long rants (guilty), run for office, or lead a campaign. But we have one giant asset that no one can take from us: life experience. We’ve lived through cycles. We’ve watched history try to repeat. We’ve learned what works and what absolutely doesn’t. And we’re still relevant, damn it.

And here’s something I don’t want us to forget: we are the last generation with direct access to the voices that lived through the Great Depression and the Second World War. Not the economic downturns of the ‘80s or ‘90s, but the actual Great Depression. Not textbook summaries, but stories told across kitchen tables. We had parents or grandparents who fought, or supported those who fought, in a war that shaped the modern world. That kind of lived wisdom, of sacrifice, of resilience, of survival, doesn’t come with a Google search.

And as that direct knowledge fades, the danger is that we stop recognizing what real hardship and fascism actually look like. And yes, there are parts of the world where it’s already happening again.

So if you’re reading this and you’re one of the people I’m talking about, one of us, then let me say it plainly: I’m proud of you. I’m proud of us. And if you’re not a boomer but rather someone who has a parent or grandparent who is, please take a moment. Listen to what they’re saying. Ask them why they’re fighting so hard. You might just hear something that helps make sense of it all.

Because this isn’t about nostalgia. It’s about legacy, not in a name-on-a-building kind of way, but in the deeper sense. Legacy as in: Did I do my part? Did I use what I’ve learned to leave the world a little better than I found it? And maybe most importantly: Did I find my voice? Even if it took me a while? Well, I did. And I’m not alone.

We’ve still got work to do. Letters to write, elections to vote in, grandkids to love fiercely. But make no mistake, we’re not just wise elders sipping tea and knitting sweaters (although we do that too, and beautifully). We’re the generation that wore mini skirts and combat boots. We flew airplanes, rode motorcycles, marched on Parliament Hill, hitchhiked through Europe, and some of us may have raised hell before we raised kids. We’re not just relevant. We’re cool. Arguably cooler than some of the kids who roll their eyes at us on TikTok.

So yeah, we’re Boomers. And we’re not done!

PS The picture of my Dad and I was in an article on my father in the Star Weekly. Some of you may remember that colored magazine published by the Toronto Star and available nationally.

A Pope in the age of Trump. Actually I debated whether to talk about this. It doesn’t really fit the lane I usually stick to. I tend to write about policy, politics, and our messy little Canadian democracy, with a healthy dose of sarcasm and a dash of lived experience. But this? The papacy? That’s not exactly my brand.

Still, I’m going to talk about it. Because something about this moment feels bigger than religion. And because, well, it brought up more than I expected.

Let’s start with some context. I’m not Catholic. Never have been. I was raised Protestant, and let’s just say my marriage to a French-Canadian Roman Catholic didn’t exactly win me a standing ovation from his side of the family. In those days, being a Protestant daughter-in-law wasn’t some quirky anecdote, it was a full-blown problem. That was decades ago, and we’ve all moved on (mostly), but I’d be lying if I said those dynamics didn’t shape how I view the Church.

Which brings me to this: very few people thought the new Pope would be American. There were odds-on favourites, sure, Italy’s second-in-command under Pope Francis seemed like the safe bet. Others pointed to the Church’s fastest-growing communities in Africa or the Philippines, a nod to the global South and a way of recognizing where Catholicism is actually expanding.

But the cardinals went with a curveball. They chose an American.

And not just any American. Cardinal Robert Prevost, now Pope Leo XIV has been vocal, before and after his election, about the moral urgency of global migration. He’s spoken clearly about the responsibility of wealthy nations to welcome those displaced by war, climate disaster, and economic collapse. He has framed migration not as a problem to be managed, but as a defining test of compassion and leadership in a fractured world. This is not a pope chosen to clamp down and retreat. This is a pope who believes we are a moving world, and that the Church must move with it.

So yes, the Church chose an American Pope. And yes, the MAGA crowd is already grumbling that he’s not their kind of Christian. Which is kind of the point. This wasn’t about appeasing Trumpists. This was about confronting them, from within their own borders, in a language they can’t ignore.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying the Church suddenly became a progressive utopia. It’s still wrestling with its own demons (some quite literally). Pope Francis did something extraordinary: he moved the institution forward. Slowly, awkwardly, imperfectly, but forward. He spoke about climate change, economic inequality, and the need for mercy. He apologized to Indigenous Peoples in Canada, not by issuing a statement from Rome, but by getting on a plane, coming to Canada, and saying the words in person. That mattered at least as a start. That still matters.

So yes, I expected the pendulum to swing back. After all, institutions like the Vatican have a deep fondness for rubber bands. But the American Pope? That’s not a swing, it’s a sidestep. And maybe, just maybe, a strategy.

Because if the Church wants to remain relevant in an age of disinformation and division, it has to engage with the places where those forces are growing. And that includes the United States, where truth, decency, and democracy are all under renovation, or possibly foreclosure. Maybe this choice is a form of resistance. Maybe it’s a gamble. But I don’t think it’s an accident.

And for me, personally? It’s strange. I spent much of my adult life as the outsider in a Catholic family, biting my tongue at dinners, holding my own in debates about doctrine versus decency, trying to raise kids with both freedom and faith. I didn’t expect to feel anything about the new Pope. But I do. I feel…hopeful. And slightly vindicated.

And let’s be clear: if the MAGA movement is already mad about this Pope, I’m even more on board. When your enemies are anti-science, anti-women, and anti-truth, having their disapproval is practically a character reference.

Because let’s be honest, religion has been used as a weapon in the U.S. for a long time now. Trumpism didn’t invent it, but it sure did load the chamber. Faith has been twisted into a tool of exclusion, cruelty, and raw political power. Jesus gets name-dropped between gun laws and border walls, while compassion gets kicked to the curb.

But here’s the thing: the Vatican just answered back. And not with more fire and brimstone, but with strategy. The appointment of Pope Leo XIV isn’t just a theological decision. It’s a geopolitical counterstrike, an elegant, calculated response from one of the oldest institutions on Earth to the circus of Christian nationalism.

They chose an American. But not that kind. Maybe, just maybe, the Church is reminding us that religion can still be about humility, about welcoming the stranger, about taking moral risks instead of political sides.

The Catholic Church may be trying to save the world, or at least save its soul. If this Pope can help slow the moral erosion of modern politics, even a little, I’ll call that a win. Or at least a decent Hail Mary.

Alberta is part of a sovereign Canada. Not as presented by Danielle Smith. I’ve tried to temper this a bit in past posts, mostly because I speak to a national audience. But it’s time to circle back.

I’ve lived in Alberta for more than 45 years. My children were born here. My husband and my family have benefited greatly, and continue to benefit, from the oil and gas industry. I don’t write this without that perspective. But what I’m about to say isn’t just an Alberta conversation. It’s needs to be seen as a national one.

Danielle Smith appears to believe she’s a major geopolitical figure, attempting to upstage a historic meeting between our Prime Minister and Donald Trump by scheduling a press conference at the exact moment Mark Carney arrived in Washington. And conveniently, when Prime Minister Carney addressed the media, Smith suddenly made herself available to do the same. The timing is not subtle. It’s a posture, one meant to scream, “Alberta First,” as if we’re some sovereign entity on the global stage, not a province within a federation.

This isn’t statesmanship. It’s narcissism. And it feeds a much deeper problem.

Alberta has a superiority complex. There, I said it. And I say it from the inside, from the oil-patch towns and highway diners and city boardrooms I know well. This is not an attack. It’s an intervention.

That complex is rooted in a selective sense of grievance. It’s seen when ‘some’ Albertans cherry-pick stats, play the victim during downturns, and weaponize our contributions to the national economy to justify any level of political belligerence. We frame ourselves as misunderstood mavericks when in reality, we’re often just being held to the same constitutional rules as everyone else.

Danielle Smith doesn’t challenge that narrative. She feeds it. She floats unconstitutional legislation, nods to separatist rhetoric, sues the federal government like it’s a sport, all while pretending this is just what “the people” want. I did a post recently that laid out the actual numbers around Albertan support for separation. Spoiler alert: they’re not with her. But that doesn’t stop her from weaponizing the illusion.

And then there was today. I got a private message from a woman in a very conservative part of central Alberta. Before she said anything, she asked if what she was about to say could be seen publicly. I assured her it was a direct message, just between us.

She wanted to say thank you. She had read one of my posts and wanted me to know how much it meant to her. And she felt she couldn’t say that out loud.

That’s fair. She still lives where she lives. Her friends, family, and community may not share her views. She has to survive in that context, and that means protecting herself in ways most people never have to think about. But that message reminded me why I do this.

I don’t write for likes or shares or comments. If you want to, great, I appreciate it. But that’s not the point. I write to try and open up space. Space for conversation, space for people to see things through a new lens. Space for someone to feel less alone in a place where their voice doesn’t feel safe. That’s the goal. And if that’s all this post does, mission accomplished.

As with my conversations around the federal government, it’s time we get back to work on the issues that actually affect our daily lives. Here in Alberta, that means healthcare, education, infrastructure, the things that matter. The noise around separation and political theatre can wait. We’ve already lost too much time to the Danielle Smith Show while real problems keep piling up offstage. Remember the AHS scandal?

Yesterday, Danielle Smith sat down for an interview with Vassy Kapelos on Power Play. And if anyone thought this Premier might tone it down, think again. This woman isn’t slowing down, she’s doubling down. Every question was met with the same practiced deflections and political theatre we’ve come to expect, as if her job is to stir drama, not solve problems. Kudos to Vassy for keeping the pressure on. We need more of that kind of journalism, because what’s at stake here isn’t just about rhetoric. It’s about accountability.

Unity isn’t easy. It’s a choice. And right now, some of our leaders are making the wrong one. And if the skies over Alberta look dark in that photo, don’t worry. That’s not weather. That’s just the political forecast.

Washington is, for now, behind us. But what happened today between Canada and the United States deserves more than a shrug and a photo-op headline. Because by any fair measure,this was a success.

When Prime Minister Mark Carney arrived in Washington, it wasn’t just protocol on display, it was theatre with intent. Donald Trump personally greeted him at the White House entrance, a gesture not extended to every leader. With a full honour guard in place, the tone was surprisingly cordial. No awkwardness, no forced smiles, (well maybe that is naive), just two men aware that the optics mattered. And in that moment, it was hard to ignore the symbolism: both flags, both leaders, standing face to face before stepping into the storm.

Carney navigated it all with discipline and control. He didn’t take the bait. He didn’t play the game. He managed the moment, and maybe even the man.

Take, for instance, Trump’s tired 51st state jab, the idea that Canada might someday be “for sale,” said with that familiar grin. Carney answered, calm and composed: “As you know from real estate, there are some places that are never for sale. We’re sitting in one right now, Buckingham Palace that you visited, as well. And having met with the owners of Canada over the course of the campaign the last several months, it’s not for sale, it won’t be for sale, ever.”

It wasn’t a quip. It was a quiet assertion of sovereignty, one that cut through the noise and landed exactly where it needed to.

Carney didn’t just push back. He pushed forward. He made it clear: the USMCA must evolve. Canada isn’t here to abandon the deal, but it’s not here to be complacent either. Reform is expected. Partnership is welcome. But passivity? Off the table.

Trump, for his part, later said there was “no tension.” That might be a stretch, Carney’s body language in the Oval Office suggested plenty of internal restraint. You could see him holding back from correcting Trump’s economic distortions. But somehow, it worked. Trump left the room without a tantrum, and Carney left with his purpose intact.

The solo press conference at the Canadian Embassy was classic Carney. No chest-thumping. No world-conquering rhetoric. Just: We accomplished what we hoped to accomplish. Not flashy, just serious, strategic leadership.

And it continues to matter at least for me, personally. Growing up on the East Coast, our relationship with the U.S. was part of everyday life. Trips to Florida were routine, sometimes for my father’s business, sometimes for family time. Flying down the Eastern Seaboard in a small aircraft, stopping in Bangor, Raleigh-Durham, or Vero Beach, didn’t feel exceptional. It just was. The U.S. was familiar and trusted. You didn’t think about crossing the border, you just did it.

Later, in Western Canada, that ease showed up differently. Driving to Montana for gas or cheese felt no different than driving to Saskatchewan. Disneyland, Las Vegas, the Grande Canyon, so many memories. Crossing the line wasn’t a political act, it was part of the rhythm of life. Now, that world feels like it’s slipping away. Maybe permanently. There’s a sadness in realizing nostalgia won’t bring it back. That simple trust in cross-border normalcy, the casual, neighbourly connection, has become something fragile. And no amount of wishing will undo that.

Meanwhile, the chaos on the other side of the table continues. Trump was simultaneously riffing about announcements of ceasefires “Israel doesn’t know about,” while his Treasury Secretary, under oath, confirmed there’ve been no trade talks with China, contradicting Trump’s own statements hours earlier.

And back home? The Conservative brain trust rolled out Andrew Scheer as their voice of the day or should I say the days until Poilievre weasels his way back. Out of their entire expanded caucus, they chose him to speak. It’s like watching a reboot of a show nobody asked for.

So yes, the circus continues. But amid all that, Canada held its line. Carney held his ground. And I’m choosing, for the first time in a long time, to feel something close to optimism.

This isn’t over. The G7 is ahead. Trade talks are coming. Cabinet appointments are next. And yes, I’ll be watching all of it closely.

But today, something important happened. Two leaders stood at the same door. One talked. The other led. And this time, leadership won. And for once, in a world addicted to noise, the quiet one left with the loudest message.

Today is not a day for full analysis. Today is a day for watching, waiting, and if you’re like me, wrestling with a tangle of emotions. As Canada’s Prime Minister meets with a U.S. President who continues to test the edges of diplomacy, democracy, and decency, I’m choosing to step back and bear witness. I’ve shared this video before, Tom Brokaw’s beautiful piece on the Canada–U.S. relationship, first aired during the 2010 Vancouver Olympics, and I share it again now, because it reminds us of what we have been together, and what we still could be, if we don’t lose sight of each other. I will be back tomorrow but in the meantime let’s watch this and remind ourselves as well as both our fellow Canadians and our American friends.