The Grinch, The Hill and The Empty Briefcase

Posted: December 15, 2025 in Uncategorized
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Last week in the House of Commons, Canada’s Secretary of State for Sport, Adam van Koeverden, delivered a speech that was sharp, funny, and painfully accurate. And for everyone still defending Pierre Poilievre and the style of politics he has perfected, it was a reminder of exactly what that legacy is in the words of MP van Koeverden.

“Mr. Speaker, remember when the Grinch tried to steal Christmas? He drove all the way up to the top of Mount Crumpit because he had everything that he needed, and he was going to throw the gifts that the Whos deserved because he thought they didn’t deserve to have nice things. It’s kind of like the leader of the Conservative Party, Mr. Speaker. For 25 years, he’s had dental care because he’s had a job here in the House of Commons, so he votes against dental care for 9 million Canadians. He’s got secure housing. He lives comfortably at Stornoway in government-owned housing, so he votes against affordable housing for millions and millions of Canadians. My Christmas wish is that the leader of the Conservative Party comes back in January with a heart that’s grown three sizes and tries to help a Canadian for once in his 21 years.”

That is Poilievre’s political biography in a paragraph. He is a man who has enjoyed every structure of public stability while dedicating his career to denying those same supports to everyone else. And rather than come back after he “won” or, let’s be honest, acquired his Alberta by-election in a riding that any Conservative could win in a coma, did he return with a better attitude? A vision? A grown heart? Anything?

No. He returned with the exact same tone, and the same fixation on Justin Trudeau that his followers can’t seem to let go of, despite the fact that Trudeau isn’t even in politics anymore. It has become some kind of reflexive obsession, a default setting they can’t reset, and it would almost be funny if it weren’t so detached from the reality the rest of us are living in.

For the continued supporters of Pierre Poilievre note that in 21 years he has not produced a single original idea. Nothing substantive, nor visionary. Nothing that withstands even casual inspection. Ask his supporters to name a policy, and they can’t. They can only tell you who they dislike. The only people insisting he’s “leadership material” are perched so far on the right flank of conservatism that competent global diplomacy looks like a threat to them.

Meanwhile, the same voices who accuse the Liberal government of being “socialist” conveniently forget that Canada’s core social programs that they likely embrace, such as unemployment insurance, public healthcare, old age security, and the Canada Pension Plan are exactly the kinds of systems they claim to oppose. And let’s not forget the single biggest fiscal challenge of the past five years, COVID. I would pay good money to see the statistic showing how many small government Conservatives cashed their CERB cheques without hesitation. Canadians across every political stripe were grateful for that “socialist” support when they needed it. Funny how ideology melts when the deposit hits the account.

Because here’s the uncomfortable global truth. There is no Conservative leader right now who would receive the level of international respect Mark Carney does. Could one emerge? Possibly. But the only route to international visibility available to the current Conservative movement is alignment with Donald Trump’s authoritarian worldview and Vladimir Putin’s destabilizing ambitions. That’s the company they’ve chosen.

And that should worry all of us. Leadership in 2025 is not just about the economy. It’s about safety. Economic strength collapses without geopolitical stability. Trade dies without trusted alliances. Investment evaporates when partners can’t count on you. Safety is the foundation of everything, and right now, Conservative politics offers no path to a safer Canada.

Meanwhile, we have a Prime Minister who is respected internationally, who is navigating one of the worst tariff crises in decades, and who does understand the complexity of global economics. Mark Carney is not perfect, no leader is, but he has the credibility Canada requires at a moment when credibility is currency.

And yet, the Conservative Party marches forward behind a man whose political compass points only toward resentment and reduction. A man who has had every benefit of public life yet opposes extending those same benefits to the people who fund them. A man who believes anger is a national strategy.

But unlike the Grinch, this story doesn’t end with a heart growing three sizes. In fact, if anything, every year he sounds more like the guy standing on the hill screaming about the downfall of Whoville while offering exactly zero ideas for how to fix it. A man who wants power with all the enthusiasm of someone who’s never bothered to figure out what he’d do with it once he had it.

Perhaps, perhaps, the spell is weakening. There is growing speculation that January could bring not just a new parliamentary session but a new Conservative leadership race. And if the Conservative leadership team has any instinct for political survival, they see the writing on the wall.

But then comes the real question. If not Poilievre… then who?

Andrew Scheer? You could replace him with a lump of coal and get more heat. A rising star? From where? This caucus has hollowed itself out. Jason Kenney? No love lost there, but compared to today’s far-right chaos, he now looks moderate, (don’t worry I’m not fooled). This says everything about the state of the party.

Adam van Koeverden’s Grinch analogy landed because Canadians recognize themselves as the Whos down in Whoville. Just trying to build something together while a man on the mountaintop insists we don’t deserve it. But unlike the Grinch, this story doesn’t end with a heart that grows.

And if that’s the best the Conservative Party can offer in a moment this dangerous, then it’s not a government in waiting. It’s a loud distraction for people who’ve stopped looking for real solutions.

Thoughts And Prayers Are Not Enough!

Posted: December 14, 2025 in Uncategorized
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Late last night, I was watching news coverage of yet another horrific shooting in the United States. But what struck me wasn’t the familiar “BREAKING NEWS” banner. It wasn’t even the grim resignation that now accompanies every American mass shooting.

It was the face of a young woman speaking from her dorm room at Brown University, 19-year-old Zoe Wisemann, currently in lockdown. This is the second time she has lived through a school shooting. At twelve years old, she survived Parkland. And at nineteen, she is now surviving this.

As she spoke, I felt my own stomach twist, because what she said out loud is exactly what millions feel and what I have felt for years: she’s sad, yes, but right now, she’s angry. Furious that in the seven years since Parkland, nothing of meaning has changed. Furious that Congress has done nothing to reduce the violence or the risk. Furious that a generation of students is now collecting trauma the way they collect course credits.

And I echoed her, word for word. I’m angry too. Because here is the horrible, staggering truth. The statistical likelihood of anyone experiencing one school shooting should be zero. Zero. That should be the floor, the ceiling, and everything in between. Instead, we are now watching teenagers and young adults survive multiples, before they’re even old enough to legally order a drink in the United States.

Zoe is clearly bright and resilient, attending one of the most prestigious universities in the world. And none of that has protected her. No campus, no zip code, no GPA shields a student from a political system that has decided that guns matter more than human beings.

Before anyone trots out the tired talking points, mental health, pandemic isolation, social media, video games, cultural decay, let’s be realistic. Every single one of those conditions exists in Canada, in the UK, in Australia, in Germany, in Sweden, and across the entire Western world.

And of course, we all know what comes next, the ritual chorus of thoughts and prayers. Well, have at ’er with the thoughts and prayers. I will always assume those are a given. But thoughts and prayers are supposed to be the starting point, not the entire response. What matters is what comes after. And in the United States, “after” has become a blank space. A void and a shrug. A refusal to take even one step that would actually make a difference. That is what Zoe is angry about, and that is what I am angry about too.

The common denominator is guns. Are there mental health issues elsewhere? Of course. Do young people struggle everywhere? Yes. Does society feel strained everywhere? Absolutely. But only one country has decided that the “right” to a weapon outweighs the right of a child to survive a school day.

And here is the piece I hate to admit. In those first few seconds after the alert broke, I caught myself thinking, “Please don’t let this become fodder for the current government.” Because we all know how this works. Before anyone even absorbs the human cost, the political machine starts spinning. The question becomes not why is this happening but which side benefits from the narrative. And whether the extremism comes from the right or the left, the human tragedy gets buried under the political tug of war. The horror becomes background noise while everyone fights over who gets the last word. And that, too, is part of the sickness.

And yes, last night was supposed to be a night where I wasn’t writing about the United States at all. I already had a Canadian-focused political post ready but that can be for tomorrow morning. Some realities are too big, too raw, too completely unacceptable to pretend they didn’t happen.

Because the truth is this. No one is safe when the places that should be safe aren’t safe at all. Schools., universities, grocery stores, concerts, parades, malls nor places of worship.

And once again, like after every shooting, every mass event, every moment of national grief, the real question isn’t what happened. We know what happened.

The real question is where the hell is Congress? Where is the leadership? Where is the courage? Where is the willingness to do anything other than protect the gun lobby and their own titles?

Because whether the national conversation is about the Epstein files, or tariffs, or fentanyl, or Caribbean interdictions, or school shootings, or anything else that touches actual lives, the theme is always the same. Power first. Country second. People last. Every day, every hour and every crisis.

And last night, listening to a young woman who has now lived through two school shootings before the age of twenty, the weight of that reality hit me harder than usual. I’m sad. Yes. But like Zoe Wisemann, I’m mostly angry. And if America’s so called leaders refuse to take meaningful action, then maybe the young people who keep surviving these nightmares will be the ones who finally force the change the “adults in charge” never had the courage to make. Because nothing changes until someone decides enough is enough. And last night, a 19-year-old student reminded the world she reached that point a long, long time ago.

Sundown you better take care

Posted: December 12, 2025 in Uncategorized
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Politics across the globe feel dangerous in a way that is hard to articulate without sounding alarmist, but alarmed is exactly what we should be. The world is sitting on a fault line. Every major decision made by the global superpowers reverberates across continents, supply chains, borders, households, and families. No one is insulated. And while Canadians have a uniquely deep economic and geographical relationship with the United States, this moment isn’t just about us. It’s about the entire world and its future.

Today we learned that the head of NATO expects the alliance to be formally at war with Russia within the next five years. I’m not unpacking that intelligence or the what-ifs around it. But I am acknowledging the obvious: three of those years will unfold under Donald Trump’s second presidency. And that reality, paired with what we’re seeing in front of our eyes, has pushed me to talk about something I’ve deliberately avoided.

I have a close family member living with a memory-loss disease. I’ve never said that publicly because it hurts, because naming it out loud makes it real, and because I’ve never wanted to use their struggle as a metaphor. But over these past months, as politics have escalated into something darker, I’ve found myself unable to ignore parallels in patterns of behaviour I’ve personally witnessed and the behaviour we see, daily, globally, from the President of the United States.

To be clear, I am not making a diagnosis. I’m not a doctor. I’m not suggesting equivalency. One is a loved one who lived a good, quiet life and deserves compassion and safety and never acts from a place of cruelty or evil. The other is the most powerful person on Earth. But I am talking about recognizable human patterns, changes in speech, changes in focus, erratic storytelling, unshakeable belief in invented narratives, emotional volatility, unusual physical mannerisms, and moments that simply do not match past behaviour.

Back in Trump 1.0, we all witnessed the erratic late night tweets, the mood swings, the wild pivots, the sudden tangents, behaviour that became part of the spectacle, part of the chaos-for-show that defined his first term. It was volatile and unnerving, but it was still framed as “Trump being Trump,” an exaggerated performance wrapped in grievance and bravado.

But it wasn’t until recent months that people began using the word “sundowning” in a more serious way, pointing to his increasingly disorganized late-night Truth Social posts, sharper emotional swings, moments of confusion that couldn’t be brushed off as theatrics, and most of all, the growing certainty with which he clings to things that simply aren’t real. For those of us who have lived with someone who truly does experience certain changes in behaviour and ‘imaginings’ the parallels are impossible to ignore. The volatility, the slipping coherence, the absolute conviction in invented narratives, once you’ve seen these patterns up close, it is deeply unsettling to watch echoes of them play out on a global stage.

In my family’s case we made the heartbreaking decision to place our loved one somewhere safe, supported, respected, and protected. They hold no power, no weapons, no military chain of command and yet we knew we had to make that decision. They require care, patience, and stability. And they deserve that.

Now imagine a similar pattern of behaviour, but the individual holds the largest nuclear arsenal on the planet, commands 1.3 million active-duty service members, and is treated by his closest advisors as flawless and unquestionable. Imagine that person at the centre of a geopolitical world already teetering, and imagine that no one around them is willing, or able, to intervene.

That terrifies me. And it should terrify every Canadian, every ally, every democracy. Not because we dislike his politics. Not because we preferred Biden. But because unchecked power combined with unchecked behaviour is historically catastrophic.

And yes, there were legitimate questions about Biden’s age and capacity. Some of that should have been more transparent. But Biden, for all his flaws, did not glory in cruelty. He did not fantasize about retribution. He did not weaponize the military against political enemies. The comparison is not equivalent.

As Canadians, including those of us in Alberta, we must choose leaders who will not normalize this, who will not run to Mar-a-Lago for approval, who will not bend the knee for trade favours or photo-ops. Mark Carney was never going to “manage” Donald Trump, because Trump is unmanageable. Only those closest to him can intervene. That is the point and the danger. No one is doing that.

I also know I’m not alone in this world. We are living in a time where more and more families are navigating memory-loss diseases. Millions of people understand these behavioural patterns because they live with them every single day. And yes, I know many people are waiting for the full release of the Epstein files and the Caribbean boat incident, and those disclosures absolutely matter. But just as urgent is something far closer to the present: there needs to be a full, unambiguous disclosure of this man’s cognitive and neurological assessment, not another distraction about how “perfect” his heart supposedly looked or another deflection about cankles. Transparency about his actual capacity is not a luxury; it is a global safety issue.

Something is happening, and the people around Donald Trump are doing nothing. That is what keeps me up at night. That is why I am breaking my silence about my family’s situation. Because I know what these patterns look like up close. And when I see echoes of those patterns in the Oval Office, backed by absolute power, global instability, and a circle of enablers?

Yes, it terrifies the hell out of me.

Where Humanity Takes Flight

Posted: December 11, 2025 in Uncategorized
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So my conversation today isn’t supposed to be about politics. Well, yes it is, and no it isn’t. What it’s really about is humanity, compassion, decency, and the expectations we set for the people who lead us and for the people we choose to be.

Some of you know me through the stories I tell. I’m not a historian or a journalist, I speak from lived experience, from the people and places that shaped me. And today, even though I said I wasn’t going to talk about politics, how can I talk about how we treat other human beings without landing there?

With yesterday’s talk of requiring five years of social media history just to enter the United States, it became clear that many of us, myself included, won’t be visiting anytime soon. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll miss it. I’ve been to Disney more times than I can count; I’ve walked New York; I can survive without Vegas.

What I can’t survive without is my sense of humanity, and today I was reminded of where it comes from.

I grew up in Moncton, a small city in New Brunswick. In the 60s and early 70s it looked overwealmingly white, like so many communities across Canada. The exception was the steady stream of students from around the world who came to learn to fly at my father’s flight school. That was my normal. As a teenager I was pumping avgas, dispatching flights, and working around those students. I grew up in a hangar full of languages, accents, hopes, and dreams. I didn’t understand then what a gift that was.

A few months after my father passed away in 2008, a letter arrived from one of those former students, Israel Ameh of Nigeria. I hadn’t known him at the time he trained in Moncton, I had already left Moncton, but his words captured exactly who my father was and what humanity can look like when lived fully and without prejudice.

Here is his letter, unchanged: “I came to Canada from Nigeria in 1982 to learn how to fly. Even before I got here I felt like I knew Mr. McClure as he tried to make my voyage to Canada as trouble-free as possible. When I arrived at the Moncton Train Station on August 2nd 1982, Don sent his Cool Station Wagon to pick me up. He made the MFC become like… a revolving family setting and as I needed to take different courses, I did not think twice about where to return for those courses. When I returned in 1988/89 and got my Flight Instructor rating, Don helped me get my First and second jobs. His recommendation also made securing a Work Visa easy. I ended up marrying from Buctouche making the Moncton area part home. In 2008, I found Don’s email address on the Internet and sent him a thank you letter which was unfortunately returned due to a bad email address. When I learnt of his passing, it was a sense of tremendous loss that I did not get to thank him for all he did in my life. Mr. McClure, I know you can still read this and I want to say THANK YOU for being such a wonderful person. You practised equality and globalisation with sterling vision before it became fashionable. To many of us, you were like a father. I still remember a talk you gave to me in 1985 about AIDS and why us young men had to be aware and cautious. Other students laughed at the time but it made me into a better man. From the provinces of Canada, Libya, Nigeria, UK, the Carribeans, Nepal, India, Pakistan and all other places that sent men and women to you to turn into Pilots, I think I speak for all of them when I say the world lost a Great Man. Rest in Peace Don, but I know that if they have airplanes in Heaven, you will be helping run an efficient operation and checking up on the airplanes and asking why they are not up flying just as you did to keep us on our toes; but most of all, thank you for changing the life of an 18 year old from an African village.”

That letter, especially that last line, tells you everything about my core. And it’s why, when I hear Donald Trump speak of Haiti or Africa or Afghanistan as though the people from those places are somehow lesser, it hits like a gut punch. It dishonours the young men and women I grew up around. It dishonours my father. And it dishonours that young man whose life changed because someone treated him with dignity.

Trump, born with every advantage, has no understanding of what it means to build your life by strength, opportunity, and gratitude. No understanding of being a guest in another country. No understanding of leadership grounded in humanity. This isn’t left or right. It’s about whether we widen the circle or shrink it until only people who look like us get to belong.

Most of you reading this already get that. But maybe someone, somewhere, will feel something crack open. Because there are cracks everywhere right now, cracks in the asphalt, cracks in the façade of cruelty-as-strength. But dear God, don’t let this be the world our children and grandchildren inherit. Not a world sliding backward into suspicion and hate toward anyone who doesn’t look like us.

If an 18-year-old from an African village could take flight because someone believed in him, then surely we can choose humanity.

Surely we can chart a better course, one where compassion, not fear, keeps us airborne.

“When you blame others you give up the power to change”

Posted: December 9, 2025 in Uncategorized
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There’s an expression I’ve used for decades. I don’t know who first said it, but it has stayed with me longer than most political slogans or news cycles ever will. ‘If you blame others, you give up the power to change.’

When I first started using it, it had nothing to do with politics. It was about people I knew, family, friends, community members, who faced difficult circumstances. We’ve all known those situations where two children grow up in the same home with the same opportunities and the same challenges, and one rises despite adversity while the other drowns despite prosperity. Circumstance isn’t destiny. Choice is always part of the picture, small, incremental choices about how we react, how we cope, and how we move forward.

But somewhere along the way, this human truth got swallowed by something much larger. Blame has stopped being an individual habit and has instead become a societal norm. It’s now a default setting, a reflex, a cultural posture. It doesn’t just show up in personal relationships or family dynamics. It shows up everywhere now. In politics, in public discourse, in online communities, in the way we talk to strangers and the way we talk to ourselves. It has become the new standard, and an unhealthy one.

And nowhere is that more obvious than in the way politics is now practiced. Over the past decade, politics has increasingly become a performance of victimhood. Not genuine suffering, but strategic grievance. In the United States, Donald Trump has practically built an empire out of it. You hear his refrain daily. Joe Biden this, Crooked Joe that, on and on and on. It’s a relentless drumbeat of pointing fingers outward to avoid ever turning the mirror inward.

And here in Canada? We’re not immune. Pierre Poilievre has turned Justin Trudeau into his entire personality. Ten plus years of the same line: Trudeau broke it, Trudeau ruined it, Trudeau is the cause of every pothole, every grocery bill, every global shockwave, every structural issue that existed long before he was even an MP. There is never a solution, only a scapegoat. And if he ever stopped blaming, he’d have to start explaining, which is far more difficult.

But this isn’t just about them. The real danger is what this style of politics does to us. When leaders model blame, they normalize it. They give society permission to adopt the same posture. And suddenly we are a nation, and a generation, encouraged to externalize everything. Everything becomes someone else’s fault. Someone else’s failure. Someone else’s responsibility to fix.

It creates a kind of moral paralysis.

If everything is always someone else’s doing, then nothing is ever within our power to change. The story becomes fixed. Our agency disappears. And once agency disappears, cynicism fills the space it leaves behind.

This is not the country I grew up in. It’s not the country many of us tried to build. And it’s certainly not a healthy model for young people, because when the only thing they hear from politicians is blame, how on earth are they supposed to learn accountability? How are they supposed to believe they have influence over their own lives, let alone their communities?

If society keeps modelling the opposite, if our political culture keeps rewarding the loudest finger pointer instead of the most honest problem-solver, then we shouldn’t be surprised when the entire public starts behaving the same way.

Leadership is not about who can yell “not my fault” the loudest or who can dig up the oldest grievance. Real leadership is quieter than that. It’s steadier than that. It’s the person who wakes up and without pageantry puts one foot in front of the other and deals with the issues actually in front of them. No excuses. No endless rehashing of who messed up what ten years ago. Just the work.

That’s the kind of leadership I prefer: the kind that solves instead of performs. The kind that owns responsibility instead of outsourcing it. The kind that doesn’t need an enemy to justify its existence.

Because the alternative is exactly what we’re living through, a political landscape where deflection has replaced direction, grievance has replaced governance, and blame has become the cheapest currency in public life.

And honestly who is driving that trend? Donald Trump has built an entire political identity around never taking responsibility for anything, ever, even when the consequences are catastrophic. Pierre Poilievre has spent more than a decade scripting every sentence around Justin Trudeau as if reciting a grievance is the same thing as offering a plan. And Danielle Smith has turned deflection into an art form, blaming everyone from judges to civil servants to the federal government rather than simply governing the province she was elected to lead.

This is not strength. This is not vision. This is not leadership.

We deserve leaders who face the hard truths, not run from them. Leaders who build instead of burn. Leaders who don’t need a scapegoat to feel powerful — and who understand that their job is not performance art but public service.

And we deserve leaders who model that for our children. Because whatever behaviour we normalize at the top quickly becomes the behaviour young people believe is acceptable. They watch how we speak, how we react, how we handle conflict, how we take, or avoid, responsibility. If all they ever hear is blame, then blame becomes the cultural default.

We deserve a society that refuses that path. A society that understands that blame might feel satisfying in the moment, but it is a dead end. It does not move us forward. It does not solve a single problem. It keeps us exactly where we are, frozen in place, circling the same resentments, repeating the same grievances.

And it brings us back to the line I’ve carried through decades of my life, a line more relevant now than ever. “When we blame others, we give up the power to change!”

December 7th: Echoes, Reverence, and the Weight of History

Posted: December 7, 2025 in Uncategorized
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Other than being a beautiful, almost-winter day here in my corner of rural Alberta, December 7th carries a weight that never leaves me. For Canadians, Americans and the rest of the world this date is part of our shared history, a reminder that the world doesn’t fracture in isolation and that we have always stood shoulder to shoulder with our allies when democracy is threatened. Today is the anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbour, December 7th, 1941, the moment the United States was pulled into the Second World War, and the moment the trajectory of the 20th century changed. I debated writing about it at all because I try, so often, to anchor things “at home.” But everything I write comes from my own lived place, memory, emotion, experience, and this date sits at the centre of all of that.

My father, as many who read me now know, shaped so much of how I see the world. Back in 1981, during the 40th anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbour, my parents wanted one final trip to Hawaii, my mother already many years into the paralysis of her stroke. I met them there because my father couldn’t manage the physical care on his own, and because time with them mattered. Two things were important to him on that trip: travelling to the remote resting place of Charles Lindbergh, and standing where the Second World War began for America.

Standing above the sunken USS Arizona with them is something I will never forget. Tourists moved around us, reading plaques or pointing at the quiet water. But for my father, it was not a tourist stop. It was a place of reverence. A place of loss. A place that demanded silence. He stood there as a Canadian who had done his part in those dark years, because it was right to stand with an ally, with democracy, with the world. And I felt that through him. I wasn’t alive in 1941, but I knew the significance of that place because he carried it in his bones.

That’s why it sits so heavily with me that, according to reporting years later, when Donald Trump toured the USS Arizona Memorial in 2020, he asked what it was and why it mattered. The president of the United States standing on the graves of 1,177 Americans and not understanding the meaning of where he was. People say, “Well, that’s just Trump.” But that is the point. When you cannot feel history, when you do not carry its weight, you cannot grasp consequences. You cannot lead through the echoes of the past when you don’t even hear the original sound.

And today, after the United States released its new National Security Strategy, framed against a backdrop of global instability, authoritarian drift, and democratic stress this anniversary lands with a different heaviness. Because Pearl Harbour wasn’t only an American call to arms. It was a turning point for Canada too. My father, like so many Canadians of his generation, believed that when democracy was threatened, you didn’t shrug and say, “That’s someone else’s problem.” You showed up. You stood with your allies. You defended something bigger than borders.

And now, as Americans face a crossroads inside their own country, the echoes of 1941 feel unbearably loud. Not because history is repeating itself, but because, as a historian recently said, it is not repeating. It is echoing, resonating and warning.

I think about my father’s reverence on that platform above the Arizona. The way he held the past with both gratitude and responsibility. And I contrast that with a man who once stood in the same place and asked, essentially, “What is this?”

So maybe it’s an emotional weekend. Maybe it’s Christmas coming. Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s the weight of watching the world tilt again in ways too familiar for comfort. But as a Canadian who once stood above the USS Arizona carrying the reverence my father carried, I will say this plainly:
We understand, perhaps more than we say aloud, that America’s turning points have always shaped our own, economically, politically, militarily, and morally. Canada has never been a bystander in the currents of history.

The anniversary of Pearl Harbour matters, not just to Americans, but to all of us. Especially now, as we watch a man who has never understood the weight of history wield presidential power without any sense of consequence. The echoes are loud. Please hear them.

Sometimes calm just isn’t possible

Posted: December 6, 2025 in Uncategorized
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People keep telling me I’m “not writing from a Canadian perspective”. So let me be uncomfortably blunt: everything I write, whether it’s about Washington, Moscow, Venezuela, or the moon, is through a Canadian lens. Because in 2025, there is no such thing as an American crisis that stays on the American side of the border. What happens there reaches us in real time. Economically, militarily, socially, digitally and emotionally.

Anything I write about the U.S. is about Canada. And this week, the danger became impossible to soften.

Two months ago, Pete Hegseth stood before senior U.S. military leaders and said the quiet part out loud, not hinted at, not theorized, not coded. No, he declared, “We don’t fight with stupid rules of engagement. We untie the hands of our war fighters to intimidate, demoralize, hunt, and kill… Just common sense, maximum lethality, and authority for war fighting.”

Maximum lethality. Untie the hands, intimidate, demoralize, hunt, andkill. That is not doctrine nor strategy. That is permission.

So when the world watched the evolving, contradictory explanations around the second strike on a drug boat, one that looks chillingly like a war crime, none of us should be surprised. The guardrails are gone. They told us they were removing them. They said it right into the cameras.

And as Canadians we’re supposed to shrug and say, “U.S. politics are weird right now”? This isn’t “weird.” This is destabilization and destabilization doesn’t need a passport to cross borders. My nephew, who served his entire career in the Royal Canadian Air Force and now continues with them in a civilian role wrote something earlier this year that I keep returning to. I’m paraphrasing, but he described standing on a tarmac in Afghanistan watching Star Spangled Banner draped coffins being loaded onto a plane. He talked about serving beside Americans who lived, laughed, fought, bled, and grieved as brothers, never caring what flag was on your shoulder as long as you showed up. He believed, deeply, that those same American generals would never obey an order to turn their military against Canada. He believed it was unthinkable. And in March, I believed that too. But this is not March. And the United States is not the same country it was even eight months ago.

Last night’s National Security Strategy should have stopped the world in its tracks. Instead, it barely caused a ripple because we’ve all become numb to shock. But we cannot afford numbness. Not here in Canada. Not when the document refers to Canada, explicitly, as a vassal state. If you look up that term, it means the following. ‘A state that has a mutual obligation to a superior state or empire, similar to a subordinate in a medieval feudal system.’

This is how Trump’s America now views Canada. Not as an ally. Not as a partner. Not as a neighbour with whom it shares the longest peaceful border in the world. But as a subordinate with obligations to an empire.

Read that again. And if you still think Trump is a “good guy,” and that the far-right radical politics sweeping across North America are some kind of righteous populist uprising, then you’re reading the wrong post and the wrong blogger or exactly the one you needed.

People often tell me that my writing calms them. But today, I don’t think I can do that. Today is not about calm. Today is about clarity. About looking at the shift happening south of us, militarily, politically, psychologically, and understanding that Canada is not insulated.

And yes, of course we need to pay attention to what’s happening right here at home, not to hide from the global picture, but because what’s unfolding in Alberta is part of that global picture. The erosion of institutional trust, the attacks on journalism, the flirtation with authoritarian rhetoric, the manufactured chaos, it all mirrors, almost perfectly, what we saw in the U.S. before their political centre collapsed. And the truth is, action always begins closest to home. We can’t fix the entire world, but we can damn well protect the ground we’re standing on. If we don’t get our house in order here, if we don’t recognize the direction these currents are pulling us, then political chaos becomes a gift to anyone who sees Canada not as a nation to respect, but as a chess piece to be moved.

And as much as this fear sits in my chest like a stone, I remain grateful, profoundly grateful, that Mark Carney is the one steering the ship in this moment. Steady when the world is lurching. Calm when our neighbour is convulsing. Focused when others are consumed by rage, impulse, and decline. But leadership can only work when a country understands the stakes.

I wish I could tell you everything will be fine. I wish I could offer comfort instead of warning. But the truth is that Canada is vulnerable. Not because we are weak, but because the reality around us has changed faster than we have been willing to admit.

And the most dangerous thing we can do right now,  as Canadians, as Albertans, as people who love this country, is pretend that the ground beneath us isn’t shaking. I am still optimistic. I wouldn’t write any of this if I weren’t. I believe in us. I believe in what we can be. I believe in our capacity to meet the moment. But optimism is not the same as denial. And today, the truth is simple and unavoidable: When an unstable superpower drops its guardrails, every nation in its shadow had better wake up. Because history does not wait for those who refuse to see it coming.

A Winter Prairie in the Shadow of Autocracy: The Fight for Alberta’s Future

Posted: December 5, 2025 in Uncategorized
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Last night I sat down with the intention of putting up my Christmas tree. But before I even touched the lights, I looked out my front window and saw what I always see this time of year: the quiet that villains underestimate, a winter prairie, a lone flag, and a province ready to string its own lights and write its own ending.

That was supposed to be my escape, a quiet moment to step away from politics, breathe, and let myself remember what this season means to me. But as I stood there untangling lights, my mind was racing in a dozen other directions: Putin announcing he will never give back the Ukrainian land he stole, the laws of armed conflict circling my thoughts, and now, because Alberta and specifically the UCP never miss an opportunity to raise the temperature… a new disaster is unveiled by our own government which a can only be described as a very dark fairy tale.

So let me tell it the way it came to me, standing in my living room with a half-lit Christmas tree and a full-body rant building.

Once upon a time, in a province known for grit and generosity, there lived a woman who fancied herself a queen.
I think her name was Queen Danielle. She wore a crown forged out of grievance and applause, and behind her stood several shadowy figures, not through the will of the people, but through decrees disguised as “choice” and “freedom.” And alas they unveiled their latest spell: Bill 14.

Every fairy tale has a moment when the villain finally stops pretending. This was that moment. Bill 14 removes oversight from Elections Alberta. It clears a path for a separatist referendum petition even if it is unconstitutional. Even if it violates treaties. Even if it fails every requirement of the Federal Clarity Act. In the old storybooks, this is where the queen waves her wand and announces, “The rules no longer apply to me.”

And as I stared at my tangled Christmas lights, I thought, Oh my God. We are living inside the chapter where the queen rewrites the kingdom.

And here is where the fairy tale becomes prophecy: This is exactly how it started south of the border. Not with a bang, but with “technical changes,” “procedural tweaks,” and “temporary exceptions” that slowly gutted democratic safeguards. A slippery slope never feels like a slide until you’re already halfway down. Albertans need to understand, clearly, that what we are watching here is the same playbook being run in slow motion.

I’ve perhaps tried to deny the “Trump-lite” comparisons, but today it was impossible not to see it. South of the border, people are begging for a Congress that will stand up to a would-be ruler. Here in Alberta? Not one MLA in the governing party seems willing to stand up to Queen Danielle or the shadows behind her. They just nod, bow, and pretend this is fine.

But let me break from fairy tale language for one crucial, real-world point: The government are saying the separatists need to do the same petition Forever Canadian did. Except they don’t.
Because they changed the rules. They only need half the signatures Forever Canadian gathered. And they get an extra month.

Forever Canadian began with a petition. As Thomas A. Lukaszuk has said many times: we have moved from petition into momentum. And now, we move from momentum into MOVEMENT because what is coming requires every single Albertan who cares about our future to show up. If you signed the Forever Canadian petition before or you volunteered or canvassed we still need you to sign into the system again. Not to re-sign the petition, but so we have accurate, up-to-date information for the work ahead. And if you’ve never heard of this until today please sign up now. forever-canadian.ca

But now this is the part of the fairy tale where the villagers decide whether they show up or surrender the ending to someone else.

And I’ll tell you exactly where I stand. If there are calls to be made, I’ll make them. If there are doors to knock, I’ll knock them.
If there is organizing to be done, I’ll do it. If we need to rally again, I’ll be there, boots on, voice ready.

Because Alberta already said, loudly, that we want to remain part of Canada. And I refuse to let an cabal of ideologues twist the story into something none of us asked for.

I wanted last night to be about Christmas lights. But villains don’t schedule their power grabs around my holiday decorating.
And this fairy tale can only end one of two ways; when the people give up or when the people rise I know exactly which ending I’m fighting for.

If you’re reading this from the United States, please know this: we see what’s happening to you, and we are determined to stop that slide from taking hold here. We’re fighting it now, while we still can.

If you’re reading this from elsewhere in Canada, understand how critical this moment is. Alberta is part of our country, and protecting that bond protects us all. And if you’re reading this here in Alberta… well, you already know what needs to be done. Our province is worth fighting for, and we’re not letting anyone rewrite its future.

The fairy tale isn’t over but I’ll be damned if we let the villains write the ending.

Oil! Oil! Oil!

Posted: December 3, 2025 in Uncategorized
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Oil. Say it again. Oil. That three-letter word that runs everything from the price of my groceries to the geopolitical temperature of the Western Hemisphere. In Alberta, it isn’t a resource, it’s a personality type. In federal politics, it’s a loyalty test. And internationally? We dress it up with talk of democracy, alliances, religion, security… but strip away the slogans and what’s underneath? Oil!

I’ve watched my entire lifetime of Middle East “operations,” “peacekeeping,” and “stabilization missions.” Peel off the moralizing, and you find that same three-letter word holding the marionette strings. And here at home, Alberta has built whole identities, economies, and political movements around it. Including mine. My husband leaves next week for another new project, because as much as I write about diversification and long-term planning, oil still pays the bills in this household.

That’s not hypocrisy. That’s Alberta. And darn oil has been good to us. But it’s also the problem. Because Alberta acts like it’s insulated from global chaos when in reality we’re sitting right in the middle of an energy world that’s shifting fast. And if you want proof of how dangerous this can get, look at Venezuela.

Never mind the complicated tapestry. It’s oil. Just oil. Venezuela has it. The U.S. wants it. And with Trump in the White House, the U.S. is dragging the Monroe Doctrine out of the 1820s like a museum relic and pretending the entire Western Hemisphere is its personal property. Don’t like a government? Overthrow it. Want a canal? Take it. Want resources? Just grab them. International law is treated as optional.

Sound familiar? Because that swagger. The belief that resources equal entitlement is the same attitude we see entrenched in some parts of Alberta politics. Cheered on by the extreme right, it fuels everything from separatist fantasies to “take back” rhetoric to the idea that oil gives us moral permission to do whatever we want.

Now the U.S. is treating Venezuela the way imperial powers used to treat Africa or Latin America: as a cupboard of resources you pry open when you feel like it. And here’s the terrifying part:
Launching an attack on Venezuela without congressional authorization or legal justification would violate international law. It would place the U.S. beside Russia on the list of nations that commit aggressive war. It would prove that the world’s self-proclaimed defender of freedom is fully willing to abandon the rules it demands everyone else follow.

All because,say it with me, OIL!

Now, Alberta loves to think we’re separate from all this mess. But we aren’t. We’re tied directly to the global market, the global politics, and the global moral compromises that come with fossil dependency. And if Alberta chases the American model, which many want to, if we follow the “oil above all” mindset,we might not like where that road ends.

This is where it gets personal. When my husband spent five years fighting for his life,cancer, cardiac arrest, a coma,I had a front-row seat to a truth most Albertans never face until their world collapses: oil money means nothing when you’re wondering if the person you love will ever wake up. Nothing!

Not the wages, not the big projects, not the boom years, not the politics built around it. You don’t sit beside a hospital bed praying for another oil boom. You sit there hoping for one more conversation.

But in Alberta, too many people view oil as a birthright and high wages as entitlement. As if this industry is supposed to guarantee them a certain lifestyle forever. As if the rest of the country should bow to our exceptionalism. As if questioning oil’s supremacy is an act of betrayal.

Let me be clear. I know what oil has provided my family. I know what it provides to Alberta. I know what it has contributed to Canada. But I also know that when life hangs in the balance, the entire mythology around oil collapses. What remains is what actually matters: people, families, health, community, stability, democracy. Not oil.

Which is why watching Alberta flirt with the same aggressive, resource-obsessed worldview we see in parts of the United States should concern every one of us. If Alberta believes its wealth gives it moral permission, if we take the American route of dominance, supremacy, and extraction above all, we are heading toward the same democratic rot.

Oil is a tiny word, just three letters. But Alberta has given it far more power than it deserves. The love of money may be the root of all evil. But the worship of oil, its money, its mythology, its political leverage, is the root of a whole lot more.

And if we don’t learn that now, we’re going to learn it the hard way.

Don’t mess with Franklin

Posted: December 1, 2025 in Uncategorized
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Before I even begin, I want to say this clearly: I would never change a Franklin book, its message, or its imagery to suit political commentary. These stories were foundational for my kids and for me and the lessons Paulette Bourgeois wrote and Brenda Clark illustrated deserve to be kept intact exactly as they are.

Which is why it feels so bizarre, and frankly insulting, to watch someone else drag Franklin into a political stunt while utterly disregarding the values these books were built on.

Because yes, the U.S. Secretary of Defense (who still calls himself the Secretary of War, as though renaming the job is part of the fantasy) posted an AI-generated picture of Franklin the Turtle hanging out of a helicopter holding a gun. And let me tell you, as someone who read Franklin books for decades and actually respects their moral compass: there is not a single Franklin story where he leans out of a helicopter with a weapon.

So while President Trump’s team continues rewriting norms, reality, and now children’s literature, I’d like to remind them what Franklin books actually taught. And if they’re going to keep dragging Franklin into this, the least we can do is put the real titles back on the table, the ones with actual lessons, not whatever that unhinged helicopter scene was supposed to convey.

Let’s look at some actual Franklin titles I read to my children as maybe they may be relevant in name only to those who frequent the oval office. And yes for the sake of this I will allow the titles to be related to the current US Administration. But just the titles and maybe the lessons that COULD be learned.

Franklin Is Bossy; inspirational reading for anyone who believes leadership involves yelling.

Franklin Plays the Game; although in Washington these days it’s mostly about changing the rules mid-game.

Franklin Is Messy; a political allegory if I’ve ever seen one.

Franklin’s Bad Day; every day ending in “y” when President Trump opens his mouth.

Franklin’s New Friend; once Putin, now the Saudi Prince… the club rotates.

Franklin Is Lost; spiritually, ethically, emotionally, geographically. Pick one.

Franklin Fibs; I don’t even have to explain this one.

Hurry Up, Franklin; or: Hurry up, Trump, could you please just step out of the building? Any building.

Franklin’s Secret Club; perfect for a president who loves a secretive inner circle, complete with loyalty oaths, whispered instructions, and a clubhouse password no one else is allowed to know. I’m guessing the entrance involves tapping three times on a gold-plated door and saying, “Do you love me? Tell me you love me.”

These books were designed to teach children kindness, honesty, problem-solving, and the value of friendship. It is… something else entirely to see those teachings twisted into a militarized meme featuring Franklin leaning out of a helicopter like he’s auditioning for a role in Rambo: The Turtle Years. My apologies for the sarcasm as I relate the titles to current American politics but would they understand the lessons if they moved past the titles

I don’t want to misuse Franklin here. I don’t want to transform a gentle Canadian icon into a prop. I don’t want to corrupt a childhood lesson into a political stunt. However I am using it to comment on the absurdity.

Because when we’re living in a moment where even after verifying screenshots, checking sources, and confirming clips, we still find ourselves asking, Is this parody then something has gone very wrong.

And CBC, if by chance you, Kids Can Press, or anyone who holds licensing rights to Franklin is listening, do you have any ability to tell the Secretary of Defense to stop? I know cease-and-desist letters can’t solve everything, but in this case, I would frame one on my wall out of sheer gratitude.

Franklin deserves better.

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