Goodbye, Jack

So, last night I joined the NDP. If you don't know much about Canadian politics, the NDP (New Democratic Party) is our lefty, social-democrat type party, home to the activists, the unionists, the pinkos, the tree-huggers... people like me. They're how we got our socialized healthcare. They've never made the official government, but hot damn, they came closer than ever in this last election, going from almost a joke to making up the official opposition, making huge gains in Qubec and among younger voters.

And then on Monday, Jack Layton, leader of the NDP, died of cancer. 

I have to admit, when I first watched Jack Layton as NDP leader, I wasn't that keen on him. He seemed kind of smarmy. He was too cheerful, too affable, too lacking in gravitas. Sure, his bike-riding ways might make him a decent environment minister, and his artsiness might make him a good culture minister, and his work in multicultural Toronto might make him a good minister in charge of immigration or Aboriginal affairs: all critical posts, to be sure. But prime minister? Could a man with a grin like that sit down and argue water rights and arctic sovereignty with the US? Get our troops out of Afghanistan? Deal with potential disasters, foreign conflicts, resource battles? I, a life-long NDP voter (minus one ill-advised stab at "strategic voting") had my doubts. 

But then, in this last campaign, things changed. Jack, bouncing back from prostate cancer treatment, suffering a broken hip, and walking with the help of a cane, came out and kicked some serious ass. It's as though, after his experience with cancer, he looked at the race for PM and said, "piece of cake." Suddenly, he was able to be simultaneously funny and ferocious. And Canadians fell in love with him. Not enough of them to make him prime minister, but enough to give the NDP the position of official opposition, which surprised and cheered all of us on the left-out left who have been wondering, for a long, long time now, who in parliament would speak for us. 

Since Jack died, I have seen more interviews and clips and statements from and about him and his work,  his amazing partnership with his wife (and fellow NDP MP) Olivia Chow, and his eco-house, and his books, and all the incredible things he did in his 61 years on the planet. And I very selfishly feel a sense of regret that I did not do my homework years ago. I'm sad that I didn't allow Jack Layton's charm to inspire me while he was still here to dole it out. Yes, I voted for his party, but aside from changing my Facebook profile picture to an orange one (the NDP's colour) during the May election, that's all I did. I didn't volunteer, I didn't canvas, I didn't even put a sign up in my window. For a man and a party who have given so much to me, I didn't give much back. Sure, I could have done less, but I could have done a lot more. 

And so, I joined the party, and I sent a letter off to my MP (also a NDP member) saying that, next time volunteers are needed, I'll make the time. Give me the button and the t-shirt: I'll wear 'em. Give me the pamphlets: I'll distribute 'em. Give me the phone numbers: I'll call 'em (and annoy the hell out of people, perhaps, but it's for a greater good). 

Days before he died, Jack wrote this letter. "Let us be loving, hopeful, and optimistic. And we'll change the world." What wonderful last words to Canadians. I'm on it, Jack.