Trudeau - Common Ground

In the kitchen and family room of our home in Ottawa, there are photos wherever you look. Plastered on the fridge, framed on shelves and countertops, hung on the walls. There are official recorded moments mixed with favourite family snapshotsSophie with all the groomsmen at our wedding; Xaviers school photo; the four of us in Haida Gwaii on our most recent trip to B.C. before Hadrien was born; me posing with constituents in Papineau; my brothers, Sacha and Michel, and me riding our bikes on the driveway of 24 Sussex; my mother, Margaret, smiling with her grandchildren. They each spark special memories and have meaning to us. But the group of photos that never fails to catch my eye is a trio assembled by a good friend of ours. These photos do more than bring back good memories; they tell a story.

The first picture shows a middle-aged man in the stern of a canoe, his paddle at the ready and a big smile on his face. The canoe is riding over a patch of rough water, and the man is watching a boy seated in the bow of the canoe who is handling his paddle with only promising skill. The man is my father and the boy, of course, is me. We are on the water on a mild spring day. The smile on my fathers face suggests that he could not be more content. I suspect this is true because he is taking me on a special journey, a rite of passage that he would conduct for all of his sons.

Each of usSacha, Michel, and Imade this same journey over these rapids with my father. We were barely walking before Dad put a paddle in our hands and initiated us into the techniques of the voyageurs. Under his watchful eye, wed work up to this small set of rapids that marked the outflow of Harrington Lake in the Gatineau Hills. My father didnt want us to enjoy a tranquil ride; he wanted us to face a challenge, to be involved in the journey, to help take control of things in some small way. He wanted us to have fun.

In the next photo, two men are riding an inflatable craft through water far more challenging than in the first photograph. In fact, they are in some serious whitewater rapids. The older man, sporting a somewhat scruffy beard, is in the front of the craft with his kayak paddle across his legs. He looks somewhere between exhilarated and alarmed at the boats dangerous angle and the treacherous water around them. Behind him, in the stern, the much younger man is focused on staying clear of the large rocks nearby.

Its the same two people in both pictures, taken twenty years apart. In the second photo, my father is enjoying the ride and Im guiding the boat, both of us totally engaged in the moment. The pictures are a touching measure of the passage of time and the effects it has on all of us.

The third picture showssurprise!another canoe. This one is red and shiny, it glides on glassy calm water, and I am again seated in the stern. Sophie waves to the camera from the bow. Behind her, Ella-Grace mimics her wave while Xavier watches calmly from the middle seat. The photograph captures one of our many excursions in the canoe with the children. This one, taken above Miles Canyon on the Yukon River, is significant because it would mark our last summer together as a family of four: our son Hadrien was born the following winter.

My fathers presence dominates the first two pictures, and I like to think he is in the third photo as well, this time in spirit. It is well known that he loved canoeing. It took him outdoors, it challenged his sense of independence and survival, and it connected him with his roots as a young man, as a gifted athlete, and as a Canadian. He loved any opportunity to pass at least part of a day paddling across water, charging down a ski hill, or exploring a hiking trail. He was as skilled an outdoorsman as I ever expect to know.

These photos are a testament to the march of years, but they are also the ones that resonate deeply and make me miss my father most. It was when we paddled or hiked together back then that we felt closest as a family. The city was where the stress of work and politics would sometimes beat his family down. The outdoors was where we relaxed by getting in touch with who we were and not who others wanted us to be. Together, we learned to face down obstacles and overcome our fears and we developed an endless appreciation for our country and its great natural beauty.

Today, I can no longer grab a snowboard or a paddle and a life jacket on a whim and lose myself on a mountain or a river for hours or days at a time. Sophie and I have to carve out those moments for our family, on vacation or on much-anticipated Sundays. However, the lessons of my youth remain alive in me, and they are what Sophie and I want to pass on to our children. Xavier, Ella-Grace, and Hadrien are the centre of our world and the reason we have embarked on this journey together.

I have had the extraordinary opportunity to explore this nation at many points in my lifeas a boy travelling with my father, as a young man going west for the mountains and teachers college, as the head of Katimavik, and now as a father and as a politician. Every journey has served to remind me of the kind of country we live in, the kind of physical distances we have to bridge, and the kind of abundant gifts that come with this land. Maps cant provide any idea of the real scope of Canada, and air travel minimizes everything that our country offers. You cant appreciate the sweep of the Prairie breadbasket or the engineering achievement of Rogers Pass from thirty thousand feet. You need to be at ground level, where you can not only explore the land but meet the people who cherish the land as much as I do.

Too many Canadians emphasize their regional differences and forget the things that unite us. We are one people who speak two official languages and share a host of others. For all our differences of culture, history, and geography, we are bound together by shared values that define the Canadian identity. I have a deep-seated love and respect for Canada and recognize that we have extraordinary potential. Everything about my life has emphasized and reinforced that fact. Everything I propose to do in my political career is built on that premise.

However, its a potential that is easily wasted and, once gone, isnt easily recovered. The last few years have seen this countrys potential greatness fade in the shadow of divisive politics and a focus on seizing power for its own sake. Thats not what Canada needs, nor what Canadians want. Our country was built on better goals than that, guided by a vision that was both unique and encouraging to people all over the world.

This risk to our potential is among the reasons that led me to enter politics and to make my case for a different approach to guiding Canada forward. In many ways, my approach reflects the circumstances of my upbringing and my awareness that we need to share not just the bounty of our land but the responsibility of protecting and enhancing that bounty. We need to both prize and hone our acclaimed sense of acceptance and inclusion and our respect for democratic values. We need to honour the priceless heritage of this broad and beautiful land, and its promise of a rich future for our children and grandchildren.