Out of the slush

I had forgotten what a disaster the weather in Ottawa is. When I set out from my Toronto gig this morning, it was nine degrees, no snow, with the sun peaking through the clouds. By Kingston, it was zero. By the time I was cruising down the Queensway into downtown Ottawa it was spitting freezing rain, minus five and there was slush everywhere. Downtown the snowbanks are only a foot or so high, but in the residential areas, they are over four feet. I wondered a lot why Parliament could not be in Victoria.

Anyway here I am and, crappy slush or not, it’s a good thing. The Parliament Buildings look as majestic as ever, and from my hotel room I can see the lights burning in the upper floors of the Langevin Block, where the new prime minister is plotting the launch of a new government.

I heard an hour ago that the first caucus meeting of Conservative MPs will happen next Tuesday, the day after the government is sworn in and the cabinet is announced. That will, of course, be a zoo – people milling around meeting each other, the national media out in full force looking for unsuspecting MPs ready to skewer themselves on their own words, and the inevitable strutting, puffing and postering that characterizes Ottawa.

This is quite the town, after all. I had not been in the lobby of my hotel 15 seconds before I heard my name called, and found myself talking to a cocktail table full of lobbyists who seemed dangerously interested in me. I fled. Walking into the washroom I ran into a guy who said he was from Burlington – a constituent. He pumped my hand and said, “Be very careful here. Do not change.”

That, actually, was about the 200th time I heard that today. Now that I am an MP, I asked readers of my weekly online financial column last night if they thought I should keep writing, or pack it in. After all, being a pol, how can I be trusted anymore? The response was overwhelming, and all day I have been blasted with emails form people coast-to-coast who are saying exactly the same thing. Be true to yourself, they tell me. Do not be ambitious, or sell out for position. Do what you said you would – go up there and represent the middle class.

So, I really appreciate the cheering section right now, because all anybody in this slushy place wants to talk about is the cabinet. It is more depressing that the weather, since the preoccupation in Ottawa with title and position clearly says that just being an MP is not good enough.

It would be nice if all those rung-ranking journalists and wannabee observers had actually run to be the MP in Halton over the last eight months – walking mile and mile, knocking on thousands of doors, without a job, and staring into the eyes of untold numbers of people who were looking for somebody to believe in. I think they’d realize tonight, as I do, there is honour, dignity, achievement, purpose and immense pride in why I am here. And when I walk back on to Parliament Hill, it’s not in the hope of becoming someone else, someone more important. Instead I just hope I can stay me. And I will.

Since when is being an MP not enough?

Tonight I went hunting for an apartment, ankle-deep in frozen slop. Ottawa is a big city, but it ain’t Toronto, and already the number of available rental units is being seriously reduced by new MPs looking for digs, like me.

Anyway, found one. It’s close to the Hill, nice view, but small and affordable. It will suit me just fine and when Dorothy comes to visit, I should be able to smuggle Cheka in. That MP lifestyle is about to begin – constant travel, frequent separations, nonstop stress and an impossible schedule. But, after campaigning so hard and promising so much to so many, I will be the last one to complain. Like I said, a total honour to be here.

“Keep writing Garth,” says an email that just arrived, “give us the straight goods. Give us your political insight, give us the financial advice, and just be yourself. As a long-time reader, I mostly agree with your writings, sometimes I don’t. Now that you’re an MP again, I am even more interested in your new perspective. Please avoid the party rhetoric, please do not abuse your bigger ‘soapbox.’ Please ignore the frivolous issues and just keep speaking to me, to us, the middle class Canadians who want to know what you are thinking.”

And what I’m thinking is this: I have a heavy burden now. It’s called the truth. And I will deliver it, out of the slush.