The last time MP Olivia Chow saw me, I can’t say I was at my best.   It was at a forum she  was hosting on tax reform – an event of such impossible boredom it required such an intense effort to stay awake I may have taken leave of my body.  The only thing that kept me tethered to reality was the thought of her boots…stylish, black knee-high numbers that complimented the attractive green skirt perched above them.  Well – there was also the fact that she looked better in person than on TV.   I thought I might lead with that when I went up to introduce myself, but that would be kinda creepy as opening volleys go. Besides – people who appear on TV regularly seldom enjoy hearing such news (I know I don’t), and I didn’t want to risk blowing what I hope might become a life-long friendship, ending in a future Senate appointment.

If Olivia noticed my fugue state the first time we spoke, she’s not telling me now.   We’re hidden behind some panels at the back of her bustling constituency office.  I asked that we meet so she might give me ideas on how to be a Model Citizen, and she graciously agreed (or perhaps realized it’s never wise to alienate a voter).  The unimpeachable boots have been replaced by a pair of lovingly worn Doc Martens as she reclines in a big swivel chair.  She slouches into a worn black leather that’s too big for her, giving off the slightly petulant air of a twelve-year-old who’s just discovered The Dead Kennedys, waiting in her dad’s office for him to return.

As if to complete the picture, she says “I am deeply cynical. I was born that way.  I’m not much of an idealist.”   From most politicians, this would be moment of unrehearsed frankness escaping from captivity, but the lack of hesitation and the mild world-weariness with which she says it  makes me think this is SOP.  It has the effect of making her seem a little noble, like one of those anti-heroes Humphrey Bogart would play.  At this moment though, I’m wondering if coming to her for advice on how to get engaged in the issues may not have been a mistake.

Watching the playground melodrama that is politics in Canada has left me a little disillusioned.  When I saw OC at the forum, and how ebullient  she was discussing such minutiae, I figured she must feel she has a calling, and she can show me how to find one too.  Not only that, she is a New Democrat, married to the leader of the New Democratic Party, Jack Layton. I suppose I was expecting something of an evangelist, one who would quote the party bible chapter and verse in hopes of winning a new convert.

Now, as I sit across from her, I realize her engagement on the HST issue was more a matter of professional pride than fervent passion.  Here, in the back of her drab, dollar-store-like office, she’s seems truly jaded.  According to her, that’s how she should be.  “I walk a razor’s edge.  I feel like I could leave this job at anytime.  But if I’m going to be an effective civil servant, I think that’s exactly the feeling I need to have.”

That last comment surprises me at first, but her logic is hard to refute:  idealogues deal in absolutes. Their goals are centered around their idea of the world as it should be and not as it truly is. When they fail, they’re quickly disillusioned and when they succeed, it’s usually at the expense of a lot of people who don’t share the same values. Then there’s the other kind of politician, the ones who love the perks of power and place those above the needs of their constituents.  “Either way, you’re in it for the wrong reasons” she explains.

What are the right reasons then? Her response is all tough-politician-with-a-heart-of-gold, and she says it like she means it; “The thought I might make the life of one person…just ONE…slightly better.  There are no big wins. I rarely expect the outcome I want.  What I do is pursue the one that I can live with.”

So, apparently the first piece of advice from my MP on how to be a model citizen is the same that I give to all potential girlfriends: lower your expectations.  We’re fifteen minutes into the interview and I feel like I may cry.   Mind you, she’s definitely NOT saying whatever is necessary to stay elected.

As it turns out, the OC  is fan of this blog (“loved your letter to your dad’).  Knowing about my year’s mission to become a better man, she’s actually came up with a project for me.   “Where do you live?” she asks.  I tell her about my building, a large condo tower at the corner of one of the busiest streets downtown.  “I know that place very well. Tell me – do you know any of your neighbours?”

I take a mental inventory of the cast of  Chris’ Building : there’s Running Lady, a small Asian woman with a habit of  cranking the speed on the gym’s treadmill then grabbing on tight, lest it launch her across the gym through the far wall;  there’s Mud Flap, a red-headed woman who recently lost lot of weight and insists on exercising in just a sport bra, her flaccid subcutaneous fat waving goodbye as it escapes its spandex prison;  Geriatric Gigolo, a gregarious man in his seventies with a penchant for flirting with every female resident in the building (proving that what sounds creepy and vaguely threatening at 39 somehow sounds ribald and charming at 79) .  Oh, and my neighbour across the hall. I suspect he is either renovating or has Tourettes, judging from the number of times I’ll hear him swearing behind the door of his apartment.

So, in a building of hundreds of people, I know four, and not very well.  That, to the OC, is a problem.  “I want you to throw a party for your neighbours,” she suggests.

What?  My first step in the political fray where I’m trying to get serious and she wants it to be a hoe-down?  “When people get together, they talk. When they talk, they find a common need.  Your goal then, is to talk to your neighbours in a casual way, agree on a common issue and then set about trying to fix it.” She explains that this is exactly what Obama did to create grassroots organizations all over America and it’s too good an idea NOT to steal.

It’s brilliant in its simplicity; not only will I get to actually get to know my neighbours, but I will take effective grassroots action.  Of course, there is the chance I may actually dislike my neigbours, but the OC insists she works well with people she doesn’t agree with.  ”Conservatives are true zealots, which means they have a code, so you can appeal to them on the basis that what you’re doing is morally right – except for Harper.” Power corrupts right?

The Liberals are a different story, according to Chow’s experience. “I don’t mean to typecast, but most Liberals I know only want to be back in power. They will only help if it benefits them and will stop immediately once it doesn’t.  I’ll work with a Conservative over a Liberal any day.”   Miracles and wonders.  Once again, she does singles out Harper, who by her definition is more Liberal (in the above sense meaning, more “power hungry”) than anybody else in Parliament.

I ask if she isn’t better off in the position of Official Opposition  – I figure with  a minority government,  an opposition party can still have some influence over policy without worrying about the corrosive effects of power.   “Oh now, I definitely want to govern.  We can press for, say, more affordable housing, but it’s not the same as actually building more affordable housing.”

Interesting. But if she’s right, and power corrupts, isn’t she worried about succumbing to its seduction?

“Sure,” she replies. “Moreover, it’s hard to self-correct, especially in a position like that.  Lucky for me I have friends who keep my head in proportion to the size of my body.  I was an artist before politics, and my friends will mail me paint brushes when they think I’m getting cocky, as a reminder that I can always be an artist again…if I don’t watch it.”

So to recap –  in order to be a model citizen, to have a positive impact on the political fortunes of my fellow citizens and my country, all I have to do is throw a party for a strangers (like ‘em or not), and while I should hope we can agree on a course of action and actively pursue it, I shouldn’t get all twisted about it if things don’t work out as I’d planned.  Even if it does work out there’s a chance that without good friends I’d develop an ego about it and start making bad choices.  I’ve been doing shit like this for years, so why didn’t I get crowned Head Sherpa of Citizen Mountain long ago?

No matter – I’m now starting to wonder if Olivia Chow isn’t some kind of autistic savant. She has revealed to me that the bar to making a difference politically may be lower than I thought, and  I suspect that’s exactly what she had in mind.   How many people  stay inactive because they think they require true belief,  or grand plans?  According to Olivia, all it takes is a willingness to actively change other people’s lives for the better, even if it’s a teeny bit.    That’s how she  claims to play it – not exactly “I Have A Dream” but perhaps every bit as meaningful.

Just as her choice of footwear has restored my faith in politicians’ taste,  Olivia Chow’s cynicism and lack of idealism may have helped restore my faith in politicians.   “You make tiny incremental improvements and little by little, things get better. That, is what makes it worthwhile. You remember Sisyphus? Well, my hope is that when I push the rock to the top of the hill and it falls down again, it won’t roll as far down as it did before.”

Okay then.  As I thank the OC and leave, I’m wondering if Running Lady and Mud Flap prefer Ex or Canadian.   Hey – maybe I should invite the OC?  She’ll probably be too busy leading a rally or judging a chili cook off or planting the seed of this same idea in someone else’s head.  If she did come, though, I hope she wears those boots.