The monster is an idea, not a person. That's how I'm making sense of life, post election - Action News
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CalgaryOpinion

The monster is an idea, not a person. That's how I'm making sense of life, post election

It felt like there were monsters at my door I simply could never understand, writes Calgary resident Bob Chartier of the Alberta election. Then lunch with a stranger brought him hope.

I want to talk with the people I've labelled the crazies, to park my fears and find where we're still the same

A graphic drawing of a man talking with another man at a patio table.
I want to believe theres still hope and common ground, at least on the ground in my community, writes Calgary author Bob Chartier. (Allison Cake/CBC)

This Opinion piece is by Bob Chartier, a retired civil servant who lives in Calgary.For more information aboutCBC's Opinion section, please see theFAQ.

As the Alberta election drew near, I found myself stunned to read hateful Facebook posts by a friend I thought I knew, and felt nauseous at the level of anger directed at politicians, who are, after all, human.

Off-line, too. During the recent election campaign, I'd drink my morning coffee and shout at the radio when the premier supported a man who incited civil disobedience, when she didn't wear a poppy because of the vaccine mandates, and thenthat cookie comment from the Lacombe-Ponoka candidate.

It felt like there were monsters at my door I simply could never understand. But then I thought back to a recent experience that brought me hope.

It happened on a warm spring day in Inglewood, close to downtown Calgary. I had just finished a meeting in the central library and I was walking home, when I came across a new little coffee shop. It was warm and I felt I deserved a sit down and a root beer.

And so, I did. And as I enjoyed my drink at a patio table, a young man with a bagged sandwich sat down at the table next to me. He dug in.

I had yet to eat at this caf and I am a random talker by nature and so I asked him how the sandwich was.

Fine sir, he replied.

I was not done.I asked a few more questions.He answered.

I suggested that perhaps instead of talking across the tables that he might consider joining me at my table.

He agreed, but was careful to let me know that he had maybe 10 minutes before he needed to get back to work. That's just fine, I said, and we began to have a visit.As custom would have it, the conversation started biographical, before becoming more interesting.

A brownbag sits on a wooden patio table.
A patio table at The Good News Caf in Inglewood, where Bob Chartier stopped for a root beer. (Bob Chartier)

I believe we both became intrigued with how quickly we realized how different we were from each other.There were the obvious differencesI am 76, he was maybe 36.I am white, he was South Asian.That was easy.Then we had to probe.

He was a business guy, I was a public servant

He was a conservative. I was more liberal.

I was agnostic, he was Muslim

I was a carnivore, him not so much.

He was a child of a strong old culture,I was a mutt.

I was a father and grandfather, him not yet.

He was digital, I was analog.

As we talked, our voices changed, our guards were let down and little smiles emerged.

Soon we danced a bit let's see where this old man stands on vaccines and let's see where this kid sits on religious dogma.

It was not at all a conversation of trying to convince, trying to bait or trying to score points.It was curiosity on a stick.We had a conversation about our politicians that would jump from hey, I never thought of it that way to you know that's a good point you have there.

We were still two-stepping around our differences, but for one sweet moment we were in perfect step in the wonder of sameness.- Bob Chartier

As we boogied around our differences, we tripped over something we had in common marriage.To him it was still new and mysterious.To me it was very old (55 years) and still mysterious.All of a sudden, the conversation got close and personal.We both were struggling with being men trying to communicate better with our wives.

To perhaps overuse the dance metaphor, we were still two-stepping around our differences, but for one sweet moment we were in perfect step in the wonder of sameness.

"I am sorry, sir," he suddenly says, "but I really need to get back to work." Ten minutes had turned into an hour.

"Thank you, young man," I replied.

We shook hands and to my regret, we will probably never see each other again.

But I was thinking about that conversation as the campaign wrapped up and the results came in on Monday.

Emotionally, I still feel like there's a monster out there. But that memory of the sandwich made me realize the monsters are not the people or the parties, but the scary ideas creeping in.

There's this idea that the police, the politicians, even the scientists, hospital staff and teachers are somehow corrupted that's a dangerous idea that threatens our democratic institutions.

But it's an idea monster, not a people monster.

I want to believe there's still hope and common ground, at least on the ground in my community. I want to talk with the people I've labelled the crazies, to park my fears and find where we're still the same.

It's not a new idea. There's a whole movement around the idea of "take the other to lunch."

Good. Maybe that's where we start. Just some genuine curiosity over a sandwich.


Telling your story

As part of our ongoing partnership with the Calgary Public Library, CBC Calgary is running in-person writing workshops to support community members telling their own stories. This workshopwas held at the Seton Library in south Calgary.

Check out our workshopsand sign up for the waiting list.