by Will Horter
It was 10 am on Sunday and I was surrounded by dozens of elderly, mostly Chinese, folks shoving various forms of ID at me and asking questions in languages I didn’t understand.

I was scrutinizing voters at the mayor nomination meeting for the Vision Party in Vancouver. It certainly wasn’t how I anticipated spending my first Father’s Day as a new dad; but then this last year has been full of surprises.

A couple of weeks ago, I had gotten an email from my friend, Joel Solomon, saying that our mutual friend, Gregor Robertson, needed volunteers to help out on June 15th in his campaign to become the next mayor of Vancouver. I gladly volunteered. Being the political junkie I am, I was happy to do whatever was necessary to help Gregor become mayor.

To get elected mayor Gregor first had to secure the nomination of the new Vision party, a party formed by people who wanted to step above the combative politics in the city to create a sustainable, livable, and prosperous Vancouver. Ironically, although I didn’t realize it at the time, spending father’s day working for “Vision” was not an anomaly as soon vision would unexpectantly become a preoccupation in my life.

I volunteered for Gregor's mayoral campaign because it gave me hope; a commodity seriously lacking from our political scene. Hope has been a theme - you could say a fixation - for Claudia and me for awhile now.

Back in November, when our daughter Asha Hope was born 15 weeks prematurely, the doctors’ initial prognoses were dire: They gave Asha Hope a better than even chance at life, and a high likelihood of serious complications. The percentages they cited were scary. As we faced brain hemorrhages, heart murmurs and months in the ICU all we had was hope, fueled by an outpouring of support from you all, a network of family and friends we hadn’t realized we had.

We were frequently staggered by the medical prospects, intensified by our growing existential unease over the emergency nature of the climate crisis and the big challenge facing us all if we were to avoid a human-caused calamity. Hope became our theme song, the chorus murmuring quietly in our ears, like Muzak ever present, but unidentifiable, yet giving us strength to go forward.

Our bond with hope grew in importance, especially since the world seems to have a deficit of optimism right now. As global warming exerts its omnipresence, peak oil becomes tangible, the food crisis escalates and the economy teeters, Claudia and I, along with many other people, craved anything that broke down inertia and propelled us towards alternative visions.

The dearth of hope is especially apparent in our politics. When I meet people, here in Victoria or Vancouver, in Smithers or Prince George; they all tell a similar story about our politics today. Whether they're young or old; First Nations or new immigrants; Liberal, Green, NDP or even Conservative, the message is the same: “the political system is broken” —we all say we feel disconnected and uninspired.

Now that I am a dad, the disconnect between what is really important and our routine political discourse has grown starker, and more urgent. Like many of those gravitating towards Obama, I too hunger after hope in the political arena. The path forward I see for us as a nation - as a world - seems difficult. And hope, however indeterminate, is the only lamp that can illuminate our way forward

It was because of this yearning for hope that I was in Vancouver away from my family on my first Father’s Day. When I volunteered I didn’t make the connection that June 15th was a special day, my day. At the best of times I always feel conflicted by holidays, which except for Thanksgiving involve too much self-serving consumerism for my taste. Although I have to admit that the possibility of breakfast in bed and being pampered - without the angst of another notch in the birthday belt - had some allure.

When at the last minute Claudia and Asha couldn’t join me I decided to head to Vancouver on my own and skip the anticipated spoils. Helping Gregor get one step closer to getting elected Mayor seemed like a long-term investment in Asha’s future. Something tangible I could contribute to with hard work.

Although it seems remote given the superficial politics of today, I continue to believe that BC can become a global model for justice, equality and sustainability. But traversing the vast gap between where we are today and where we need to go requires courageous and visionary leadership. People willing to carry a bright light forward are rare-Gregor is our best bet.

Gregor is special. He is the first friend of mine that has had the courage to step into the firing line we call politics today. More importantly Gregor is the first candidate in Canada that I think has a chance to step above the fray and change the nature of politics into something less partisan, and more meaningful, perhaps even visionary.

Hitting the pavement for Gregor seemed to integrate many of the themes I had been thinking about since becoming a father. When my daughter Asha Hope was born I realized that my role as a parent, as an activist and as a citizen had merged. I realized that each of these roles was about helping people bring forward the best in themselves.

As I watched my daughter slowly grow from just over 1 lb to her now robust 11+lbs, I began questioning just what kind of world she would inherit. Would Asha grow up in a century where our economy is weighed down by our addiction to oil? Would my daughter exist in an era where the super rich get richer and every one else scrambles for scraps? Would she inherit a world where fear overrides tolerance? Would Asha live during the age where our planet passes the threshold of no return? Would she grow up in a country, a province, where the best thing was the good old days?

Or would Asha grow up on a planet where sustainability is the norm, not the exception? Would Asha inherit a world where our children’s future is not determined by gender, religion, race or country of origin?

We have entered a historic time -a tipping point- a time when the decisions each of us make, and that we make collectively, will determine the fate of the human race. Economic inequality and food shortages, combined with scientific predictions that to mitigate the global warming emergency we will need to essentially go carbon free by 2050, makes one thing becomes clear—unprecedented changes are coming.

In BC, only Gregor seemed capable of stepping beyond finger-pointing partisanship to galvanize a new politics of possibility and hope A politics that can summon the best in us all to address the big challenges facing us.

Although she was 69 Km (43 miles) away Asha Hope was at the forefront of my mind as I volunteered for Gregor’s quest for “Vision”. Personally I was a little unsettled. Claudia and I were becoming increasingly concerned about Asha’s eyesight, or lack thereof. Generally Asha had been doing so well; better than anyone could have predicted in those ominous early days. We had seen little sign of the disabilities we were told could jeopardize the use of her left arm and leg. In fact to us Asha Hope seemed like a normal little girl, albeit a chatty one.

We continued to exercise Asha’s left arm and leg following the recommendations of the occupational and physical therapists, but we thought Asha had avoided the worst of the predictions we heard following her brain bleed.

But unlike infants younger than her corrected age, we slowly were realizing Asha didn’t seem to lock onto our faces, or track movement very well visually, although she did respond to changes in light.

The dazzling black and white cardboard mobile we had made continued to swing unnoticed over Asha’s bed. Claudia was convinced Asha was blind; I was a bit more optimistic thinking Asha was severely visually impaired.

The preliminary assessments by Asha’s medical entourage were inconclusive. The physical therapist thought Asha visually tracked to the right, but not the left. Her pediatrician could find little evidence that Asha could see and referred us to an ophthalmologist and a neurologist. Claudia and I worried: What kind of life would Asha have with limited or no sight?

It was our first hardship in quite a while. I tried to remind myself that Asha was a healthy, happy little girl…that many people live rewarding lives without vision…that regardless of what happened I would love Asha Hope with all my being anyway. It was a hard time.

My worries retreated as I knocked on doors and scrutinized the election process for Gregor and Vision. While each mention of the new party’s name tweaked my nascent anxiety, the enthusiasm of the people I met buoyed my spirits, reminding me of the possibility of the power of people coming together to reach for the stars. It was inspiring, and it distracted me from my unease, and from the ache in my feet from standing for hours on end.

By dinnertime on Sunday, I got my father’s day wish. Gregor won a resounding victory on the first ballot. He is now the frontrunner for mayor with the Vancouver election only five months away.

Exhilarated by Gregor’s win, I returned to Victoria less fretful about Asha’s future, more hopeful that she, and we together, would persevere - no thrive - no matter what challenges came our way.

Miraculously, a few days later Claudia yelled at me to come in to Asha Hope’s room. Our double dose of hope (Asha means “hope” in Hindi) was lying on her bed clearly watching the fluttering disks of the black and white mobile we had made months before. For the first time we knew Asha Hope could see and could track movement. Asha was smiling as she watched the circles and squares flap in the soft breeze. Claudia beamed a smile probably visible in Vancouver. We celebrated.

In the weeks since we continue to monitor Asha’s vision closely. Asha has undergone additional assessments from the ophthalmologist and neurologist with more optimistic results. Asha still doesn’t track as well to her left - her field of vision limited either by the bleed in the right hemisphere or just slower development caused by her prematurity. Only time will tell, but we now know that there is a good chance her vision can improve with exercise and additional development. Regardless the worst has been ruled out, Asha will not hindered severely by problems with her vision.

While father’s day, didn’t go exactly as anticipated, like the rest of the journey Asha Hope Claudia and I have been on this year, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Father’s day reminded me of one thing: if you dream big, add in some hard work, a double dose of hope, and limit the worries, you end up with a beautiful vision for the world.

Still, I can’t wait till next year and perhaps breakfast in bed, instead of sore feet.