In 1988, during one of my weekly Sunday visits with my Dad, he told me that Svend Robinson, the federal MP for Burnaby, had been by to do a meet and greet.

It was a federal election campaign and doors were getting knocked on all over town. I was happy to learn that Svend had been there, visiting the residents at my Dad’s care home.

Svend was a progressive politician known for defending gay rights and protesting against logging in BC’s old-growth forests. He was pretty popular with my age group, but not so much with my parents’ generation. My Dad had always held fairly conservative social views.

I said “That’s so cool! Did you actually  meet him?”

Dad said “Yeah. I spoke to him. After he introduced himself, I said ‘You’re that queer fellah, aren’t you!”

“Oh No! God, Dad! What did he say to that?”

“He said ‘Well yes, but we prefer the term Gay.”

“Wow. Jesus, Dad, I can’t believe you said  that.” Dad just smirked like a naughty school boy, enjoying his story.

We shared a moment’s silence, before his face became serious and sincere.

“You know,” Dad said, “he was the only one who came here to see us. That was nice of him. Maybe I should write him a letter to say thank you.”