A confession

After a two-week campaign hiatus on account of a crummy and persistent cold, I finally hit the mean streets of Marysville on Sunday, excessively bundled up in no fewer than five layers of cotton, wool and down, accessorized with what I hope was an engaging smile. It was, thank goodness, a pretty encouraging canvassing session. My flyers and I were politely received, sometimes even enthusiastically so, and I took home a couple of good questions to ponder and reply to.

I also took home one phrase exclaimed to me, smilingly, by a resident along my route. "You're the candidate," he said, "you're supposed to have all the answers!"

Let me get this out in the open, right now:

I do not have all the answers.

I don't have an agenda, and I don't have ready solutions for all of Kimberley's troubles. I'm quite sure that even though I'm an engaged and (I like to think) intelligent citizen, I don't know nearly enough at this point to solve anything.

What I do have is an open and inquisitive mind, a passion for questions (see: Why does city council need a philosopher (of sorts)?), and a genuine interest in dialogue and collaborative decision-making. I love to listen and I love to learn. I bring plenty of valuable experience, but perhaps more importantly I bring a desire not only to know, but to understand. And I think that it's from a place of understanding that the best work can be done.