It’s been gratifying to see the massive outpouring of love and appreciation for Jack in the last few days. He deserves every last dollop of it. And, yes, I call him Jack.
You see, despite the sniping of those in some media corners (looking in your direction, Ms. Blatchford), Jack wasn’t just a partisan politician, but also a long-time friend.
I first met him when I was a York U student and he was a city councillor. I was working with our campus Pro-Choice Network, and Jack was very visible at our actions protecting the Morgentaler Clinic and the women trying to enter it.
He very quickly became an inspiration and a mentor to me. It wasn’t about his politics or ideology (although he clearly fought for causes many of us believed in) it was more personal with Jack. He set an example with his boundless energy and his passion. It wasn’t uncommon to see him at a demonstration with a drum in his hand making noise. His words were consistently backed up by his actions and his spirit.
He was also a tremendous supporter of the arts. In a funny turn, Jack and Olivia appeared in our first Moxy Früvous video, King Of Spain, shot on Bloor Street in 1992, dancing along with Sarah Polley and Daniel Richler. Jack knew artists in the city and beyond by name and was passionately integrated into cultural communities across the country.
He was, of course, also a musician – albeit a pretty dodgy one. I will not forget the all-night jam party we had at his house on his 50th birthday. He loved to strap on a guitar and belt his vocals into the microphone. His zest, his excitement, his love of life were always infectious.
Jack developed as a politician and a statesman over the years. He grew into himself. There were elections he did not win early on and times when I debated friends who accused him of being too slick or inconsistent or radical, or not radical enough.
But he found his footing, becoming Canada’s most beloved and admired political figure. He learned to play to his genuine nature. He learned that the general public tends to appreciate it when our leaders are real. And no matter what their views on his politics, by the big election in 2011, very few in this country doubted Jack’s honesty or commitment to his beliefs.
He sent me little notes and text messages in recent years after hearing an interview I’d done or debates I’d conducted on Q. As a broadcaster, I had long given up public declarations of support for any party or candidate, but he always reminded me he had my back. He was also forceful about my doing what I could to remain healthy in the face of the stress that comes with my current profession. It was Jack’s commitment to health that got me into the gym and on a bike every day.
The last time I really spent time with him was at the Hope Rising benefit for the Stephen Lewis Foundation in Toronto in May. I was one of the hosts, and toward the end of the night Jack came backstage at the Sony Centre.
It was a day after his massive election win, carrying the NDP to 103 federal seats. He was in good spirits and appeared healthy whilst walking with a tentative stride. Jack and I watched Alicia Keys from the wings and did a little dance together. He could still wiggle those hips despite the pain. As Keys belted out Empire State Of Mind, Olivia snapped a photo on her camera phone of Jack and me.
Jack is happily clapping along. It’s a grainy shot but now one of my fave photographs ever. We will miss you terribly, dear friend. But your spirit will live on.
Jian Ghomeshi is the host and co-creator of the national daily talk program Q on CBC Radio One and CBC TV.
