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For a couple of years now, I’ve been riding the bus with a man named Bob. Bob lives in my neighbourhood. He is an engineer, soon to retire. Bob’s mind was blown the other day when I told him I was French-Canadian. I’m like many French-speaking Ontarians; you might say English is my second first-language, so I don’t have an accent when I speak it. Bob had no clue that, on his daily commute, he was talking across the solitudes.

I enjoy chatting with Bob on the way to work. I’m not sure where Bob is from, really. He has ties to the Maritimes and so maybe he was born there. I think he went to school out West. He and I don’t get into specifics, which is probably why French Canada never came up before. We talk about kids and grandkids, hockey (Bob is a Canadiens fan). In any event, he has lived in Ottawa for 40 years and that is enough to make him an Ottawan like me.

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And so, the other day, Bob and I were talking about the recent federal election and the speech from the throne. Bob mentioned voting had been tough for him and that he wasn’t so sure about how this new Trudeau government was shaping up. The throne speech had been a disappointment, he said.