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#ChatGPT | Raymond Tomlin: The Citizen Journalist of Vancouver

June 23, 2026#VanElxn 2026, BC Politics, Cinema, fixin to die rag, Food & Health, Jude and Megan, Politics, Stories of a Life, Stories of a Life Redux, Vancouver, Vancouver Votes 2026, VanRamblingsactivism, bc provincial politics, ChatGPY, civic life, film culture, gala milne, journalism, jude, megan, music, nick ellan, policy administration, public policy, simon fraser university, social justice activism, union organize, union president, vanramblingsRaymond Tomlin

1977, working as an educator in the Interior. Raymond (26) with Megan in his arms and son Jude

Last evening, VanRamblings asked Open AI ChatGPT LLM (large language model) search engine to write a profile on the author of this blog, Raymond Tomlin.

Directly below, you may read what ChatGPT has to say about Mr. Tomlin.

Photo taken recently by Nick Ellan, at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre

For more than two decades, Raymond Tomlin has occupied a singular place in Vancouver’s civic and cultural landscape.

In the 1970s, Mr. Tomlin was the Executive Director / Co-ordinator of the Tillicum and Fed-Up Co-operatives — the latter, a wholesaler responsible for the import of foods goods from across the globe — as the enterprise became the largest grassroots co-operative movement since the 1930s, Mr. Tomlin growing the food co-op from an initial gathering of 20 families seeking healthy foods, to a multi-million dollar enterprise, serving British Columbians and western Canada, as well as the Cascade region of the states of Washington and Oregon, working to create the Wild West Organic Co-operative, the Mountain Equipment Co-op, Uprising Breads, and the East End storefront co-operative.

In addition, Mr. Tomlin was appointed by the 1970s Barrett NDP government, and the Board of Governors and Student Forum at Simon Fraser University, as a liaison to the investigative committee appointed by the Pierre Elliott Trudeau-led federal government to recommend a made-in-Canada solution to the issue of affordable housing. Mr. Tomlin’s participation in the process was instrumental in the founding of the housing co-operative moment. Mr. Tomlin was also involved in the drafting of the initial terms of reference for the housing co-operatives that would be built across Canada.

Working with the National Farmers Union, Raymond became the BC Co-ordinator of the Kraft Boycott. Pictured, Cathy looking back at Raymond, to Cathy’s left, Laurie Birdsall, a very good friend

Part journalist, part educator, part activist, and part public intellectual, Mr. Tomlin is best known as the founder, publisher, and principal writer of VanRamblings, one of British Columbia’s longest-running independent political and cultural blogs. Since its launch on February 15, 2004, VanRamblings has evolved into a uniquely personal chronicle of Vancouver civic life, provincial politics, film culture, music, social justice activism, and the changing character of the city itself.

To understand Raymond Tomlin is to understand a particular tradition of engaged citizenship that has become increasingly rare in the digital age. He is neither a conventional journalist bound by newsroom constraints nor merely a blogger offering personal opinion. Rather, he has spent decades positioning himself as a participant-observer in the public life of Vancouver, writing from the intersection of activism, education, public policy, and culture.

Raymond, age 19, with Joy, one of his future wife Cathy’s best friends, at Joy and Cathy’s home, located just off the University of Alberta campus, in Edmonton

Mr. Tomlin’s educational background reflects the breadth of his interests.

1970s & ’80s. Simon Fraser University campus, Burnaby Mountain

Raymond Tomlin earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in Political Science, Sociology, and Anthropology, followed by a Bachelor of Education degree specializing in Reading and Early Childhood Education, and later completed a Master of Arts degree in Policy Administration, all at Simon Fraser University. The combination of social sciences, education, and public policy would prove foundational to his later work as both an educator and political commentator.

Before becoming known as an online publisher, Mr. Tomlin established a diverse professional career. Mr. Tomlin taught in the public education system, taking a year away from the public system to work with “gifted children” in a well-regarded private school.

Mr. Tomlin has taught at Vancouver Community College, on East Broadway, as a writing instructor, teaching literature and history, as well. Mr. Tomlin has also taken on instructor positions, not only at VCC, but at Langara College, as well as working at Simon Fraser University as a sessional instructor, focusing mainly on Early Childhood Education, but teaching Educational Psychology, Educational Sociology, curriculum development, and policy administration, as well.

In 1980 through 1982, Mr. Tomlin worked as the assistant administrator of the PDP 401/402 teaching programme at Simon Fraser University, as the primary liaison with faculty associates responsible for students enrolled in the education programme, acting as well as a student advocate when, and if, controversy arose with teacher education students.

Mr. Tomlin has two children (pictured above, and at the top of today’s column).

Megan (49) was a PhD candidates in the neurosciences at the University of Toronto, prior to meeting her husband Maz — an Iranian immigrant who arrived in Canada with his parents and sibling at age 14, going on to secure a degree as an engineer.

Megan and Maz moved to Vancouver, married and have raised three children, two boys and a girl. Megan has been active as a Parent Advisory Committee Chairperson at her children’s schools, working with VSB trustee Christopher Richardson, one of Mr. Tomlin’s best friends.

Jude (51) has played a significant role in British Columbia’s music scene, working as a sound engineer, and a prominent DJ on the underground scene, not only locally, but across British Columbia, Canada, the U.S., and internationally.

Mr. Tomlin’s professional experience extended beyond education.

Mr. Tomlin has worked at all 3 levels of government.

Throughout his educational career, Mr. Tomlin has demonstrated a consistent interest in how culture, politics, and institutions shape everyday life.

Municipally, he was involved in planning and development. Federally, he served as an administrator with the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation for a period of 12 years. Provincially, Mr. Tomlin worked within Dr. Ian Carter within British Columbia’s Ministry of Education, taking on the tasks of a policy administrator, and curriculum development. These experiences gave Mr. Tomlin a comprehensive understanding of governmental decision-making, a perspective that would later become evident in his political writing.

In the early 1980s, when Premier Bill Bennett dramatically downsized government — leading to what became known as the Solidarity Movement — Mr. Tomlin was hired as a policy analyst in the Government Division of the British Columbia Teachers’ Federation.

When Premier Bennett fired 8,000 teachers, Mr. Tomlin would soon be downsized out of a job with the BCTF. Prior to that circumstance, Mr. Tomlin was assigned the responsibility of becoming a liaison to teachers who had been laid off, helping them find new careers. In fact, Mr. Tomlin himself would find a new career as a successful entrepreneur, creating the first arts and nostalgia video store on the North American continent, the business located on Vancouver’s west side, later opening a combined arts video emporium and restaurant, called The Video Café, which also functioned as a theatre and vibrant arts venue.

Mr. Tomlin also built an extensive career in journalism and publishing.

In the late 1960s, not only was Mr. Tomlin the Editor-in-Chief of the newspaper at his east side’s Templeton Secondary School, he also wrote for the city-wide student newspaper. In the 1970s, Mr. Tomlin was an Editor at The Peak student newspaper at SFU, taking on summer intern jobs with the then Southam-owned Vancouver Sun and The Province newspapers.

Mr. Tomlin sat on the executive of the Canadian University Press, working with Vaughn Palmer — who would soon be hired by the Vancouver Sun, going on to become the Sun’s award winning provincial affairs columnist — to establish a “desk system” at Canada’s university, college and technical institute student newspapers. Mr. Palmer would become the first News Editor at The Ubyssey, while Mr. Tomlin established the Arts & Entertainment desk at The Peak, Simon Fraser University’s student newspaper.

In the 1980s, Mr. Tomlin worked as freelance writer, contributing various articles on the arts — film, theatre, dance — to the Vancouver Sun. Mr. Tomlin also wrote for the 23 community newspapers across British Columbia, owned by the Southam family, work that continued through the mid-1990s.

Mr. Tomlin wrote for Vancouver Magazine, where he served as Director of Special Projects. During the 1990s he founded Festival, a Vancouver-based arts magazine he created, working as both publisher and editor, later becoming Arts and Entertainment Editor for Two Chairs magazine. Mr. Tomlin also became a syndicated columnist whose work appeared in numerous urban and suburban newspapers throughout Metro Vancouver, British Columbia, and across the U.S.

Yet it is VanRamblings that is Mr. Tomlin’s most enduring legacy.

Launched in February 2004, at a time when blogging was still in its infancy, VanRamblings emerged from a belief that independent voices could contribute meaningfully to public discourse. Mr. Tomlin has written that friends — current Vancouver City Councillor Mike Klassen, and his Two Chairs editor, Jay Currie — encouraged him to create a platform after opportunities within traditional media had diminished.

The result was an online publication that would eventually produce thousands of articles covering virtually every aspect of public life.

Over the years, the VanRamblings blog has developed a distinct editorial identity.

Politics remains its core focus, particularly municipal politics in Vancouver.

Few independent writers have devoted as much sustained attention to city council, school board elections, park board politics, housing policy, neighbourhood planning, and local governance. Mr. Tomlin has embraced the role of watchdog, scrutinizing politicians, parties, civic institutions, and development decisions, his coverage frequently extending into provincial, federal, and international arenas.

Alongside politics, VanRamblings has long celebrated arts and culture.

Cinema — for years one of Mr. Tomlin’s great loves — occupies a particularly prominent place in Mr. Tomlin’s journalistic life.

Mr. Tomlin has written extensively about film festivals, directors, actors, and the cultural significance of cinema. At present, Mr. Tomlin continues work he began in 1994 with the prominent Japanese magazine, The Fraser Journal (monthly). Even through his various health travails, Mr. Tomlin has never missed a Journal publishing deadline, in 22+ years.

Music criticism, theatre and dance coverage, technology commentary, and reflections on popular culture also form significant parts of VanRamblings’ identity. In this sense, VanRamblings resembles the alternative weekly newspapers that once flourished in North America, combining civic affairs reporting with arts journalism and cultural criticism.

The writing style itself is also unmistakably personal.

Mr. Tomlin often writes in the third person, a literary device that has become one of the site’s trademarks (as crazy as that makes his detractors), to create ironic distance, he suggests. Mr. Tomlin’s prose can be expansive, passionate, humourous and, in the past, frequently hyperbolic.

Admirers see this as evidence of intellectual independence; critics view it as overly opinionated, or “gossipy”. Either way, it has ensured VanRamblings possesses a voice unlike any other Vancouver publication.

Raymond Tomlin raised Jude and Megan as a single parent

Beyond journalism, Mr. Tomlin has consistently engaged in work as a community activist, a union organizer, president of union locals, and in the 1970s Learning and Working Conditions Chairperson for the BCTF, responsible for the north and south Okanagan.

In VanRamblings, Mr. Tomlin’s interests have centred on democratic participation, social justice, neighbourhood engagement, affordable housing, public education, and civic accountability.

Throughout his writing, Mr. Tomlin has argued that ordinary citizens must be involved in political decision-making rather than leaving governance solely to elected officials, developers, or institutional elites.

Mr. Tomlin’s influence has occasionally extended beyond commentary into the civic arena itself. Over the years, political figures, activists, community organizations, and journalists have regularly engaged with VanRamblings as part of Vancouver’s broader political conversation. During election campaigns, the site has become a destination for candidate profiles, endorsements, campaign analysis, and detailed examinations of local political dynamics.

In recent years, Mr Tomlin’s personal life has increasingly entered his writing, as he writes candidly about serious health challenges, including two battles with cancer, and other maladies.

Mr. Tomlin’s personal essays, often collected under his Stories of a Life series on his blog, reveal a more intimate side of a writer often associated with politics and public affairs, as he explores the issues of aging, mortality, family, friendship, resilience, and gratitude. Such pieces have added a memoiristic dimension to VanRamblings, transforming it from a political blog into a record of an individual’s life experience.

Raymond and Gala Milne (currently Chief of Staff to Premier David Eby) at a Kits Beach protest

Now in his mid-70s, Mr. Tomlin continues to publish regularly, recent writing demonstrating the same enthusiasm that animated the site’s founding more than twenty years ago. Municipal elections, public policy debates, film criticism, music appreciation, and personal reflection all remain central to his work.

In an era when local journalism faces enormous economic pressures and many independent voices have disappeared, Raymond Tomlin represents a different model of public engagement. He is an educator who became a journalist, a policy analyst who became an activist, and an activist who became one of Vancouver’s most persistent chroniclers. Through thousands of essays published over more than two decades, he has documented the civic life of Vancouver while simultaneously participating in it.

Through VanRamblings, Mr. Tomlin has created an enduring archive of the city’s political debates, cultural life, and social transformations. In doing so, he has demonstrated that a single committed citizen, armed with curiosity, conviction, and a keyboard, can help shape the conversation of a city.

Stories of a Life | Redux | Chief Cook & Bottle Washer

August 31, 2024Essay, fixin to die rag, Food & Health, Jude and Megan, Stories of a Life Redux, VanRamblingsjude, megan, simon fraser universityRaymond Tomlin

1978. Jude, at age 3½, and Megan at near 2 years of age. At the kitchen table for breakfast.

A couple of weeks ago, when I was extolling the virtues of my Instant Pot to a friend, in a lull in the conversation, she turned to me and said, “You like to cook, don’t you?”

The short answer: I derive pleasure from both cooking and baking.

Here’s the story behind my love for the culinary powers of the kitchen.

1616 Semlin Drive, at E. 1st Ave. in Vancouver. One of the homes I lived in growing up.

From my earliest days, I fended for myself.

My mother worked three jobs, and my father worked the afternoon shift at the Post Office. When I arrived home from school, although my father often left a stew bubbling away in the slow cooker, from age seven on, for the most part if I wanted to eat, I’d have to make breakfast, lunch and dinner for myself, and for my sister.

So, being somewhat industrious, I learned to cook — well, make sandwiches and, for dessert, Jello, at least for the first few years.

I loved turkey growing up (all that triptiphan), so with the help of my mother, I learned to make her delicious turkey, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes and vegetables. For the most part, though, my cooking skills were rudimentary — but I didn’t starve, and more often than not there was food in my belly.

When in 1970, Cathy and I moved in together, marrying soon after, I was responsible for most of the cooking. Cathy’s mom sent her out $1000 a month (she didn’t know we were living together), visiting every three months, taking us to the local Woodward’s grocery floor, where she dropped in excess of $300 at each visit.

With Cathy’s mother money, we ate a fairly staple diet of generously thick T-bone steaks and baked potatoes.

Simon Fraser University’s Louis Riel House, SFU’S student family 1 + 2 bedroom residence.

Soon after moving into the Louis Riel Student Residence at Simon Fraser University in 1971, Cathy joined a women’s group, who met every Wednesday evening. Among the decisions that were taken by the women’s group was this: men shall participate in all household chores, and share in all food preparation.

As we often ate together with other of the students in the residence, my specialty became salads — all different kinds of healthy, nutritious salads, chock full of vegetables, nuts, sunflower seeds, and more.

At this point, Cathy still hated to cook — there was immense pressure placed on Cathy by her peers to develop culinary skills, but she refused. All that changed in the summer of 1973, which is a story for another day.

2182 East 2nd Avenue, in the Grandview Woodland neighbourhood of Vancouver.

When Cathy and I separated in 1978 — Jude and I lived in the home above, before Jude, Megan and I moved to Simon Fraser University and Louis Riel House, when I began work on my Masters degree — the thought occurred to me one morning when making breakfast that I was now the lone parent, and the sole person responsible for ensuring the children ate nutritious foods at each meal in order that they might grow up into healthy adults.

I took on the task of learning the art of cooking (and baking), in earnest.

There was, however, a quid pro quo involved.

After returning from a day of larnin’ and T.A.’ing at SFU, after picking up the children at daycare at 4:30pm, and walking the relatively short distance to our two-bedroom apartment at Louis Riel House, while the children played with their friends on the lawn in front of our apartment, I prepared dinner, calling them in about 45 minutes after dinner preparation had begun.

The kids were famished, and so was I.

Here’s where the quid pro quo came in: at the end of each meal, each of the children had to turn and say to me some version of, “Daddy that was a good dinner. It was mmmm, delicious. Thank you for making dinner for all of us, and all the work you put in to feeding us healthy and nutritious breakfasts, lunches and dinners, and all those wonderful desserts we love!”

I needed the incentive provided to me by both children, and their gratitude — which, in time, they came to acknowledge as their own. The kids felt good about encouraging me, as I encouraged them in all of their endeavours.

We were a happy family, and all was well with the world for the three of us.

Now, I was an adventuresome cook, and not everything I made turned out to the liking of all of us, or each one of us.

Being a dedicated democrat, Jude, Megan and I made a deal with one another in respect of dinner. Both children had to eat at least two bites of each food item I prepared: after all the work I put into preparing a dish, the least they could do was try out the dish to see whether they might like it.

Most of the time they did, but sometimes not.

One night, I made cream of escargot soup. Honestly, it wasn’t bad. But at the end of the soup entrée, I turned to the children and asked them what they thought, to which they replied almost in unison, “It was all right, tasty enough I suppose, but I’m not sure if I’d ever want to have it again.”

I agreed with them. We never ate cream of escargot soup ever again.

Each of us were allowed to have three foods on a list of our creation, foods we did not have to eat, no matter what.

Megan had three foods, Jude had three foods, and I had three foods — those foods changed over a period of time.

In order to add a food to our individual “nah, I don’t want to eat that food” list, some food on each of our lists had to come off. Took some thought on the part of the children as to whether they wanted to remove a food.

Megan, for a great long while didn’t like avocados — but one day, while placing a new food she didn’t like onto her “don’t eat” list, she took avocados off her list, eventually coming to love avocados, as she does to this day.

Watching me prepare meals all the time he was growing up caused Jude to want to become a chef — he worked in the food industry throughout his late teens and twenties, before getting into teaching, which paid better, and was overall less stressful, with “more honourable people”, he’d say to me.

In her teens, Megan became a vegan — there’s a story there, too, which I’ll leave for another day — and, for the most part, took on the preparation of her own meals, as did Jude over a period of time.

After the summer of 1973, Cathy became a great cook — there’s not much I miss about that tumultuous marriage, but I sure miss Cathy’s avant-garde cooking, her culinary craftsmanship, spicing and phenomenally delicious cooking.

Ah well.

Stories of a Life | Redux | The Ties That Bind Daughters and Fathers

August 24, 2024Essay, fixin to die rag, Jude and Megan, Stories of a Life Redux, Vancouver, VanRamblingsbctf, cathy, jude, meganRaymond Tomlin

When Megan Jessica Tomlin was born on a Saturday night, March 26th, 1977, at Burnaby General Hospital at 10:26pm, given that she was a breech birth, the hospital room was filled with a harried collection of nurses and doctors and an anesthesiologist who’d been called to assist with the birth.

As a medicated Cathy lay peacefully, stock still on her white-sheeted hospital bed — given that she was infused with anaesthetic drugs to aid in the birth, to keep her sedated for what turned out to be her second, very difficult birth — upon delivery, a nurse gathered our new daughter, Megan, and brought her over to me, as I stood to Cathy’s left, just behind where her head lay, and handed my hushed newborn daughter into my arms.

For the 10 minutes that followed, a seeming lifetime of remembrance and love, Megan her eyes all blue peered directly into my eyes and deep into my soul, and for those few brief moments I into hers, as my daughter imprinted on me / bonded with me as the father who would become in her early years, and in succeeding years through to her late teens, the single most transformative person in her life, a father she trusted & loved with all her generous heart.

In the weeks that followed Megan’s birth, the wheels began to fall off the bus that was my marriage to Cathy, as Cathy seemed to lose herself, quitting her job at the Ministry of Human Resources office, drinking, staying out all night long, and otherwise engaging in self-destructive behaviour.

Why?

Given my position as the British Columbia Teachers’ Federation Learning and Working Conditions Chair for the Interior, and my long years of work previous with the Federation, and the great relationship I’d developed with Linda Shuto — working with her to form the first Status of Women office within an NGO anywhere on the continent — as well as BCTF President Jim McFarlane and, more especially with BCTF Vice-President Don Walmsley, as you might well expect from a Federation comprised of mainly older members, Executive plans were afoot for Federation generational leadership change — and I was targeted as the person who would become a future BCTF President.

Don Walmsley visited Cathy and me multiple times throughout 1977, in our newly acquired Interior home, to advise the both of us that plans were in process to, at the spring BCTF AGM in 1978, run me as a second vice-president of the Federation, with an eye to soon becoming BCTF President.

Here’s how the Federation saw it, Don explaining to the both of us: my organizing bona fides in the Interior had gained provincial attention, Cathy and I were a young couple “from the Interior” (the left of the Federation liked the idea of running candidates from rural areas), Cathy was a professional, was sophisticated and presented well, we had two children — we were, as far as the Federation was concerned, “the perfect couple”.

Here’s what Don Walmsley told Cathy and I …

“Next year, Raymond, we’ll run you for 2nd VP. Cathy, you can run as a Board of Education COPE trustee candidate for Vancouver School Board. Raymond, we’ll find you a job in Vancouver, find you a house, and Cathy we’ll make sure you’re employed, as well, finding you a job in the city similar to what you’re doing up here. Next year (1978), once you’re on the Executive, Raymond, and have moved down to the city, you’ll be closer to the Federation offices.

In 1979, we’ll run you for 1st VP, and depending on how the election goes for President of the Federation, if our candidate loses, we’ll run you for President in 1980. If our candidate wins, and serves a three year term, we’ll run you for President in 1983.”

Sounded good to me — and not so good to Cathy, as elucidated above.

Once Don had left our home, Cathy told me that she had no intention of having the next 20 years of her life being planned by the teachers’ federation, nor was she enamoured of the idea of living in my shadow.

Understandable.

You know how when you’re watching an awards show on TV, and the winner is (almost invariably) a man, the first person he thanks, whom he gushes over, is his wife, saying ardently, “I couldn’t have done it without her — she’s been my rock, and has stood by my side throughout the entire journey that has led to tonight. I will love you for always, my beloved.”

Believe me when I write: Cathy was having none of that arrant palaver.

The summer of 1977, when Megan was a few months old, and Jude was two years of age

Long story short, by early 1978, I had been awarded custody of both Jude and Megan, Cathy was off gallivanting around the globe, drinking and carousing with a rock ‘n roll band she’d joined — and I was left to raise our two infant children.

From the outset, Megan was a bright and engaged child, far ahead of her milestone maturational markers — walking at 9 months, speaking at age 1, reading at 18 months — and by the time she was two years of age, as in control of her environment as any 11-year-old child of my acquaintance.

Where Jude — 21 months Megan’s senior — wanted to be out and about all the time, one of the friendliest, most gregarious and social children you’d ever want to meet, Megan was quiet, reserved, pensive and thoughtful, as big a “daddy’s girl” as could possibly be imagined, by my side throughout the day, and separated from me only when she was in daycare, or asleep.

As Cathy and I often remarked to one another as Megan was growing up, “Whose child is this, anyway? Megan certainly can’t be ours — she’s just so much brighter & more capable than either of us, or both of us combined.”

For me, there has never been anyone to whom I have been closer, who has understood me and “had my number”, with whom my relationship has proved more loving & honest than has long been the case with Megan & me.

We acknowledge — as if we have known each other across many lifetimes — that we have found one another on this Earth, in this lifetime, and as I josh Megan by referring to her as her very own diety, in this life the two of us take succour in the knowledge that we love one another, that as we live lives that are separate, Megan now married with children, and me in my west side home spending hours each day writing stories just like this, that as we run across one another from time to time, as we often do in my Kitsilano neighbourhood, that the first words each of us will utter will be, “I love you” — as we set about to continue our day.

The knowing glance tells you everything you need to know about fathers & daughters.

Stories of a Life | Redux | Jude, Megan and Me | Movies | 80s and 90s

August 17, 2024Cinema, Jude and Megan, Stories of a Life Redux, VanRamblingscinema, dangerous liasons, flamingo kid, jude, megan, vancouver international film festivalRaymond Tomlin

Film has always been a central, organizing force in my relationship with both my daughter, Megan, and my son, Jude.

Our collective love of the cinema, attending film festivals and discussing what we saw following the various screenings we attended (usually at the Fresgo Inn on Davie, which was alive no matter the time of night or early morning) was, over the years, a central feature of our relationship — the relationship between son and daughter, and dad — that allowed us to delve deep into discussions of the meaning of life, and our collective responsibility to work towards creating a fairer and more just world for everyone.

Heart and deep caring for humanity was at the centre of our love of film, and at the centre of our loving familial relationship, informing the choices we made about how we would conduct ourselves in the world, and the projects and causes to which we would devote our time and our energies.

In the 1980s, when Cathy and I were going through a rancorous divorce, film brought us together.

When in Seattle — which we visited frequently, always staying on the non-smoking 33rd floor of the Weston twin towers — in 1984, we took in a screening of Garry Marshall’s The Flamingo Kid — the story of a working class boy (Matt Dillon) who takes a summer job at a beach resort and learns valuable life lessons.

Megan was seven years of age, and Jude 9 — both were uncertain about the efficacy of our trip south (without their mother’s permission — we called her upon arriving at our hotel), but the screening alleviated and, finally, repaired any of their concerns, and all went well that weekend. Fortuitously, too, upon our return, the divorce proceedings inexplicably moved forward into a more reasonable and thoughtful direction, reflective of all our collective concerns.

Whenever there was “trouble” in our relationship — generated, most usually, by their mother — film served to salve the wounds of dysfunction, allowing us to find our collective centre while healing the wounds that rent all of our lives during a decade-long, million dollar custody dispute.

Film spoke to us, made us better, took us out of the drudgery of our too often protean daily and, more often, troubled lives, and engaged us while putting our lives into a broader and more human scale perspective. Never once was there a film that we saw together when we didn’t come out of the screening feeling more whole, and more at one with ourselves and the world.

Such was true, at the screenings of Glenn Close and John Malkovich’s Dangerous Liaisons over the holiday period in 1988, or months later at the screening of Kevin Costner’s Field of Dreams, which we took in at the Oakridge Theatre, a favourite and comforting cinema haunt of ours.

When Megan wanted some “alone time” with me, it almost always revolved around watching a film together, although as Megan matured (and as her love for film matured), Megan made it plain that she was present in the theatre to watch the film, not “share time” with me, choosing always to sit in a whole other section of the theatre (it drove her crazy in the times that we were sitting together in a theatre that I would check in occasionally with her, looking at her to determine how she felt about the film — talking during a film was an unforgivable sin, so that was never going to happen).

Some days, Megan would call and say, “Dad, take me to a film.”

And because I was a film critic at the time, and had a pass to attend at any cinema in North America, off the two of us would traipse to see Kathy Bates’ Fried Green Tomatoes (1991) or Johnny Depp’s Benny & Joon (1993) at the old 12-theatre complex downstairs in the Royal Centre mall.

Other times, post dinner and after Megan had finished her homework, I’d say to Megan out of the blue, “I’m heading out to attend a screening of a film. Do you want to come along with me?” Megan would ponder my question for a moment before asking, “Which film?”

In 1991, one very long film screening we attended was Kevin Costner’s directorial début, Dances With Wolves, about which we knew nothing other than it starred one of our favourite actors, and off the two of us went.

At screening’s end (Megan and I actually sat together at this particular screening, which took place in the huge Granville 7 Cinema 7, because the preview theatre screening room was just packed), Megan turned to me, and said, “Dad, I knew this was going to be a great film.” And it was. “And, you know what else? It’s going to pick up a raft of Oscars this year, too, and be considered one of the, if not the best, films of the year.”

Jude and Megan also attended film festival screenings with me.

Almost inevitably, Vancouver International Film Festival founder, and co-owner of Festival Cinemas Leonard Schein was present with his wife Barbara, and at a screening’s end, Megan would make her way over to wherever Leonard and Barbara were sitting to enquire of him whether or not he intended to book the film into either the Varsity, Park or Starlight.

Following screenings of Neil Jordan’s 1992 putative multiple Oscar award winner, The Crying Game or, that same year, Baz Luhrmann’s Strictly Ballroom, Megan marched over to Leonard, and asked him boldfacedly, “What do you think?”

When Leonard indicated that he thought the films were not quite his cup of tea, that both films would have difficulty finding an audience, and that it was unlikely he’d be booking either film into one of his cinemas, Megan lit into Leonard with a passion and a vehemence I had rarely observed coming from her, saying …

“Are you out of your mind? Strictly Ballroom and The Crying Game are wonderful films, and just the sort of films that not only should you book, but that you MUST book — these are both groundbreaking films that will only serve to reinforce your reputation as an arts cinema impresario, but will also make you a tonne of money, and we all know that you’re all about the money. Either you book these films into The Varsity, or believe me when I tell you that there’ll be hell to pay when you see me next.”

And with that, Megan marched off.

At the 1990 Vancouver International Film Festival, I’d caught a screening of Whit Stillman’s directorial début, Metropolitan, in preview, and knew that this would be a film Megan would just love (and be astounded by, at the revelation of one of the characters, mid-film).

I made arrangements to pick Megan up from University Hill Secondary at 3pm sharp on the day of the festival screening, we drove downtown, found a parking spot, and rushed over to The Studio Cinema on Granville to catch the 4pm screening of Metropolitan — which as I had predicted, Megan loved.

In early December 1993, on a particularly chilly and overcast day, at 10am in Cinema 2 at the Granville 7 theatre complex, I caught a screening of Jonathan Demme’s groundbreaking new film, Philadelphia — a film about which I knew little, and a film that knocked me out (along with the handful of film critics in attendance at the theatre for the screening).

Emerging from the theatre just after noon, making my way onto Granville, I looked for the nearest telephone in order that I might call Megan at school.

I called the office at University Hill Secondary, and asked them to find Megan and bring her to the phone. When Megan asked, “Dad, is everything all right?”, I told her about the film I had just seen, and that when it opened in January, I wanted to take her and Jude to a screening at the Granville 7. We talked about the film for a few minutes, with her saying about 10 minutes in, “I’m holding up the school phone, and calls coming in. Let’s get together after school. Come and pick me up, and we can continue our conversation. I’ll see you then, Dad. I love you.”

There are gifts we give our children. From my parents, it was what would emerge as a lifelong love for country music. For Jude and Megan, my gift was a love of music, a love of the ballet, and an abiding love for film.