SENATORS’ STATEMENTS — The Honourable Bev Busson, C.M., C.O.M., O.B.C.

Honourable senators, I have spent a long time trying to put pen to paper to express the overwhelming mixed emotions I am feeling as I rise for the very last time in this place. I am so honoured to have the chance to speak, given the important debates taking place this week, and I promise not to take too much of the valuable time we have left. As my hubby reminds me, it’s not all about me.

Let me begin by expressing my wholehearted thanks to all who offered remarks and for their kind words. Thank you to the Speaker of the Senate, the Honourable Raymonde Gagné, for your unfaltering leadership and the respectful example you set for all of us each and every day.

Thank you to my colleagues in the Independent Senators Group for their support and friendship, along with our facilitator, Senator Lucie Moncion, for her dedication. I want to sincerely thank the hard-working staff of the entire Senate Administration, led by the Clerk of the Senate, Shaila Anwar, along with Greg Peters, the Usher of the Black Rod, for his commitment to service, and for all the little extra things that you have done for us, Greg, over the years. Thank you to your team and to John Shand, along with his outstanding Senate pages, who all work so hard to keep us comfortable and find everything we need.

I would like to thank all the members of the Standing Senate Committee on Fisheries and Oceans for the confidence they placed in me as deputy chair, even though there was the occasional coup by Senator Ravalia to step in and take my place. In particular, I thank the chair, Senator Fabian Manning, for his leadership in conducting one of the best committees in the Senate, but more importantly, I want to thank him for his friendship.

I am also deeply grateful for the trust placed in me to serve as Deputy Chair of the Standing Committee on Ethics and Conflict of Interest for Senators, one of the other best committees in the Senate. I want to thank Senator Peter Harder for his service, wisdom, exemplary leadership and thoughtful stewardship.

I thank all my colleagues on the Standing Committee on Rules, Procedures and the Rights of Parliament, another best committee in the Senate. I am proud of the important work we have done on Senate modernization, making it a stronger and fairer part of our democracy. The Senate has more important changes to come.

A special thank you to all my fellow senators who have become more than colleagues to me. I did not expect, when I began this journey, that this experience would bring so many lifelong friendships into my life. There are too many of you to thank individually, but you know who you are. To my Senate gals — Iris, Margo, Jane, Joan and Marty — and the occasional Senate guy, you’ve made difficult times much easier and much more fun. You turned my time in the Senate into a truly remarkable chapter of my life, and for that I will always be grateful.

How can I not mention my seatmate of eight years, Senator Marty Deacon? As she mentioned, we managed to remain inseparable, even though we often have differing opinions on debates and motions. I have come to value your advice, Marty, and your counsel, not to mention your amazing sense of humour.

Finally, I would be remiss if I did not recognize and thank my Director of Parliamentary Affairs and friend, June Jones.

Thank you, June, for your friendship, advice and unwavering support since my appointment in 2018. June, thank you for your years of service, your loyalty and your amazing ability to always be there when I called you, even with three time zones to deal with. You were always there to pick up the phone. I am deeply grateful for all that you have done for me, my dear friend.

I also had the good fortune to work with John Shand in my office before he was scooped by Greg Peters — actually, Greg and I planned his career and surprised him with a different option — and also with Gerry Byrne Jr., who is now in London, England, studying law. It is always exciting to mentor young people and watch them reach their true potential in life.

I am eternally grateful for the women and men of the Parliamentary Protective Service for their overwatch and dedication to keeping us all safe.

One of the things I learned the hard way about being a senator is how easy it is to spend your days being consumed by things that seem important and, indeed, are important, but if we don’t stop to appreciate the small moments and special people along the way, the whole experience can be over before you know it. I am thinking of our dear friend and colleague, Senator Josée Forest-Niesing, gone too soon in the blink of an eye.

I’m also thinking of the small moments, like the friendly morning conversations with the maintenance staff or talking with Santa when he’s cleaning the floors outside the chamber to keep the Senate crystal clean or the ladies in the cafeteria, careful not to put tomatoes in my sandwich, or the chats and moments of laughter with colleagues in the corridors between votes and meetings, as well as the friendship and collegiality that makes this institution not just a workplace but also a close-knit community.

Above all, I want to thank and pay tribute to my family. I could not have done this without them. I owe you so much for the love and support you have sent my way over the years, especially when I missed birthdays, graduations and other special occasions because Grandma was “running the place,” as my granddaughter told her teacher when asked what her grandmother does in Ottawa.

I thank my son Brent and his wife, Mariko, and two of my four grandchildren, Brooklyn and Madison, along with my daughter Erin, an ex-member, and her husband, Greg, who is a serving member, with their children — my grandchildren — Jordynn and Ethan. They are back home in British Columbia, watching all of this on TV. My grandchildren think I am cool because I am on Wikipedia.

But above and beyond the call of duty, I want to thank my husband, Philip. From the time we wed, he has been my rock, my strength, my wise adviser and my best friend. Not all men can be married to a Mountie, support her through the transition from investigator to leading the force and, years later, in my second life here, still be there for me when I return after four days away and a 6,000-kilometre round trip to the centre of the universe and all that entails. I love you more than you know and promise not to be too bossy when I am home on a full-time basis.

Speaking of family, here with me today is my little sister Janice Scott. She flew in from Halifax for the occasion. Over the years, she has evolved from the little girl I used to babysit to an amazing woman, my travelling companion before I got married and even after and the best friend I ever had. Thank you for standing beside me over the years, sister, and for always being there. I can only hope that I was there for you in the same way. I love you so much.

Also here with me today are two of my best friends of over 50 years, Rex and Deb Henry. Rex and I were recruits together in our first posting of Salmon Arm, and soon after, he married Deb. They have two daughters, Erica and Kristan. Kristan is here today. Both of these young women are my goddaughters.

Staff Sergeant Kristan Henry runs the Undercover Internet Child Rescue Unit here at the RCMP headquarters. I am so very proud of her. She has two of her children here, Vega and Vigo. Another son is graduating today and could not be here. I cannot express how much it means to me to have you here to share this day with me.

As I thought about my time in the Senate, I came to fully appreciate the remarkable view from my office window, which overlooks the National War Memorial, and all that it represents. This time of year, the sound of bagpipes calls me to remember the fallen and those who returned alive but never quite the same, having served and sacrificed for the freedoms we often take for granted.

I think of my parents, who served in World War II. My father, at age 18, joined the navy and spent the war in Europe, doing the Murmansk Run three times. We heard about that a lot. He told us that these missions were death-defying, and I understand that they were.

He also saw action in the Pacific, and witnessed — from afar, thankfully — the mushroom cloud from the atom bomb at Hiroshima.

I think of my mother, who, at 16 years of age, “reinvented” her date of birth and enlisted in the Canadian Armed Forces to also serve her country during the Second World War. Born in a small town in Nova Scotia, she grew up poor and was one of 13 children. Although this was an adventure for her, she was a proud member of the Armed Forces and sometimes spoke about friends of hers who never came back. Later, when the Canadian Women’s Army Corps, or CWAC, was disbanded, she finished her education, married my father and started our family.

Women like my mother were true pioneers, serving their country with dedication while breaking down barriers for those who would follow. They embodied the very meaning of service and sacrifice while proving their worth so that future generations of women could pursue their ambitions, reach their full potential and dream beyond the limits society placed on them at that time.

I suppose, in hindsight, I carry some of my mother’s spirit in my DNA, because after graduating from Nova Scotia Teachers College, as you heard, I too decided to pursue a career outside the gender norms of the day.

As people pointed out, I was driving past my local RCMP detachment on the day they announced that they were taking women. At that time, it was a surprise to everyone — except, I suspect, the higher echelons — that this was happening, and it really was quite a moment. Teaching was something that I was interested in, but that day it was as if destiny were calling me. I found out later that I am a bit of an adrenaline junkie, so I find that I made the right decision.

After writing a number of exams, taking interviews and having a medical — with a medical form for males, I might add. There was a part where I was supposed to cough as the doctor checked my prostate. I passed that somehow, but that is a story for another day.

Four months later, I was in training with 31 other incredible women who together formed Troop 17, the first class of women. We created a bit of a media storm, as you can imagine. When we were there, we had people from the CBC and other news agencies descend on Depot in Regina. The RCMP was completely unprepared for the introduction of women.

As was stated, the uniform, I found out later when I had access to some files, was designed by the same company that designed the Air Canada uniforms of the day. As you can imagine, it was all fashion and no function. It is true that there were purses designed to carry a snub-nosed revolver. Our instructor said, “Ladies, you had better learn to swing that purse because you will never get your gun out in time.” I am not making this up. Thankfully, they quickly reconsidered the gun thing. Before we graduated, we were allowed to have a Sam Browne with a real gun, a six-shot Smith & Wesson, like the other Mounties. It took about 16 years for us to be allowed to wear the traditional red serge, Stetson and high boots that we have all come to recognize as an international symbol of Canada.

I didn’t realize at the time that I was changing history. I never thought of myself as a trailblazer. I just wanted to serve my community and make a difference.

In those days, over 50 years ago, portable radios did not exist. Members worked alone and covered midnight shifts with no backup. I, more than once, wondered if I should have stayed in that teaching job. However, I have to say, I worked with heroes who treated me like a sister and made me feel that I belonged. I know that was not everyone’s experience, but it certainly was mine.

If I found myself in a situation where I had to arrest someone in a bar, the person had two choices: Fight a woman or lose a fight with a woman.

Both of these options would be made in front of their friends. Neither option would be elegant. Therefore, I learned early the art of de-escalation. On the odd occasion that the person did not agree to come with me voluntarily, the customers in the bar would stand up and help me.

I hear from my friends in the force that this is not necessarily the case today. Most people just pull out their cellphones and wait to see what will happen next — quite an alarming and disheartening change.

Over the years, after receiving my law degree from UBC, I rose through the ranks, as was mentioned, to be the first of this and the first of that. My son often teases me. Senator Klyne can attest to this. There is a whole stuffed horse in the museum in Regina. My son says that there is a place right next to that horse where they are going to stuff me and place me.

The biggest honour of my life was when I received a phone call from former Prime Minister Harper appointing me as the twenty-first Commissioner of the RCMP. I was completely awestruck. To be appointed to an office that I had always admired and respected so deeply felt almost like a dream. To sit behind the commissioner’s desk, with my family’s pictures on the walls, was an honour and privilege beyond anything I could have imagined.

When I assumed the role, the RCMP was in a dark place as far as morale was concerned, and a priority of mine was to let the members know that they had a commissioner who understood their struggles. I also wanted to remind Canadians that police officers are not simply uniforms and badges. They are real people. Every day, they show up and confront situations that most Canadians only experience in nightmares.

Often, they do so with limited resources, great personal sacrifice and little recognition. Yet they continue to answer calls for help, comforting victims and standing as the guardians between good and evil.

We should remember as senators today — and I remind myself that our position is both a privilege and a responsibility — that having an important status such as ours carries a rare opportunity to improve the lives of others. It is a call to action to make our community and our country better than we found it. We need to stay in touch with those we serve: the people of Canada. This can be difficult when we live in sheltered and privileged circumstances. When I was the commissioner, I would go to lunch in the cafeteria with the regular members rather than the officers’ dining room, to hear first-hand about the experiences, struggles, aspirations and challenges of members who were serving and how best I could support them. The deer-in-the-headlights looks when I came with my tray to choose at which table I was going to sit were very entertaining.

There is value in saying that you have to be able to understand people before you can serve them.

Someone wrote a little proverb that I often use to remind myself about my place, which reads, “Nobody cares how much you know until they know how much you care.” Compassion and trust are always the keys to success and credibility at any level.

More than 10 years after I received the call appointing me commissioner, I received another phone call from another prime minister, from a different party, appointing me as an independent senator for the province of British Columbia.

I never imagined that one day I would become a parliamentarian, but that attracted me again: the opportunity to serve and contribute, not directed by partisanship but by principle, with the freedom and responsibility to consider each issue based on its value to Canadians.

I feel privileged to have played a small part over the past eight years, engaged in this important work. From contributing to the landmark Fisheries and Oceans Committee report on the impact of seal populations on Canada’s fisheries and the groundbreaking report on carbon sequestration; to giving voice to British Columbians who opposed the oil tanker moratorium legislation; to helping showcase Haida Gwaii and the Haida Nation’s unique, rich Indigenous culture; and to sponsoring Bill S-12, a government bill substantially changing the Sex Offender Information Registration Act, it has been a true honour to be involved in these endeavours.

Beyond legislation, I was determined to use my voice to highlight the work of police and veterans, to speak to their experiences and give voices to those who serve but have no voice. It was also my way of reminding Canadians of the value of our precious institutions and our Canadian way of life. There is a reason that Canadian police officers are referred to in the Criminal Code as “peace officers,” leaving law enforcement as the last resort.

Colleagues, I do not think it’s a secret that this past decade has been difficult for law enforcement. I have been concerned about the increasing tendency by some to stereotype every police officer with criminal, or at least negative, motives. This has resulted in a wave of mistrust, disrespect and even violence toward our police officers, resulting in real and tragic consequences.

Our words matter — both in this chamber and beyond. What is said here is heard far and wide, and sometimes we need to realize that we have a responsibility to ensure that rhetoric does not drift away from reality. We must not allow public discourse around policing to be shaped by distortion or, even worse — and I believe this — the direct effects of foreign interference in an effort to attack and undermine our cherished institutions.

Throughout my years in the Senate, it has been my personal honour and privilege to rise in this chamber and highlight some of the heroes in policing. I have tried to recognize some of the outstanding members who have done amazing things, like going undercover to save children at risk of online danger, using their own funds to save children in Vietnam and Cambodia from sexual slavery or doing wellness checks at homeless encampments. Sadly, some police officers have died doing so.

When I joined the Senate, there were four former police officers serving in this hallowed chamber, including our beloved colleague Senator Gwen Boniface. Now, as I retire, I pass the torch to Senator Dhillon to continue being that strong and thoughtful voice for those who carry a badge.

I hope that I have made my parents, my family, the province of British Columbia and my country proud, and that I have been able to repay, even in a small way, the profound debt of gratitude I feel for the opportunities, trust and support that I have received throughout my life and career. As someone pointed out, my mother said to me that she never thought I’d get this far. I wish she could see me now.

Thank you, meegwetch.