It was on December 14, 1956, at a convention in Ottawa, that the Diefenbaker Years truly began.  On his third try in running for the Progressive Conservative Party’s leadership, the Prairie Firebrand that was John Diefenbaker made it to the political mountain top of Canada’s Progressive Conservative Party. In his Memoirs, One Canada, the great man described his feelings that momentous day.  “I was calm,” he wrote, “more so possibly than usual.  The opportunity that I had looked forward to was now given me, the opportunity to bring about, not a Canada of principalities, but a Canada in unity … I told the assembled delegates, and all Canadians, ‘We will be the next Government. We have an appointment with destiny.’ Of that I never had a doubt.” And, six months later Mr. Diefenbaker became Canada's 13th Prime Minister.  It had been quite a journey.  He served in that capacity from 1957-1963. Dief grew up on territory that later became Saskatchewan. __________ December 14, 1967: Lester Pearson announces his resignation It was on this date, in 1967, that the great Lester Pearson (arguably one of the most significant Prime Ministers in the modern-era) formally announced he would be retiring from politics.  This, of course, paved the way for the legendary 1968 Liberal leadership convention 4.5 months later that saw Pierre Trudeau elected leader and Prime Minister. I leave it to others smarter than me to discuss Mr. Pearson’s greatness, but I have a few personal observations to make.  As I started my career in journalism, that morphed into work in the field of political history full-time, I was struck by something all political people from that area would do.  Always, even in private, they called, with reverence – folks of all parties – the 14^th Prime Minister, “Mr. Pearson” as a sign of respect.  When speaking of other leaders they would use the last name, i.e. “Diefenbaker,” “Trudeau,” “King”, etc. And, as my friends know, I name all of mine and Alison’s pets after Canadian Prime Ministers and U.S. Presidents.  So, at our annual celebrations of Sir John A. Macdonald each January, my friend Hugh Segal, the happy warrior of Tory politics for decades, always attends at SJAM’s Kingston statue. One year a small group gathered and I brought our dog, Mr. Pearson, along for the ceremony.  When Hugh arrived, with his dog, he walked over to my pet and put his hand out so Mr. Pearson could shake a paw.  At that moment Segal asked me what my dog’s name was.  I told him our guy was named “Mr. Pearson.” Without batting an eye Hugh Segal responded, shaking “paws” again with our four-legged son:

“Mr. Pearson,” he said while the dog wagged his tail, “you are the best of a bad lot …”