Editorial: On the Road with One of the Good Ones

It had been a while since I’d sat down to write one of these columns. Life, work, and everything in between had kept the keyboard cold. But sometimes, inspiration doesn't wait for a perfect schedule. It shows up unexpectedly, often in the quiet moments—like a two-hour drive on the Alaskan Highway, with one of the “good ones” riding shotgun.

That inspiration came in the form of a drive from Whitehorse to Haines Junction, Yukon. I was heading west for the 50th Anniversary of the Association of Yukon Communities, an important milestone for northern municipal leaders. But it wasn’t just the celebration that stayed with me. It was the conversation, the perspective, and the unexpected reflection that came from riding with Tyler Gandam.

Now, if you’re not from Alberta or involved in municipal politics, you might not recognize the name. But you should. Tyler Gandam is the Mayor of Wetaskiwin, Alberta—a city with its own unique history, struggles, and spirit—and he currently serves as the President of Alberta Municipalities, the organization that represents the province’s urban communities of all sizes. And while job titles often tell us what someone does, they rarely capture who they are.

And who Tyler Gandam is? He’s one of the good ones.

It started simply enough: I picked Tyler up at his hotel in Whitehorse. The road to Haines Junction stretches just under two hours, but what we found in that short span was more than mileage—it was the kind of genuine, meandering, open-hearted dialogue that only the open road can provide.

There’s something freeing about driving through the Yukon wilderness, where towering mountains and endless skies serve as a kind of spiritual amplifier.

Conversation flows easier without cell reception and distractions. And when you're with someone like Tyler, it doesn't take long for the small talk to deepen.

Tyler isn’t the loudest voice in the room, nor does he demand attention. Instead, he listens—truly listens. He picks up on nuance, remembers details, and responds with intention. He’s one of those rare individuals who can make even complex issues feel approachable. Whether you're a policy wonk or someone who's never looked twice at a municipal budget, Tyler will meet you where you are.

What struck me most during our drive was Tyler's deep respect for local government and its potential to impact lives. He talks about municipalities not as bureaucracies, but as living, breathing communities—places where real people raise families, start businesses, struggle, dream, and thrive.

In our current political climate, where divisiveness often grabs headlines and extremism takes the stage, Tyler’s brand of leadership feels almost radical in its simplicity: be respectful, be reasonable, and get things done.

He doesn’t care what party you vote for. Red, Blue, Orange, Green, Purple—it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you come to the table with a plan, a willingness to collaborate, and an honest commitment to bettering your community. Ideology is secondary to service.

And it’s not just talk.

He’s there—in the meetings, at the legislature, on the phone, in the room. He shows up. Whether the conversation is about Bill 18, 20, 21, or Bill 50—each a piece of legislation with the power to reshape how municipalities operate—Tyler is present, informed, and advocating. He’s not afraid to speak truth to power, but he does so with the kind of diplomacy that makes people lean in instead of tuning out.

Leadership today too often rewards the loudest, the most combative, the ones with the sharpest elbows. But Tyler reminds us that calm, steady, thoughtful leadership has its own kind of power.

He’s the kind of person who can sit through a heated meeting, take in a dozen different viewpoints, and then—after a moment of contemplation—offer a single sentence that reframes the entire discussion. It’s not always flashy. It doesn’t always make the evening news. But it’s effective. And it builds trust.

That’s a skill more valuable than ever, especially as Alberta municipalities navigate turbulent waters. Challenges abound—funding shortfalls, infrastructure needs, housing pressures, and relations with other levels of governments. And yet, amidst all this, Tyler remains a source of stability and forward-thinking.

It’s easy to get cynical in politics. The headlines rarely celebrate collaboration or compromise. They prefer conflict, missteps, and scandal. But behind the curtain of public perception are leaders who grind it out every day—not for fame, not for money, but for the simple, stubborn belief that things can get better.

Tyler Gandam is one of those leaders.

He believes in rolling up his sleeves. In building bridges, not walls. He believes that respect isn’t earned through yelling the loudest, but through consistent, principled action. And perhaps most importantly, he believes in people—his community, his colleagues, and yes, even those who disagree with him.

I’ve known Tyler for about two years now. In that time, I’ve seen him offer a hand when someone needed support, lend his voice when it would elevate others, and step back when someone else needed the mic. He’s a true ally—professionally and personally. He’s proof that you can lead with both your head and your heart.

Some might ask: why does this matter? Why spend a column on a politician from a mid-sized Alberta city?

Because leadership like Tyler’s is rare. And in times like these—when politics feels more like theatre and less like service—we need to recognize and amplify the ones who are doing it right.

Because municipal leaders often go unnoticed. They don’t get the national coverage. Their decisions aren’t always glamorous. But they touch our lives every single day—in the roads we drive, the water we drink, the parks we play in, and the services we rely on.

Because our future depends not just on who sits in federal or provincial office, but on the strength and resilience of our local communities. And strong communities are built by people like Tyler Gandam.

As we arrived in Haines Junction, the mountains greeted us with quiet dignity. The community was buzzing with municipal leaders from across the Yukon, gathered to celebrate 50 years of local governance. There was optimism in the air—a belief that by working together, we could meet the challenges ahead.

And in the midst of that optimism stood Tyler, shaking hands, listening closely, encouraging ideas. Not dominating the stage, but empowering others to step up. That’s the kind of leader he is.

So no, I don’t believe in fate. I don’t think the universe arranges our lives with grand design. But I do believe in moments. I believe in the clarity of a Yukon highway, the power of an honest conversation, and the kind of company that leaves you thinking long after the car has stopped.

Tyler Gandam is one of the good ones. And Canada is lucky to have him - even if he's a Vancouver Canucks fan - said the Anaheim Ducks fan.