#VanPoli | Frances Bula | A Must-Elect Candidate for Vancouver City Council


Frances Bula, running as a OneCity Vancouver Council candidate in the 2026 civic election

After a career spent observing Vancouver City Hall from the press gallery, journalist Frances Bula is attempting something entirely different.

In 2026, Ms. Bula is seeking a seat on Vancouver City Council, as a candidate with OneCity Vancouver. As is stated on OneCity’s website, “Frances’s candidacy marks one of the most significant transitions in recent Vancouver civic politics — a reporter who spent years scrutinizing elected officials is now asking voters to entrust her with public office.”

VanRamblings wholeheartedly supports Frances Bula’s candidacy for Vancouver City Council. We believe Frances Bula, who we have long known and respected, to be a must-elect at the polls, in our upcoming October civic election.

As Frances has written — the information also to be found in OneCity Vancouver literature — Ms. Bula’s career in journalism spans more than four decades.

According to her own biography, Frances Bula began her reporting career in southeastern B.C. in 1983, the very day a province-wide general strike began. From those beginnings in community journalism, she gradually developed a lifelong fascination with cities, and the political systems that shape them.

The Journalist Who Helped Interpret Vancouver City Politics

Frances Bula has spent so many years explaining Vancouver to itself that, for many residents, it is difficult to imagine the city’s civic conversation without her.

For more than three decades, Ms. Bula has occupied a unique place in Vancouver public life: part journalist, part historian, part urban anthropologist, and part translator of the often bewildering language of municipal politics.

Frances Bula’s career in journalism spans more than four decades.

The defining chapter of her career began in 1994, when she started covering Vancouver municipal politics and urban affairs.

Over the course of the following years, Ms. Bula became one of the most respected and recognizable civic-affairs reporters in British Columbia. At the Vancouver Sun, where she spent approximately two decades as a staff reporter, she covered City Hall, education, housing, transportation, homelessness, development, infrastructure, drug policy, and nearly every other issue that defines urban life.

One pivotal moment in Frances Bula’s life came in 1998-99 when she received the prestigious Atkinson Fellowship in Public Policy, after which she spent a year studying housing and homelessness issues, producing a major series and a documentary project that deepened her understanding of urban poverty and housing policy. Housing would become a central theme of her journalism.

Frances Bula Leaves the Vancouver Sun, to Re-Invent Her Journalism

In 2008, Ms. Bula left the Vancouver Sun, to become one of British Columbia’s most prominent freelance journalists, writing extensively for The Globe and Mail, as well as contributing to publications ranging from BCBusiness, Canadian Architect, Canadian Business, Western Living to The Guardian, and more.

Among Ms. Bula’s most influential post-Sun work was her column Urban Fix in Vancouver Magazine where from 2008 through 2015 she explored the challenges facing Vancouver as it grappled with growth, affordability, transportation, density, neighbourhood change, and urban planning, all while profiling a broad cross-section of political leaders, planners, community advocates, developers, architects, and the overlooked civic actors who influence how cities evolve, her work examining those in power and how power operates in urban environments.

Vancouver. Culture, Diversity, and Civic Life

Ms. Bula has long championed the idea cities are fundamentally about the citizens who reside in the city, and the communities in which they live.

Ms. Bula’s writing has highlighted Vancouver’s multicultural character, examining how immigrant communities shaped Vancouver neighbourhoods, transforming the city over time, reporting on Chinatown, the Punjabi Market, Richmond’s Asian communities, and Metro Vancouver’s changing demographics.

Similarly, Frances Bula has long possessed a deep interest in, and consistent supporter of, Vancouver’s cultural institutions and artistic life, her writing regularly exploring the connections between culture, public space, and civic identity.

Ms. Bula is also a supporter of the Vancouver International Film Festival, reflecting a broader interest that extended beyond politics, as she focused on film, the arts, and cultural expression, over the years emphasizing and prioritizing the importance of cultural institutions in creating vibrant, livable cities not solely about infrastructure, but about creativity, diversity, public life, and community.

Why Politics? What Frances Bula Hopes to Accomplish in Elected Office

The obvious question surrounding Frances Bula’s candidacy is simple: Why leave journalism for politics? Ms.Bula has offered a straightforward answer.

As she recently told journalist Kenneth Chan in the Daily Hive

“Journalism was my service to the public for decades. Now I want to do public service more directly.”

After decades documenting problems and analyzing solutions, in 2026 Frances Bula has decided that she wants a direct role in civic decision-making.

In her run to secure a seat on Vancouver City Council, in her campaign literature Frances Bula has emphasized housing, livability, transparency, and effective governance, as well as fighting for civic improvements that will make Vancouver function better for residents. Few candidates in Vancouver history would arrive at Vancouver City Hall with as deep an understanding of municipal governance and the institutional knowledge about how Vancouver City Hall operates.

Based on her writing and public statements, several priorities appear likely to define Frances Bula’s approach to public office.

  • Housing will almost certainly be central. Throughout her career she has treated housing affordability as Vancouver’s defining challenge;
  • Advocating for evidence-based policy making, drawing lessons from successful initiatives elsewhere;
  • Ms. Bula has also expressed an interest in improving the efficiency and effectiveness of municipal government. Her own experiences navigating the permitting process while building a laneway house provided first hand exposure to the frustrations many residents experience when dealing with City Hall;
  • Balancing growth with livability, recognizing Vancouver must accommodate more residents while preserving the qualities that make neighbourhoods attractive;
  • Strengthening public trust in local government through transparency, accountability, and thoughtful decision-making.

For 30-plus years, Frances Bula sat inside Council Chambers, notebook in hand, watching elected officials wrestle with the complexities of governing a rapidly changing city, observing the administrations of multiple mayors, political parties, planning movements, housing booms, and civic controversies, chronicling their triumphs and failures, ambitions and unintended consequences.

Few people understand Vancouver’s civic history as comprehensively as she.

Now, Frances Bula wants in, to step into the story she once covered.

For decades, Vancouver residents relied on Ms. Bula to explain City Hall.

In 2026, VanRamblings endorses the candidacy of Frances Bula for Vancouver City Council, as she asks the residents of our city for the opportunity to serve.

The journey — from reporter to candidate, from observer to participant — may prove to be one of the most intriguing civic stories Vancouver has seen in years.

VanRamblings asks you to vote for Frances Bula for Council this October.

#SundayMusic | Perfection | John Prine’s Remarkable, Eternal 1971 Début Album


Guitarist Jason Wilbur played on stage with John Prine for 1999’s  Live from Sessions at West 54th

One of the most celebrated singer/songwriters of his generation, John Prine was a master storyteller whose work was often witty and always heartfelt, frequently offering a sly but sincere reflection of his Midwestern roots, writing about the lives of ordinary people in a remarkable and perceptive way.

Widely cited as one of the most influential songwriters of his generation, Prine was known for his signature blend of humorous lyrics about love, life, and current events, often with elements of social commentary and satire, as well as sweet songs and melancholy ballads.

John Prine’s first record, simply titled John Prine (Atlantic, 1971), featured a photograph of the slightly impatient-looking young singer-songwriter seated on a bale of hay, hands cradled in his lap, with his guitar standing upright nearby.

The austerity of the image was a good reflection on the album’s contents: a baker’s dozen songs clocking in at about 43 minutes, performed mostly on acoustic guitar with a spare backing combo, delivered in a straightforward nasal drawl, with titles like Sam Stone, Donald and Lydia, Hello in There, Illegal Smile, and Souvenirs.

Beneath the casual simplicity of the presentation lies a treasure trove of lyrical beauty: detailed portraits of despair and loneliness, interspersed with witty cultural commentary about dimestore patriotism, back-to-nature movements, and the justice system’s obsession with people’s “illegal smiles.”

That first record wasn’t a big seller.

It peaked at #156 in the Billboard charts in 1972, a year after its initial release. But that small splash had big ripples down through the years. John Prine not only set the tone for his half-century career, it influenced several generations of American singer-songwriters working in the rock, country and folk traditions.

1971 was a year of disaffection and ennui. The Beatles had broken up, the hippie dream was over, four kids were shot in Ohio by National Guardsmen and you had Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young singing a protest song that was powerful at the time but who wants to listen now? Prine’s eyeglass was focused on all of the same things but his was an ironic, detached P.O.V. that remains vital and relevant.

The record is of that time but it is somehow of this time too, though Prine’s delivery and from where in his throat he’s singing obviously owes something to Dylan.

All through the 1970s Cathy and I would attend annually at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre with a packed audience gathered to appreciate John Prine.


John Prine on stage and singing with Iris DeMent (who we will write about another day)

Some artists are one hit wonders and one album wonders. Not Prine. He kept doing it and gathering up new fans right until the end, even when sickness made a physical mess of him.

John Prine died on April 20, 2020 of severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-Cov-2), the pandemic coronavirus that became known as COVID-19.

Stories of a Life | Oct. 31st | Raymond’s Surgery Day


Saturday, October 31 2025, Raymond is admitted to VGH for a radical prostatectomy

As I’ve written previously, on Friday, October 31 2025, I was admitted to the Vancouver General Hospital for a radical prostatectomy, in response to my Stage 4 prostate cancer. My prostate would be removed over the course of a 3½ hour surgery.

My friend Susan Walsh drove me to the hospital, leaving at 8:45am, arriving at VGH at 9am, where she dropped me off.

I climbed the stairs on the west side of the Jim Pattison Pavilion, just off Laurel Street, and upon entering the building walked down the long corridor towards the Admitting desk, where a woman behind a glass enclosure told me that my arrival was expected. Next, I was directed to an elevator leading to the third floor,  and ushered into a carrel, with curtains on three sides, and given a blue gown to wear, a new, softer gown construction less given to exposing a patient’s body. I then climbed into what I found to be a quite comfy bed, the back of the bed tilted up.

No sooner was I comfy in my bed than a young woman in her 30s approached the carrel, my bed and me, introducing herself as Jen, the lead nurse on my upcoming prostate cancer surgery, that was planned to start 75 minutes hence.

Staring directly at me, Jen said …

“Cholangeo, huh?” ‘Yep’, I replied. “You know, Raymond, every other patient I’ve worked with who had been diagnosed with cholangeo died, yet here you are, looking pretty darn fit, and in good shape and quite ready for your upcoming cancer surgery. Why is it that you are here, lying in your comfortable bed, full of vim and vigour, when all of the other cholangeo patients who suffered from your cholangeo diagnosis are long gone, expiring within weeks or months. Gone. Dead.”

“A miracle,” I said. After which I explained what had occurred in the year of my discontent in being diagnosed and treated for my Hilar cholangeocarinoma.

“Well, I’m glad you’re still with us,” Jen said. “I’ll see you in the operating room in about an hour. I’ll be the one keeping an eye on the doctors to make sure that all goes well. You can count on me.”


An Explanatory Digression

Hilar cholangeocarinoma. A bit of background. On October 7th, 2016 I was diagnosed with Hilar cholangiocarcinoma by Dr. Fergal Donnellan.

Weekly for the next six months I attended at VGH where Dr. Donnellan installed a stent in my bile duct. By Christmas, I was in palliative care at St. John’s Hospice at the University of British Columbia. Apparently, I was a goner, the tests definitive.

Problem was, I felt pretty great (October 2016 was the worst month of pain I had ever experienced), in January 2017 attending the Women’s March — with Gwen Giesbrecht, currently running with COPE for a position on the Vancouver School Board, and longtime DTES community activist Wendy Pedersen, and her then 11-year-old daughter — to protest the election of Donald Trump as U.S. President.

Long story short, my family physician, Dr. Brad Fritz, assigned me to meet with VGH urology specialist and surgeon Dr. Andrzej  Buczkowski to review my case.

In early January 2017, Dr. Buczkowski showed me the results of several MRIs, CT scans and PET scans, which showed from the neck down,  the lymph nodes in my body were a flaming red, the bile duct cancer having spread throughout my body. Dr. Buczkowski expressed surprise that I looked healthy, and fit, when given the surfeit of tests I had been subjected to for months indicated I should be dead.

Over the course of the next two months, I was tested and re-tested, ending up on an operating table at Vancouver General Hospital at 6am on Friday morning, March 7 2017, where from 6am to 3pm, Dr. Donnellan rooted around in my body looking for the cancer spread — the results of the tests conducted by Dr. Buczkowski indicated that my bile duct cancer had disappeared. At 3pm, I was wheeled to a ward, still fast asleep, and still under the effects of the anaesthetic I had been given.

At 4:30pm, standing at the foot of my bed, Dr. Donnellan voiced what he told me later were the three most difficult words he had ever expressed: “It’s a miracle!” My cancer was gone, there was absolutely no trace of my cancer anywhere, not in my liver, pancreas, gall bladder, lungs, or bile duct. And so it has remained until, and I expect beyond, this day.

My friend Margery Duda, a longtime community pools advocate (whom Kareem Allam must meet), picked me up from the hospital to ferry me home.

I’ll write about the entire journey of my Hilar cholangeocarinoma in days to come.


Jen and I spoke for about 10 minutes, after which she departed, where upon three of her nurse colleagues who would be attending at my surgery approached my carrel to introduce themselves. Next up, my surgeon, a cheerful Dr. Miles Mannas and three of his urologist colleagues dropped by my carrel, as well as two oncologists who had been supervising my case, three anesthesiologists and the two doctors who would be conducting my upcoming, precise, robotic surgery.

At 10:25am I was wheeled into the operating room for my radical prostatectomy that, unlike the “photo” above (created with Gemini AI), appeared to be the size of a football field. I was approached by the lead anesthesiologist, with whom I had met previously, in preparation for my prostate cancer surgery. “I am going to apply the anesthetic now,” he said. And I was out like a light.

The surgery lasted until late afternoon, after which I was wheeled to a recovery ward, where I was attended to for the next 12 hours by an absolutely tremendous nurse — with a wry and wicked sense of humour — and very well cared for.

Alasdair and Fergus walking down Waterloo Street towards Almond Park

At 10am on Saturday morning, my friend Alasdair and his son Fergus (about whom I wrote on Tuesday) arrived to pick me up and take me home, where I remained bed-ridden for the next three months, continuing the worst part of my recovery through early June, cared for by Nick Ellan, Alasdair, his bride Meaghan (and their two children, Fergus and Elliott), my neighbours Heather, Judi, Kevin and Laurie — and all other members of my housing co-op, for that matter, about which circumstance, I will write several times over the coming weeks and months — my good friend Kelly Ryan, and the dog we share, Teague the schnauzer wonder dog.

Teague the schnauzer wonder dog, my constant and much loved companion

At the 2026 Cannes Film Festival, A New Cultural World Order Emerged

The Boulevard De La Croisette at the Palais des Festivals, during the 79th annual Cannes Film Festival  

The Cannes Film Festival has never been the Oscars.

For most of its history, Cannes existed in a parallel cinematic universe: a place where auteurs were celebrated, formal experimentation rewarded, and films destined for repertory cinemas received standing ovations from critics long before mainstream audiences had even heard of them. Winning the Palme d’Or once meant prestige rather than popularity.

Yet the gap between Cannes and Hollywood continues to narrow.

The 79th Cannes Film Festival was, at first glance, a quieter edition than many in recent years. There were fewer major studio titles, fewer headline-grabbing celebrities, and a competition lineup that lacked the immediate excitement of some previous festivals. But beneath that apparent calm, Cannes once again demonstrated its ability to identify the artistic, cultural, and commercial currents that will shape cinema over the coming year.

Three themes emerged from the Croisette in 2026: the continued rise of LGBTQ+ storytelling, the growing strength of Japanese cinema, and the enduring vitality of Spanish-language filmmaking.

Queer cinema was unquestionably the dominant force at this year’s festival.

The most discussed films in competition centered on LGBTQ+ characters and experiences, reflecting an industry increasingly willing to place queer stories at the centre rather than the margins of contemporary filmmaking.

Among the standouts was Ira Sachs’ The Man I Love, starring Rami Malek as a gay performance artist navigating New York’s AIDS crisis during the 1980s. The film earned one of the festival’s most enthusiastic receptions and immediately positioned Malek as a potential awards-season contender. Rather than revisiting familiar tragedy, Sachs crafts an intimate story on love, creativity, desire, and mortality.

Belgian filmmaker Lukas Dhont continued his remarkable ascent with Coward, a World War I drama exploring forbidden love amid the horrors of trench warfare. Following the success of Girl and Close, Dhont delivered another emotionally devastating examination of identity and human connection.

Perhaps no film generated more passion than La Bola Negra from Spanish directing duo Javier Calvo and Javier Ambrossi. Spanning generations of queer men from the Spanish Civil War to the present day, the film received the festival’s longest standing ovation, emerging as one of the festival’s most acclaimed titles.

The prominence of these films suggests something larger than a passing trend. Queer stories are no longer being treated as niche programming. They have become central to contemporary cinema’s understanding of history, memory, identity, and social change.

Equally notable was the extraordinary presence of Japanese cinema.

Few national film industries are currently operating with the artistic confidence and commercial momentum found in Japan. The country’s box office revenues reached record levels in 2025, while production volume climbed to historic highs. That energy was clearly visible at Cannes.

Palme d’Or winner Hirokazu Kore-eda returned to competition with Sheep in the Box, another nuanced exploration of family relationships.

Ryûsuke Hamaguchi, whose Drive My Car became a global phenomenon, presented All of a Sudden, a thoughtful examination of friendship and emotional intimacy.

Meanwhile, Koji Fukada competed with Nagi Notes, continuing his reputation as one of Japan’s most perceptive contemporary directors.

Although stylistically distinct, all three films explored themes of family, loneliness, companionship, and human connection. Their collective presence underscored Japan’s position as one of the most important creative centres in world cinema.

Three Films in Competition, a Thriving Box Office and the Envy of Europe: Spain Is Having Its Moment

Spanish cinema also enjoyed an exceptionally strong year.

From Almodóvar to a new generation of auteurs, Spain arrived at Cannes 2026 in historic fashion — and the industry behind it has never been in better shape: “Spanish cinema is in a very exceptional situation right now.”

Beyond the acclaim received by La Bola Negra, Spanish-language filmmaking demonstrated a remarkable ability to combine artistic ambition with emotional accessibility. The result was a slate of films that connected with critics while remaining accessible to broader audiences.

Director Rodrigo Sorogoyen’s new film, The Beloved (El Ser Querido), joined Pedro Almodóvar’s Bitter Christmas (Amarga Navidad) and Javier Calvo and Javier Ambrossi’s La Bola Negra in an unprecedented three-film representation of Spain in this year’s Official Competition at Cannes.

That balance increasingly defines the modern Cannes success story.

The Cannes Film Festival is no longer merely a launching pad for challenging art-house films. It has become a marketplace where prestige, commercial potential, and awards-season momentum intersect.

Several titles emerged from Cannes as serious Oscar contenders.

One of the festival’s biggest acquisitions came when independent distributor A24 purchased Club Kid for a reported $17 million. Directed by and starring Jordan Firstman, the film follows a gay nightclub promoter who unexpectedly discovers he has a son. What might have sounded like a modest independent comedy became one of the festival’s biggest crowd-pleasers, demonstrating once again that audiences remain hungry for character-driven storytelling.


Scenes from James Gray’s Paper Tiger, starring Scarlett Johansson, Adam Driver and Miles Teller

Scarlett Johansson generated strong reviews for James Gray’s Paper Tiger, while Léa Seydoux enjoyed a particularly successful festival with appearances in both The Unknown and Gentle Monster. Each performance strengthened their standing as potential awards-season players.

Elsewhere, veteran auteurs returned with films that may finally bridge the gap between Cannes prestige and Academy recognition.


Winner of the Palme d’Or at Cannes last month. Certain to feature in the upcoming Oscar race.

Romanian director Cristian Mungiu captured the Palme d’Or with Fjord, a provocative examination of religious intolerance featuring acclaimed performances from Sebastian Stan and Renate Reinsve.

Russian filmmaker Andrey Zvyagintsev earned the Grand Prix for Minotaur, while Polish director Paweł Pawlikowski returned with Fatherland, a postwar road movie featuring another standout performance from Sandra Hüller.

Together, these films reinforced Cannes’ unique role in the cinematic ecosystem. The festival remains a place where future Oscar nominees are discovered, where international auteurs launch their next projects, and where global film culture takes stock of itself.

As the lights dimmed along the Croisette and the crowds drifted away from the Palais, what lingered was not the memory of celebrity sightings or red-carpet spectacle. It was the sense of cinema looking outward once again — toward different cultures, different identities, different ways of seeing the world.

The strongest films at Cannes this year were united not by style or genre, but by curiosity. They crossed borders of language, history, sexuality, and geography in search of common human experience.

And perhaps that is the enduring lesson of Cannes.

Every May, the festival gathers stories from every corner of the world and projects them onto a single screen facing the Mediterranean Sea.

For a brief moment, cinema becomes a conversation between strangers. Japanese families, Spanish lovers, queer artists, wartime dreamers, and lonely souls all share the same flickering light. The waves continue to lap against the shoreline, the projectors fall silent, and the stars eventually depart.

But the stories remain, carried home across oceans and continents, waiting for audiences everywhere to discover them.