You cannot love Saskatchewan too much Dear Diary.
Of course, Saskatchewan says right back to you, “Ya, I know, I love you too. Now get back to work.”
That’s kinda what we do, isn’t it?
That’s why it is so disheartening to see the ongoing residual effects of the two-year malaise in the oilpatch and the severe reduction on potash production.
But you know, in this poplar tree ridden haven of ours, it’s still sorta nice.
Too often acquaintances, in our general small talk exchanges will ask me, “where are you going to retire?”
My response is generally.
“What about right here?”
A good percentage of the people I like, are already here, that’s pretty compelling.
I don’t have to go south and worry about health insurance, guns and a bunch of maybe stuff.
It’s green here for half a year, when it’s not brown and white and yes, it can get dirty and owly here, but so can housing costs in B.C.
And yes, I loved Ontario and the Caribbean and surprisingly, made some lasting friendships there, but I knew when it was time to “come home” several years ago.
You can spend a million bucks and buy a few sections of land and build a palatial estate in Saskatchewan, or you can spend a million bucks and buy a 600-square foot, one-bedroom condo on the sixth floor somewhere in Langley, B.C.
I like my version of Saskatchewan now, just as much as I enjoyed my childhood version of Saskatchewan and it’s not Saskatchewan’s fault I temporarily moved away.
Even my sister, who vowed never to return to the homeland, burst into tears when she returned 18 years later and drove past a golden wheat field, ready for harvest near the Qu’Appelle Valley.
“I never thought I’d miss this damn place,” she muttered through the tears as we stood outside the car, marinating in the view. She had reconnected. I kinda smiled through my own cloudy eyes, hugged my sis, but never said “I told ya so.” That would have been cruel. So thanks to some unknown farmer in central Saskatchewan and a God-given setting sun, my sister and I shared a golden moment.
If you are from Saskatchewan, you definitely know when you’re away. And you can enjoy the break. But if you’re really from Saskatchewan, you always come back, it is required. It hasn’t been put into legislated law yet, but I’m sure Brad will figure a way to do that.
Yep, you can take that teacup ride at Disneyland as many times as you wish, or you can make the combine repair in Hafford.
You can shop at Neiman Marcus or the Co-op. I’m more comfortable in the latter.
As the bride once noted, “people don’t dress up here very often, but they do get things done.”
I couldn’t disagree as I surveyed my worn out Dockers and polo shirt with the ink stain.
We don’t get to chase and photograph elephants and giraffes from the back seat of a Range Rover during a so-called African safari we paid $8,000 to have for three days.
But we can enjoy the antics of a newly born calf or colt and catch the attention of a magnificent buck, or a gangly moose, and watch the geese fly over daily.
Of course, you might want to check back with me around Jan. 16 after I’ve just finished digging out my sidewalk only to discover the car won’t start. My love affair with Saskatchewan may have turned sour just a little bit at that point. But it will return, just like any other decent love affair. Ya gotta have yer ups and downs, elstwise, what’s the use and what are we here for?
