Columns

The year was 1951. I was 12 years old. The night before, I had eaten a wonderful toasted Spanish onion sandwich with lots of Miracle Whip dressing. Wonderful!

If you want to know what has been going on behind the scenes at the Walkerton Legion over the past few months, pick up a copy of the Walkerton Legion Newsletter. Members will have received a copy by email or by mail, depending on their preference.

I’d say it’s rather appropriate how differently my two tykes came into the world. It only further verifies how very different they are from each other through their early formative years so far.

It all started with a life isn’t going my way fit. Maybe you’ve witnessed one of these fits lately or maybe you’ve had one yourself. No judgment here; life doesn’t seem to be going the way most people would prefer it to these days, and regardless of age, we all have fits now and again.

Menesetung is a Chippewa word meaning “laughing waters”, a very pleasant name that brings to mind a river that could have been the main source of life for most of us in the Midwestern Newspapers reading area. In fact, it once was.

If you look at your life today and then reflect back to 10 years ago, three years ago, even one year ago, one common thread will be that not much is the same. Everyone is older. Not everyone who was once here is still here. There are new jobs, new homes, new loved ones, new wrinkles and maybe even a

As those who live near the Great Lakes, we know how quickly storms can arise, turning the once brilliant sky into a dark, stormy horizon. The Sea of Galilee is the same way, and it made even the most experienced of fisherman fearful for their lives.

Ask 10 adults if they’ve ever heard of the Chernobyl nuclear disaster of 1986 and I’d be confident saying you’d get at least nine that have. I’d even wager on a perfect 10 out of 10 depending on the demographic petitioned.

The warm summer days are fast becoming extinct and it won’t be long now until the snow flies and we are caught in the grip of another winter. The most isolating season for Canadians to endure, complete with long dark nights, polar vortexes, and closed roads.

Envelope No. 24 was opened at Sunday’s Catch the Ace draw, revealing an Ace – a black one – but the crowd gave an audible sigh of relief when it turned out to be the Ace of Clubs.

Being a volunteer keeps me young. This is my story.

As journalists, we have thick skin. It’s necessary in this line of work; it is our job to ask questions, sometimes tough and uncomfortable, in an effort to tell a complete, factual story.