Last week, in part one of this farewell to Saskatchewan column, I said my impending move to Labrador promises to be a rare and wonderful adventure, but is not without mixed feelings and trepidation.
Inevitably, beginnings are also endings. And even endings of unsatisfying situations can be unsettling and tinged with sadness.
But that is not the case here. I love my job; I like Yorkton; Saskatchewan still feels like home.
And perhaps that is precisely why it is time to move on. I, I have become—as the Pink Floyd tune goes—comfortably numb.
Okay, not really numb, that implies a detachment I’m not really feeling, but I couldn’t resist one last pop culture reference.
Comfortable, though, is accurate and perhaps that is precisely why it is time to move on. As Ted Mosby says: “If you’re not scared, you’re not taking a chance. If you’re not taking a chance then what the hell are you doing anyway?”
Ok, I promise, that is the last pop-culture reference.
In 1997, 20 years ago almost to the week, I packed up my 1995 Ford Escort station wagon with my two kids (then 10 and 12 years old) and everything I still owned and headed south from Ottawa into the great unknown.
I knew where I was headed, but had no idea where I was going. Long story short, we kicked around the southern and western United States for the summer, mostly camping, until the boys had to go back to start the new school year.
I put them on a plane in Dallas and made my way to Austin. My plan was to spend a couple days there then San Antonio, Houston and New Orleans before heading west again to California.
A month later, I was still in Austin, so I decided to get a job. At that time I was a professional geek and I got hired by the police department to, in collaboration with my boss (an ex-cop turned techie), design and build the department’s new municipal area network.
It was a great job and it gave me my own house, a hot car and an equally hot young girlfriend. But after five years, I realized those things were a stand-in for something I had never been able to find in the handful of careers I had tried my hand at, personal fulfillment.
No matter what I was doing to make a living, I always felt like I was a writer waiting to happen. In fact, when people used to ask me ‘what do you do?’ I used to respond with something like, ‘do you mean what am I, or what do I do to make money?’
Of course, when you’re pouring your energy and creativity into something else eight hours a day, it’s pretty hard to find the motivation, much less the time, to do the thing you think it is you should be doing.
Furthermore, you’re disconnected from the profession you aspire to. It’s a bit of a catch-22.
I decided it was crazy. If I wanted to be a writer, I should be working as a writer. Lots of people made a living writing; why not me?
I had always eschewed journalism—naively thinking myself more of a creative writer—but figured that would be my foot in the door.
Once again I packed up everything I owned—this time in a 17-foot U-Haul—and headed back to Canada.
As it turns out, I was born to be a journalist. It took a lot of work to get my foot in the door, especially without J-school and I paid some hard dues along the way, but I’ve been doing it for 15 years now and I still love it even though the money is terrible.
However, the answer to both the ‘what am I’ and ‘what to I do to make money’ questions is finally the same. I am a writer.
That is not how I answer them anymore, though. I usually say “I type.”
And I still love Saskatchewan, even though there’s a lot of crazy right-wing politics here. Yes, I know, there is crazy right-wing politics everywhere. The difference is, it is successful here.
Nevertheless, it is time once again to head off into the great unknown. This time it is more of a known unknown than the unknown unknown I headed into 20 years ago, or even in 2005 when I loaded one kid (then 18) and everything I still owned into my 1999 Taurus and left Ottawa for Smithers, BC and my first newspaper job.
It is exciting, but I can tell you, it does not get easier with age. And this cross-country journey may be the most challenging yet. It is nearly 5,000 kilometres, at least two days of which are on the Labrador Highway, in a small SUV with a giant dog.
“To survive this epic road trip into unparalleled wilderness, one must be as capable of dealing with mechanical faults as with persistent bloodsucking insects, bone-soaking rain, and moose hell-bent on auto-suicide. For much of the 1185 kilometres, you can feel like the last great driver on Earth.”
And that is from the tourist brochure.
With that, I must bid Yorkton adieu, but not goodbye, at least not to the people. Yorkton has been very good to and for Lorraine and I so I want to invite everyone to come on this journey with us.
I will be blogging the trip on my dog’s Facebook page (yes, Lady MacBeth has her own Facebook page). Like and follow www.facebook.com/ladymacbeththenewf for daily videos, photos and write-ups.
So long...for now.
