Last week, my father moved from Winnipeg to Leader. Now, born and raised in Montreal, he also lived in Jasper and Edmonton before settling down in Winnipeg for the last 40 years or so.
I was scheduled to fly to Winnipeg to help him move, but that plan was thrown awry by a sudden and debilitating flu-like illness. Perfect timing.

In anticipation of his arrival, there was an attempt made to light the pilot light on his furnace. Which is when we learned the valve needed replacement. And when that was replaced, we learned he needs a new furnace because the heat exchanger was cracked. I called him, dreading his reaction, but he took it like a real trooper and despite the change in plans and the impending expensive furnace bill, he was still excited about the move.
So, my dad was able to get here with all his stuff, thanks to wonderful friend Ted, who is made even more wonderful by being a Badger subscriber.
Once here, he had to leave the next morning to return to Winnipeg to pick up his two golden retrievers. The dogs endured the 11-hour car ride – the master was the dog-tired one.
Winnipeg may have many amenities, but they lack one thing the entire Southwest has truckloads of – maple bugs. Yes, though full of ticks and mosquitoes, Manitoba is maple bug free, I had never seen one until I moved to Maple Creek. Now, fall just wouldn’t be fall without the colours of black and orange crawling over every exterior wall.
At my dad’s new house, there was just one problem – the inside walls were alive with them. The house had sat empty for some time and the maple bugs, as they doggedly do, found their way in one by one by one. Because he had never seen or heard of them before, he assumed the worst. By bedtime, he was convinced he was in the midst of a cockroach infestation. He had killed at least 40, but exhausted, he crawled into bed and when one dropped from the ceiling onto his face, he just brushed it off and rolled on over.
Which is when the carbon monoxide alarm went off. Safety-minded, he had plugged it in knowing the dangers of a furnace in disrepair. Ever looking on the bright side, Dad said he was tremendously impressed by the Leader Fire Department. So, thank you so much to the two fellows who attended and ensured the air was carbon monoxide-free.
Fast forward to the next day, and we begin as a convoy of two, returning the U-Haul to Medicine Hat. By this point, Dad was so tired of driving, he was ready to borrow a horse from a field and break it bareback all the way to the Hat. He drove the truck, I drove the car and within five minutes of hitting the Trans-Canada Highway, I noticed a disturbing tightening feeling in my chest. By the time we dropped off the truck and paid the late fees, we were searching for a doctor. He hauled me to X-Rays, blood work and finally, the pharmacy before going home – and finding the sewer backed up in his basement.
I’m impressed at just how much he’s managed to pack into his first few days living in Saskatchewan. But mostly, I think I’m surprised he’s still here!
My dad’s name is Steve Monk and after he kills some more bugs, replaces the furnace and cleans the basement, he’ll be joining Badger News Media as our sales and marketing manager. Having owned his own sales agency for decades, this will be a fun, new gig that his experience will do wonders for.
The extra help will be a Godsend – we’ve been run off our feet and being run down with the flu just hasn’t helped matters. My apologies for not getting out to as many events as I should have been last week, but after I took sick, our oldest boy did as well and as sick as I was, I would have signed up to be 100x more sick, if I could have just saved him the grief of it all. By Saturday morning, I hadn’t had the time or energy to write anything, so this week’s paper is a miracle of both modern medicine and human resilience.
Also, you may have noticed the paper was late hitting the streets last week and the week before that. The week before last, some of our papers were sent on the bus to the Maple Creek junction and some were sent to Kindersley.
Last week, the buss was ‘too full’ to fit our papers, so they were sent out on a later run, which involved a six-hour wait at Maple Creek.
This week, the papers were on time because we ditched Greyhound, for good. And guess who drove to pick them up? Welcome home Dad.