Every year, around this time, I am overcome. Restless with spring fever, boredom, a sense of passing time and mortality – whatever it is, it’s unique to Saskatchewan. At least in February.
I come from Winnipeg, where the weather either torments or satisfies you. There is no February tease, tempting heart and soul with melting snow and boisterous song birds. The melt may not come until June, but at least then you know you’re not being played.
Yesterday, the morning was cold and I craved only the comfort of my giant, plush hedgehog slippers resting near the furnace. By dinner, I was ready for a journey to anywhere, so long as the grass was green the sun was warm with some promise of adventure.
Granted, the only adventure I have time for these days are those resting purely in fantasy, but when the winds howl around me lately, they are screaming of urgent change.
One of our freelancers, Dorian Geiger, is a terrific young man, with local roots and while I’ve never actually met him (we correspond online and through email) I have a tremendous respect for him. Not just because he’s a talented writer, a promising young journalist, currently editor of the University of Saskatoon’s newspaper, but because he’s so full of life.
As I write this, I am patiently waiting for him to file a story from the Olympics. He is of an easy age, unfettered by familial responsibility and he is taking full advantage of it. So many don’t.
I started my family when I was relatively young, in my early 20s, but I’d already done a lot of living. When I was embarking on my first media career and buying a home, most of my peers were committed only to the beer parlour. But having snuck into more than a few when I was much younger, I wanted something more, something new.
And the older I get (and getting older only gets faster) the more I realize I will always want more and it – whatever “it” is – will never be enough. Which is just right – I’d rather die of exhaustion than boredom.
Recently, Dorian invited me to speak at a Canadian University Press event his university is hosting. Which was flattering, but also terrifying – I’m not real comfortable with public speaking. In fact, if pressured, I may be forced to admit my discomfort has swelled over the years into a small fear. Unless of course, I’ve had a couplefew of drinks and then, I find it difficult to shut up.
Dorian thought it would be valuable to share with these journalism students what running a rural newspaper is like. And this is a topic dear to my heart as it is my fervent belief that small, independently-owned newspapers have more freedom to pursue the stories that really, really matter.
So, I responded the only way I knew how – I sought comfort in numbers.
Kate Winquist, the young, ambitious entrepreneur and mother, she recently purchased the Gull Lake Advance. Despite a surface reality of being competitors, we have forged a bond and a mutually beneficial working relationship. In my estimation, she has helped me more than I her, and I despie any kind of sweat invesement inequity. So, what better way to repay someone than to drag them to a public speaking engagement?
As so many others do, I frequently rely on Facebook and Twitter to communicate with people when the formality of traditional email seems too heavy a burden. Kate has met me only once, the majority of our exchanges have been purely electronic.
But now, we have a plan. Dorian offered us a bottle of wine as a gift for giving the lecture. Instead, I have asked him for gift certificates for a tattoo/body piercing parlour.
I proposed the entire plan to Kate’s Facebook page. Initially, she said there was no way in hell she’s be making any additional holes in her body. But then, she admitted she’s always had a secret hankering for a tattoo. And I always have the urge for another one.
Kate, like me, is also not keen on public speaking, but we both agree a couple of stiff drinks will take the edge off.
I suggested we spent the night in the city, to avoid fatigued driving which all reporters know are a very real hazard. Safety-minded, she has agreed. I’m hoping the trip will temporarily cure me of this restlessness – of all commodities, I value sleep and focus the most.
Nonetheless, for better or for worse, Kate is game and rarin’ to go and soon, two newspaper publishers will be on the runaway in Saskatoon, for the first time in months, with a gift certificate for tattoos and a thirst for adventure.
Her husband is going to kill me.