There are times when words are not easily found to say things that one wants to share. While this often happens when trying to discuss feelings at times of death, the problem is compounded when death is both tragic and involves many people, most of them young like my grandkids. I am not sure I have anything to say that will bring comfort, solace and help to the people of Humboldt Saskatchewan. But I still want to say something.

When I was in high school in a small town in Eastern Ontario on the edge of the Canadian Shield, I played a lot of team sports and we had to travel. We traveled over some rather narrow and twisty highways — paved yes, but not much more. And the buses we rode in were nothing like the ones now used for Junior Hockey and college sports. Ours spewed blue smoke, shimmied and shook, and took forever to get to the destination and then back home again. But it was our bus, our home on the road and we all felt more like a family once we got inside that old crate. And we never doubted our driver — usually a he, the driver was like a parent. We always knew we were safe — so safe that we often ignored the road altogether and talked, argued/debated, played games or slept… Then in College I got into broadcasting and there were times that I would drive all night to get to a game in another province. Again, never thought about it much — it was the game, the task, the moment that was the focus. I’ve also spent considerable time as an adult in small towns in Canada, and as part of that life I have been in prairie and Maritime hockey arenas, curling rinks and high school & even college gyms… I’ve been on the road and seen the school or charter buses late at night returning from games… it is part of who we are, especially those outside the big metropolitan areas, whether in the Maritimes or on the prairies, in vast parts of Ontario & Quebec plus BC as well as the north… we travel if we want to play.

But I still really don’t know how to express my feeling at this moment. However, I am lucky, not just to have survived all the road trips and all the flights in small aircraft, but to have a good friend who does know how to write. This individual may be one of the smartest young leaders in our country — a public servant who really understands and practices Jim Owen’s book “Cowboy Ethics”, who ethically reasons at a very high level, who can put together paragraphs better than 99% of us. She wrote to me about this tragedy and has given me permission to share it with you now.

“Being from a small prairie town, I am a bit biased, but I have always believed that the heart and soul of Canada can be found in its small towns. The sense of community, of belonging, of family.
How the entire country has rallied around Humboldt shows me that we are one big small town. It is impossible to not be affected by this, whether from a big city or a small town, whether a hockey fan or a book worm.
My heart breaks for these families. But I take an enormous amount of solace in knowing that Canada is its best in times of tragedy. Our hearts overflow with love and support, and it makes me infinitely proud.”

I am now taking my four hockey sticks upstairs and onto the front porch on either side of the front door — one for each of my grandsons who play hockey still. There’s even a goal stick, as two of them are netminders and it serves also as a reminder to me — my last organized game was in goal for Knox College — it was a loss, an insignificant loss compared to that with Humboldt has suffered. We now know what significant loss can be like. Lift up prayers as well as expressions of hope for all connected to the Humboldt tragedy — be part of that small town in whatever way you can…

g.w.