The Last Word

Joe says...

With this being the fall issue of Winnipeg Men Magazine, I thought I would look back at the summer, if we can call it that. Maybe I should look back deeper into Manitoban history before I break down the last few months. This province has lived through the Winnipeg General Strike, major winter storms and devastating floods, and now after all the precipitation and below normal temperatures, we can say: “We survived the summer of 2009!” As one 92 CITI FM listener suggested, why not put that slogan on the front of a T-shirt—the back could read: “August 10th and 11th.”

A rough guess would be that we have actually had about 10 days of exceptional weather this year?!  Never mind marketing a t-shirt, maybe a local film director could put together a documentary entitled I Know What You Did Last Summer. I know that movie title has already been used, but why don’t we add a “…nothing!” at the end of the title to stop any lawsuits for copyright. Either way, the theme is the same as the original film—a horror flick.
 
No matter where you turn, everyone has been consumed with the lack of nice weather this summer. We pride ourselves on being from the prairies where the sky is always blue and the sun is shining. It would be great to have the glass half full attitude, but the glass has been overflowing just like our rain gauge. Yup, rain! We can’t control it and we can’t stop it! It will disrupt your plans, maybe even postpone them or cancel them completely. The cloud cover has been so extreme this year that I’ve been going to Walmart, not just to shop, but to loiter and gaze at the big-round-yellow-happy-face thing and pretending that was the sun.
 
You know it’s been a weird time when your favourite summertime tunes have you yelling at your iPod. It happened to me with two of my favorite CCR classics:

John Fogerty: “Have you ever seeeeen the rain?”

Me: “You have to be kidding me?! Yes, pretty much every day!”

(click)

JF: “Whooooo’ll stop the rain?”

Me: “That’s a good friggin’ question! I’ll tell you what I’m gonna stop. This #@&# iPod!” (smash!!)

Oh, sorry, I digress—what did I do this summer? I went out and bought a new iPod. Apparently, the bad weather doesn’t affect the mall hours. Have a great fall!


Tom says...
I was mulling over all sorts of topics for this article—and then I went to a funeral. This magazine is named Winnipeg Men Magazine, because it’s for and about interesting, successful, thoughtful and inspiring men.

At this funeral I learned about such a young man, and wanted to tell you about him. He may have ended up on the pages of this magazine at some point in his life, but we’ll never know. I can tell you that I will never forget him, even though I never met him.

I didn’t know the family. You see, their son, drowned tragically in the pool at my sons’ house.

Upon hearing this, anyone goes through a million emotions, but for any parent, the first is: “It could have so easily been one of mine.” That’s natural. But then, your heart immediately aches for his family.

I soon met this incredible family who could have been filled with anger, only to find that somehow through their grief, they found the strength to console me, the boys and their mom.

The service was attended by hundreds of people in Selkirk.
 
Devon William Sinclair, son of Karen and Bill, brother of Brooke, and uncle and godfather to Odin, had lived all of his 25 years in East Selkirk. He had plans to become a police officer, one of the more courageous professions there is, in my book.

At the funeral I heard tales from a couple of brave young men who pulled it together to get up in front of us at the funeral and explain what an incredible guy their best friend was, how he lived life to the fullest.

It was moving, sad, and humorous, but what was not lost on me, is how indelibly this young man had touched everyone he had come in contact with in his short life, in such a positive way. You never, ever want to be at one of your children’s funerals, but the love felt in that church was palpable, the strength of that family inspiring, and the memory of a beautiful young man, I never had the pleasure to meet, forever frozen in my mind.

At times like this, it is a cliché, but we do look inward and appreciate things more. We appreciate what we have, what we have to look forward to, and most importantly, our family and friends.

I want to thank the Sinclair family for going out of their way to help alleviate the guilt we felt, even during their own time of grief, and for allowing us to come and get at least a glimpse into the life of their son Devon, who was clearly destined for great things.

And thanks to the young men and women who were his lifelong friends, who left us with memories of a guy we’ll never forget.

There is no doubt, he would have made a tremendous police officer, and been a credit to the service.

And even though I wasn’t lucky enough to meet him, I know that I would have been proud to have him as “one of mine.”

Since he won’t have the chance now, I wanted to make sure you heard about Devon Sinclair on the pages of this magazine.