I just enjoyed one of the best weekends I have had in years
and there were many great things about my time in Meota, Sask. — 30 km north of
North Battleford: the spectacular weather, sitting in the cabin’s deck right above
the beach of Jackfish Lake, and then going for a two-hour cruise along the
parameter of the lake; watching motorboats and waterskiers weaving back and
forth; only looking at the clock once a day when I got up; looking at my
computer bag for three days and not opening it once because, I assured myself, work
could wait; and looking through an opening in the spruce trees, just to the
left of the deck, for a spectacular Saskatchewan sunset.
Sharing the weekend with people added to its magic. My
brother Brad and his son—my nephew, McLean Cameron—and cousin Terry and his
wife Carolyn, a couple we have hung around since we were all in high school and
their three kids: Dylan, Kayla and Meagan. My good friend Bob, who heard the
stories about Meota, got a chance to experience it himself.
Just south of the cabin and a little east is the cemetery
where our parents and grandparents along with many other relatives and friends
are buried. I thought of them—my heritage—as the waves slowly rolled onto the
beach and the sunlight gently danced on the water. It was one of the most
soothing feelings I have had in a while. I was exactly where I wanted to be on
the weekend. I am, indeed, a lucky man.
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