Moose Country Minute – May 12 2018

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Today is my wedding anniversary, which has absolutely to do with the outdoors except that the outdoors is where the doghouse is kept.

Get my drift?

There are things men forget at their peril. Valentine’s Day is one of them, your spouse’s birthday in another, and your wedding anniversary is right near the top.

I had to use a calculator to find out just how long I have been married to Karen, and it’s been 34 years.

That’s right, I got married in the year of Orwell, 1984, which gives a whole new meaning to totalitarian control.

It also means that, as of today, I have been married to the same woman for half my natural life.

Too many pieces are falling into place.

I learned I was going to be a father while I was in the basement of our then Cabbagetown home grabbing up my fishing equipment to visit friends who had a cottage.

Within two years, I was not only the father of a beautiful little girl, I was also a cottage owner—a little Viceroy job on Baptiste Lake near Bancroft.

Those were our marriage’s best years.

My back was still as strong as a horse’s, my knees were not quite shot, and my energy knew no bounds.

We boated, we hiked, we made long treks in our kayaks, and even tried to make love in a canoe—which Pierre Berton said was the most Canadian of achievements.

Bottom line, we got soaked.

Anyhow, no gifts please—just prayers.

Now, where did I put the A5-35?