When Ken died in February, we had an outpouring of messages from readers, with many telling us how much his columns meant to them. In light of that, we thought we would go back through our files and re-publish some of his columns. Ken would be flattered by the kind words readers expressed. We miss him as a friend and as a storyteller.

Let me explain.

When I was going to college in Edmonton I had absolutely nothing in my bachelor apartment. No table and chairs, no television, not even a radio. All I had was a couple of blankets and a pillow with no bed.

I slept on the floor, which was all right because those were the days when shag carpeting was in style. It made for a good mattress.

I was lucky to have a little bit of food in my cupboards. Back then, there were no food banks, which I wouldn’t be able to go anyway because I was in class all day.

I also had a part-time job as a maintenance man for one of the more affluent hotels in the downtown area. Every now and then I would get lucky and find leftover food people would leave on trays outside their rooms.

There were several other postsecondary students from my home reserve in the city at the time. We would phone each other to find out what we had for food and get together to combine the items into a meal. If one had Kraft Dinner and one had wieners, we were styling.

I had an aunt who lived in the city and on Sundays I would join her for supper. She knew how hard I was working on my education, so she would prepare a survival package for me.

Mostly it was dry goods, but she would include an envelope with a few dollars inside. I didn’t think I was poor because other students were surviving the same way.

One day on my way home, I was walking down a back alley and I saw a framed picture leaning by one of the garbage cans. I picked it up and it turned out to be a portrait of Marilyn Monroe.

I picked it up and took it home. After cleaning it up, I hung it close to my door. Every day when I went to class, I would give Marilyn a kiss on the cheek and head out to take on the day’s challenges.

Later, when I got home, I would announce “Honey, I’m home!” and Marilyn would be there with her beautiful smile just waiting for me.

After a while, I accumulated a few other things, so I had a half-decent little place. But it was the poster that stayed constant. As I moved on in life, somewhere down the line I lost the poster. That was fine because I was getting married by then, and I don’t think my wife would have appreciated having Marilyn Monroe in the house.

Today, I am a bachelor again and living in a small home which sits close to a beautiful lake. I have everything I need, plus a Marilyn Monroe poster on one of my walls.

After going for my daily walks, I get home and announce to Marilyn, “Honey, I’m home.” But I am not crazy . . . yet.

-Ken Noskye