When Ken died in February 2021, 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 them. Ken would be flattered by the kind words readers expressed. We miss him as a friend and as a storyteller.

Recently, I purchased a whole new computer system. The last time I had my own computer, it weighed about 200 pounds and the back was filled with tubes and bulbs like an old-school television. All I could do with it was write and print.

There was no such thing as the Internet, Facebook or any of the social media. On my reserve, there are many people who go by nicknames. In fact, the first time I heard about Facebook, I thought it was someone’s nickname.

You need to know I come from an age when calculators were just coming out and they were the size of an average hardback book, and so expensive only the rich kids could afford one. I remember the first time I used one of those giant calculators and thinking it was the coolest things in the world.

One of my rich friends loaned me his calculator and I stayed up all night playing with it. I thought at some point it would make a mistake but it never did. By collecting cans and bottles, I was able to save enough to purchase my own calculator for junior high school. I felt like one of those rich kids with my very own calculator.

Before I reached my teenage years, I was involved with the newspaper industry in one way or another. A close friend’s father worked at our small town newspaper. He was not only one of the reporters, he was also the cartoonist.

Almost ever day my buddy and I would head to the weekly paper to watch his dad work. Sometimes he would use us as subjects for his editorial cartoons. He didn’t like us to call them cartoons. He reminded us the work he did was illustrating what was going on in the community.

When I turned 12, I was hired as a paper carrier. My route was all the businesses downtown. We lived in a small town, so I got to know the people who owned the businesses. I liked my route because often the business owners would have treats like home-baked cookies. By saving my newspaper money, I was able to buy my first bicycle.

When I reached junior high, I got involved with the school’s monthly newsletter. Back then, there were no photocopiers; all we had was a machine called a Gestetner. We would create a plate and wrap it around a roller and we would hand roll copies of the newsletter.

We had to take turns because cranking that old machine took a lot of energy and strength. But at the end of every month, we would produce enough copies for not only the junior side of the school, but also the senior high. It was really cool to see the older students reading our newsletter.

Of course our newsletter didn’t have any real news, but we would put together funny stories and cartoons, which I often drew. I once got into trouble because I drew a portrait of the principal, which he didn’t think was funny, but the entire school loved it.

After high school I partied until I eventually ended up in jail. While in prison I created a prisoner’s journal. It was called Drums of Freedom, which I still have copies of today. Sometimes, I pull out the old copies to see what I was writing back then.

The journal became popular with the prisoners because we didn’t hold back. The warden of the prison gave us full editorial rights and man, did we take advantage of that.

We started to get letters from all over the world. One of my favourite letters came from the Maze prison in Northern Ireland. This is the place where members of the Irish Republican Army were housed.

I found it amazing our little journal would make its way into one of the most secure prisons in the world.

After finishing my time, I continued to party while fighting an addiction problem. Eventually, I snapped out of one of the most addictive drugs — cocaine — and headed towards post-secondary education.

I bounced around university classes not knowing what I wanted to major in. After a couple of years of studying law, economics and sciences. I decided journalism was something I believed in with a passion.

Even though I was an extreme drug and alcohol recovery addict, my grades were always way up and I was accepted into a journalism program.

I graduated from the program and went to work as a television news reporter. I worked my way into major markets, but I was assigned into the street beat, which meant covering vehicle accidents on a daily basis.

I got tired of the screams, mangled bodies and the chaos that came with the accidents and moved towards radio. This was fun, but I had to wake up at four in the morning to do the day’s news.

It was then I decided to move into print. Writing was something I was driven to because it gave me a chance to be creative. Once again, I worked my way into a major city.

Back then, the newsrooms were filled with talented people who would smoke and even drink at their desks. These were my kind of people because the newsroom rang with the cacophony of a street carnival.

I used one of those old typewriters, where the keys were about four inches from the base. I still have the first electric typewriter I bought. Once again, I thought it was one of the coolest things in the world because I didn’t have to use whiteout to correct any mistakes. It had an automatic ribbon where I could erase mistakes.

I held onto my old Brother electric typewriter until I was forced into the age of the computer. This is when I purchased that old school computer. Of course, it couldn’t do what today’s computers could do. As time and technology kept on rolling, I eventually couldn’t live without my computer. But I still miss the banging of the typewriter’s keys.

Today, as I look at my new computer, I can’t help but think I’ve moved from smoke signals to satellites.

• Ken Noskye