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.

Of all the uncles who had influence on my life one stands out. Uncle Robert wasn’t a very tall man, maybe five-foot-seven, but he was built like a rock. He had arms so big they were bigger than my legs. Basically, he was all muscle. As an out-of-control teenager there were times I found myself being held by the police. I didn’t go around stealing or breaking into places. My biggest problems were always alcohol or drug related. I would phone Robert and he would always come and rescue me. He would come by and tell the police I could stay with him and his wife, Irene. I had a great time staying with them because he taught me many things.

He was one of the supervisors in a huge sawmill in northwestern Alberta. He was also a backyard mechanic. On weekends he would be working on vehicles and I was his assistant. He sometimes called me his trainee, but I was basically his flunky. He would make me run for this tool or that tool, but I didn’t care because I was learning lessons I carried throughout my life. Today, I don’t know how to repair a vehicle but I know every tool in the tool box. Even though I enjoyed my stay with my aunt and uncle, there was always that jackrabbit in me and I would quietly sneak out and go party with my friends. Sometimes I would just keep partying and I would be gone for days at a time. Robert would get worried about me and he always seemed to know where to find me. Eventually I got old enough to legally go on my own, but that didn’t pan out very well. I went back to my uncle’s and asked him if he would hire me to work at the sawmill. The next day I started working.

Most of the jobs at that time had the same operators and workers. Sawmills are dangerous places to work; even the smallest piece of equipment can injure or kill a person. This is why they try to keep the same operators because they know the equipment. Robert started me off with a “softer” job and jobs that kept me away from the dangerous equipment. After awhile I got moved around until I got to know the entire sawmill.

I also got to meet a lot of cool people. Many of the workers were from the East Coast. If there’s one thing Newfies and I have in common it’s partying. One of the coolest people I met at the sawmill was a silversmith. His job was to ensure all the blades in the mill were sharp and perfectly straight. Some of these blades were four feet high. He always had to be careful because protesters would go around in the forest and hammer four-inch spikes into the trees. When that tree hit the mill and went through one of the huge saws, the teeth of the blade would go flying all over the place. The silversmith would take those old blades and make knives and swords out of them. He showed me some of the things he made, and they were all incredible. He even made a Samurai sword like a master Japanese craftsman.

Even though I enjoyed my job and the people I worked with I moved on. After many years at the sawmill my uncle retired, if you could call it that. He took a weekend job as one of the last milk delivery people in Northern Alberta. He had one of those cube vans and a white uniform and the whole shebang. He liked his job because he always had the same customers and they would often step out of their houses to talk to him. I went with him a couple of times and it was cool because sometimes we would go out of town and crank out the music in the cube milk van. My uncle passed away a few years back, shortly after his wife passed away. It was one of the saddest days of my life, but his influence lives on. I can still hear his advice and encouragement to never give up.

-Ken Noskye