There comes a reckoning. Read this article for free: Already have an account? To continue reading, please subscribe: * There comes a reckoning. Read unlimited articles for free today: Already have an account? Opinion There comes a reckoning.
The power went out at work, and I went home to write this as a thunderstorm came cracking down over Winnipeg, the rain overcoming the gutters in sheets, the cat looking out the porch door at the downpour and then back at me as if I were to blame. I had intended to write about Free Day, or, more accurately, the day after Free Day, when all that is left in front yards and on boulevards are the things absolutely no one wanted to take. Free Day leftovers at 6:20 am on Sept.
16, the morning after. Free Press/Russell Wangersky What’s it like to be an iron, soaked in early Monday rain and almost certainly ruined? Or a paperback Jack Higgins novel, soaked through and splayed to show pages 120 and 121 to the sky? A sweater, rejected by all, splayed out, arms akimbo, as the horizon lights up to the east with purple cloud? I’m a slow starter, so I didn’t get that column written. At least, I didn’t get it written in time.
Instead, I did the other part of my job, keeping up on news and on social media, dipping my nets to see if I could drag up new topics for editorials. I wish I hadn’t. Some of my family are still in Newfoundland, and I follow the news there almost like muscle memory: I know the players, and the play.
And one of the things I.