鈥淢an, when you write your last column, you should just type out all the lyrics to Wonderwall.鈥�
My friend in radio told me that two months after I moved to Yorkton. Like most people in the radio business, he鈥檚 obsessed with music memes, and there鈥檚 no music meme more ironically lauded and genuinely despised than Wonderwall.
There may be no band that threaded the needle finer between indie music cred and banal sellouts than Oasis. And none of their songs typify that thin line better than Wonderwall. The 90s Britpop band had countless hits in their heyday, but none were more overplayed, ubiquitous, and monstrous than Wonderwall. It wasn鈥檛 a song; it was a force.
Naturally, as all pop culture behemoths do, it became a meme. Images and videos of people playing Wonderwall on acoustic guitars or (heaven help us) ukuleles became shorthand for music hackery and unearned pretension. So you can see why my friend suggested I copy-paste the Wonderwall lyrics for my final column. It鈥檚 a non-joke, something so inherently unfunny it becomes funny. I laughed at the idea at the time, not really thinking I鈥檇 do it for my last column.
Well, I鈥檓 here: My final column. Rest assured, I won鈥檛 be typing out every miserable lyric of that 90s abomination. Honestly, I didn鈥檛 know what I would write for the longest time. I鈥檝e sketched out half a dozen different ideas, none of them satisfactory. At this point I鈥檓 just shooting from the hip. Let鈥檚 hope it goes somewhere.
I鈥檓 terrible at goodbyes. I never know what to say. It鈥檚 hard to sum up all those complex emotions in a few words. All too often, they feel cheap.
I should explain myself. Today I am unemployed. Nov. 6, 2018, was my final day at Yorkton This Week. I鈥檝e cleaned out my desk, sorted through my photos, and turned in my office key. I鈥檓 not just leaving the paper; I鈥檓 leaving the paper. I鈥檝e accepted a new job in Kelowna, B.C. I鈥檓 moving there this Saturday.
When I moved to Saskatchewan 16 months ago, I had no idea what to expect. I was a coastal boy leaving home for the first time. I鈥檇 spent the last four years studying journalism at University of King鈥檚 College. I didn鈥檛 know what I was in for.
Working at a weekly paper has been...well, it鈥檚 hard to describe. Most movies and television make journalism look either exceedingly glamourous or depressingly seedy. You鈥檙e either the prince or the pauper. The truth, as always, is in the middle. I鈥檝e spent countless late nights and early mornings writing and researching stories. I鈥檝e driven through snow drifts for a single photo. I鈥檝e wandered into remote farms and deserted roads. I鈥檝e also met interesting people and seen incredible things. No two days were the same. It鈥檚 been a ride.
When I moved to Saskatchewan, I was (barely) prepared for the flatlands and harsh winters. But I never expected to meet such incredible people. I鈥檝e made truly exceptional friends here, which makes this move even harder.
Change is inevitable. You can fight it, scream at it, but you can鈥檛 stop it. Life keeps moving on. At this transitional moment in my life, I鈥檓 reminded of this weirdly unifying lyric from pop-punk maestro Jeff Rosenstock: 鈥淪tale regrets are a waste of time/We all get old together.鈥�
I want to thank my friends, my co-workers, and, of course, you, the readers. Writing for you has been a pleasure, a privilege, and an honour.
Anyway, here鈥檚 Wonderwall.
