Fishing rods, cans of insect repellant and Mum’s warning to clean whatever we caught wherever we docked the boat traditionally marked the first long weekend of our summers as the sons of Tony Reid. The best I could manage this year was a beer with my brother in Adirondack chairs anchored on the lakeshore.

The spirit on that clear blue sky Victoria Day morning envisioned me dressed in layers to peel off when the air heated by sunlight lifted with the mist and lingering chill over water cold as melted ice. In my mind’s eye, waves rippled from the easy skim of the boat to the spots where Jon, the loons and I would search the clear depths for trout. Bait on hooks at the end of our rods lured what the lake had for us to take. The hours spun out like fishing line measured in timeless moments spent doing nothing together but waiting for the fish to bite.

My spirit cursed the flesh that was still too weak.
Evan Reid
Husband, father, son, brother, and Right Honourable Prime Minister of Canada