I'm in tears much of today. A hockey team from Humboldt Saskatchewan was in an accident last night, and 15 people, most of them young teen hockey players died, and another 14 are in the hospital, some never to play the game again.

When I was in another life I was a newspaper reporter in Saskatchewan, and I covered the games from that team. I actually made one bus trip with our team. The distances in Saskatchewan are huge, and players ride the buses for up to seven hours going from one town to another, sometimes a route that takes them to several different cities at a time. This is the first major accident since the 80s, when four players died in Swift Current, also in Saskatchewan. This accident was far worse.

Most of these boys were from out of town, so they had two sets a parents. Their natural parents in the distant city, and billet parents in Humboldt, who volunteer to look after the boys, rooming and feeding them, and getting as close to them as real parents. Two families to grieve over each of the boys. Two sets of friends. Two sets of classmates.

There are less than 6000 people in Humboldt, with a surrounding area of wheat farms. Over 2000 of them would be fans, at least in the playoffs.
The entire town will be grieving. Perhaps the whole country is grieving. I know I am. Over a dozen young players struck down in the prime of their lives, all with their dreams of pro hockey careers gone (that league is probably the lowest one that a young man can go through and still make it to the pros).

I must go and cry some more. Just writing this has been hard.

Dawn