We Need To Talk About Telemiracle

Yep. Deal with it.

Whether you like it or not, we do. I know it’s not going to be popular, in fact probably uncomfortable which is why we need to talk about it.

Absolutely nobody but me is stupid enough going to have this conversation, so here we go.

For nearly five decades, Saskatchewan has clung to Telemiracle like a lifeline.

It started in 1977 as a scrappy fundraiser designed to address the decentralization from institutions of Saskatchewan residents with high physical or cognitive needs.

Eventually the Kinsmen Foundation for the Handicapped, in 1977 led by Urban Donlevy, would just become the Kinsmen Foundation.

Yes, Donlevy.

We’ll leave that today.

First, let’s acknowledge some truths.

1. Ring Those Phones

If you grew up in Saskatchewan, you grew up with Telemiracle. For me, it evokes a deep, bittersweet nostalgia woven into the memories of frozen childhood winters.

Huddling around the TV with family as local heroes—farmers, teachers, and small-town stars—sang, danced, or stumbled through skits, all for a cause that felt as broad and vast as Saskatchewan itself. The old jingle might still echo in your mind, paired with the thrill of staying up late and begging your parents to pledge just a few dollars more, this time in your name.

The anticipation of then watching, unblinking, for your name to scroll the bottom of the screen.

My mom’s favorite soap opera stars, right in downtown Saskatoon!

It was an annual province-wide ritual, a blend of Saskatchewan hope and charm, combined with the warmth of collective goodwill.

In a bygone era, telethons like Telemiracle once stood as the pinnacle of philanthropy because they harnessed the power of the collective in an era of sparse media.

Put simply, it was an opportunity for the entire province of Saskatchewan to come together, annually, through a single broadcast. This was especially true in its early days, when every song, plea, and donation felt like a communal act of defiance against the hardships facing Saskatchewan.

Telemiracle thrived on the then-novelty of live television, uniting people across Saskatchewan’s sprawling expanse, in real-time, for a common cause, with the phone jingle serving as a tangible lifeline to participation.

Telemiracle has been a truly beautiful exercise, without a doubt.

2. Telemiracle has held an outsized importance in rural Saskatchewan.

Growing up in the 80s and 90s, isolation defined daily life in rural Saskatchewan. In an era before the internet bridged distances, for one weekend Telemiracle turned the province into a single, tight-knit community.

With limited access to specialized healthcare or support services, rural residents saw Telemiracle’s proceeds directly transform lives: wheelchairs delivered to a cousin, therapy for a friend’s child. It became intensely personal.

For struggling families under Grant Devine and Romanow, scattered across farms and tiny hamlets, the telethon was more than a fundraiser—it was connection.

It was a reminder they weren’t alone.

3. Telemiracle attempts to address a critical gap in public healthcare funding.

Which is why only Opposition leaders Ted Malone (Saskatchewan Liberals) and Dick Colvers (PC Party of Saskatchewan), but none of then-Premier Blakeney’s government officials, appeared on the first telecast.

We all know Saskatchewan’s universal system has fallen short of covering specialized equipment, accessibility upgrades, and patient support services for as long as Telemiracle has existed.

Telemiracle’s funds are supposed to plug holes in a system strained by vast geography and lack of political will to provide proper coverage to Saskatchewan residents.

4. Criticism of Telemiracle does not equate to a critique of the Kinsmen or Kinettes.

Their tireless community work remains a cornerstone of Saskatchewan’s social fabric. The Kinsmen and Kinettes boots-on-the-ground will always uplift towns and cities. Their broader mission, rooted in grassroots goodwill, stands apart, resilient and respected.

I’m sure it always will.

I appreciate I’m trying to cauterize a wound I haven’t opened yet, so let’s be clear, one more time for the peanut gallery:

1. Telemiracle represents the ultimate in Saskatchewan nostalgia.

2. It’s been and perhaps remains very important to rural Saskatchewan.

3. It was created and remains intact to address Saskatchewan tax dollar-funding shortfalls.

4. Kinsmen and Kinettes are wonderful people.

Okay?

We clear?

Those things can be true, while also not negating the need for some critical thinking around this defining Saskatchewan touchpoint, in 2025.

Because for 50 years, Telemiracle has promoted the premise that Saskatchewan residents should be begging for scraps to fund medical necessities in the first place.

So buckle up, let’s get into it.