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Newfoundland has always had robust credentials when it comes to musical talents. On my unsubstantiated scale it's a close second to Nova Scotia's amazing depth of Canadian folk stars. Both have Celtic roots and until I went to Newfoundland I hadn't discovered where the Rock really excels. I've been to Nova Scotia three times in my life and have a couple of solid friends who kept the faith with me for quite some time. However, I've never come away thinking I must write a poem about them.
In six short days in Twillingate I came across several characters and a few landmarks that simply can't be resisted. In Newfoundland if you're not from there you are from 'away'. Sounds simple doesn't it?
What I hadn't realized is an 'away' person isn't made to feel apart from the inhabitants, they're embraced! Even in Ireland which was on the top of my list of places visited as the most welcoming I was never made to feel like I was part of the family. For the most part, West coasters are a more subdued lot and the majority of us who are lucky enough to live on Vancouver Island are from away. It was not the case when I first arrived in Ladysmith in January of 1970. Ladysmith was a dingy hick town just off the highway going to Victoria. My mother had accepted a position here and was living alone while my dad finished up his job in Kitimat. She bribed me with a trip to England to entice me away from Lloydminster Alberta/Saskatchewan. She needn't have tried so hard because I was past ready to leave Canadian winters far behind forever. My folks adopted Ladysmith as their new home town and I've always been grateful. It's where my son was born and now we live here again. My brother moved here too after he retired and bought a home. My parents choosing such a pleasant place to live has meant my son has roots he can claim as home turf. He's not from 'away' when it comes to this island. This is something I lack as a Canadian because an 'instant' company town such as Kitimat did not foster connections and instead instilled in me and many others a desperate need to escape. I left at the age of sixteen and have only returned once. When I drove through town I wasn't overcome with nostalgia of better days but filled with the euphoria that I had made it out alive.
This is where Newfoundland is different. It has connections generations deep. When I stand on ground where a man can tell me about his brother's land alongside of his substantiates the fact it's been in the family since their forefathers came from away across the ocean. Immigrants who stayed put and when their children and grandchildren leave Newfoundland it's always pulling them back because their connections are Rock solid. This entrenched love of their homeland inspires poets like me. Poets who are into writing about soaked up atmosphere they've made connections with. Poets who feel the deep bonds of others for their corner of the world. Poets who travel to experience the lives and loves of where they're just visiting. For the first time in my travels away from my adopted island town of Ladysmith on the West Coast I came upon a place that made me feel more welcome. I can't believe I could have had a better time if I'd driven there and seen that. Twillingate habitants got into my bones. I composed a poem about the patriarch of the Young family who I referenced several times in my travelogue. After a false start I submitted the poem to Downhome which is a magazine I noticed everywhere in Newfoundland. Back issues of Downhome were in hospital waiting rooms, cafés, B&B lounges, bars and had the appearance of being well read too. It's the size of The Reader's Digest and it boasts photos, stories, poetry, recipes and other tidbits from their readers most of who are Newfoundlanders but there's no restrictions on who can sign up, submit and subscribe so I did all three. When I left I felt as if I too owned a piece of the Rock which is what Newfoundlanders do for you. Bless them all!
Downhome
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"Tigers bloom where there's oodles of room." Zodiac Zoo
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Travelogue -final installment[?]
