The Ivory Thought: Essays on Al Purdy

Good People

GoodPeople (for Al Purdy) GWENDOLYN GUTH i) Winnipeg Gothic Vern's two caps, like alternating angels of sense and sensibility on his tendrilled hair: —Of all the things I'velost, I miss my mind the most. —Some days I wake up grumpy. Other days, I let her sleep in. hDixieSWANSONG tattoo over left breast (the zeppelin buoyed by that view, oh boy) Dixie, bulimic hypochondriac of East Kildonan (ribcage cancer,varicose veins embossingovaries) Dixie, in black silk polyester kimono all day until moved by the nectar of prune Vern's butt smoking voice—pure pre-emphysema— (Oh, I wish I was in Dixie ...) insists aristocratically, fastidiousfrom the kitchen on spot free water glasses complaining dish towelled draped in an 8 foot python 137 138 I GWENDOLYN GUTH Going up to Onanole by putt, they pause one August evening for oysters & clams cum Botticelli. Apres souper they spy certain Silent Riders plying lawn darts and croquet behind le restaurant. "Slim" (gentle giant of duplicity) cases Vern's putt—mottled tank sides, pair of snake eyes fronting the fender chrome—then Vern's woman. Pronounces the heady honour: —Ride out with us, man, in pack formation— Vern, spider philosopher, strapping on vintage World War I spiked helmet contemplating the perimeter Something is about to happen Good People 139 ii) The West End Widows of Sault Ste.Marie Along with Italian newspapers &everyone here Luciano Pavarotti's wife denied reports he was screwing his secretary He might leave homefor a bowl of pasta, But for a woman? Never! privately lambasting that wheezing, whining, mealy-mouthed, scuttling, abject, sycophantic singer-man in flawless dialect I consider my face my best feature as it was from the first moment I poised the jar on my head and walked out of his gaze in our Calabrian village— though early on in his forever absence I was persuaded byMaria the banker's widow to claim recompense for line-drawn years of endless tending (zucchini, tomatoes, grapes, four walls, and children) to be living art on human tissue redraped by that young doctor a short plane ride away Gratia told me (and I have no evidence by which to presume her a liar) that Rosaria bought rubies red as raspberries for her ears and will come with us to the casino Saturdaynight dwindled into wives, we are becoming women again 140 GWENDOLYN GUTH iii) Ches of Dunrobin at work, he is clenched jaw a hammer claw, set like a hard bolt the grease missed hands like hams old Charlie with the one arm gone he'll rib 'em every chance this son of his who'll never be enough of one or shift his arse to save his neck up the hill, the old shack sits prettily inside that other century as the oilcloth sits on the slab of table and the wooddust sits over all here at this other place of French doors and pink brick the face lengthens into sunset glows into the faces of old friends (and some new listener) remembering that Cornwall nursing home his grandparents ran the old girls they cared for until death found out and the old uncle in the basement who wasn't all there remembering the day the pocketwatch fell out and dangled like a minor sun on its gold chain as the old lad stepdanced across the floor (and like magic he produces it engraved with bluebirds beaks aloft with ribbon) remembering one Easter morning back of the barn the black cow calved a sickly looking creature which by Tuesday was splayed out panting its last how spoon by spoon he coaxed a rum milkshake down its narrow throat Ches, dog, and cat watching five hours by the fire til the calf struggled up and he carried it back to the barn Good People \ 141 remembering those shit stupid Cameron Highlanders who raised up a trio of protegees from dragon's teeth in the valley soil a rapist, one came to be, and then after jail blown away in a highschool hall by his own gun another a mercenary disappeared in Angola the third so pissed one night after practicehe passed out one last time on the warmth of an electrical voltage box where they found him the next day but having no memory,no memory at all of that long ago morning old Charlie...