Al Purdy Was One of Us

As the lakes turn lead-grey and the biting winter winds wrap themselves around my bones, I am reminded of one of my favourite poets, Canadian legend Al Purdy.

Alfred Wellington Purdy was born in 1918 in Wooler, Ontario. At 17, he dropped out of school and travelled by rail to Vancouver, where he served in the Royal Canadian Air Force until after World War II. It wasn’t until the 1960s, after several jobs, that he was able to support himself as a poet and became English Canada’s “unofficial poet laureate.”

I don’t mention Al Purdy enough in my writings even though he has been one of my biggest poetic influences—I even visited Roblin Lake a few years ago, where he lived right up to his death (picture below).

You see, Al Purdy was one of us. He wrote accessible poetry about everyday life—his blue-collar jobs, marriage, love, and his general observations on the mundanity of life. And he had the gift of being able to see humour in it all because let’s face it, life is hilarious. Even when it’s sad, it can still be funny. Even in the dead of winter, there is still humour.

Which brings me back to Roblin Lake. As this winter drags us along, I am happy to share my favourite poem of his, which in typical Al Purdy fashion shows that there is always something fun lurking just under the surface.

Winter at Roblin Lake By Al Purdy

Seeing the sky darken & the fields
turn brown & lake lead-grey
as some enormous scrap of sheet metal
& wind grabs the world around the equator
I am most thankful then for knowing about
the little gold hairs on your belly