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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Advance-Times, 1974-11-28, Page 15e- CrOSSO.000$CIS the ;weekly helel le'yeer Listewel Bonner, Whisks* Advance, 11loth aiid Meeti4 Forest Cottle - *rite lh reed by ap**0 Iwo* In the literilsed Madwesitroli Ontario. (Based on 3.3 readers le each of $.300 homes.) 4 Published every weeit n The Listawel Banner, The Winghorn Advance -Times and The. MotooForestConfederato by Wenger Oros. Limited. Writer ight v laughter in'.rdi In case we ever should return to town There are several things 1 must write down, Little things that might be forgotten, Little things that make life rotten Here on the farm . . . $o we'll make a list, Then we can recall the things we've missed. From "I Remember, I Remember" by Wilma M. Coutts There is no obscurity in the above passage from "Sonnets from a Saugeen Farm" by Willie, Wilma M. Coutts, a lady versifier from Durham. "I am not profound," she told me in an interview. "I just write about the ordinary thhigs, poking fun at myself, mostly." But the fun -poking bit aside, Mrs. Coutts belongs to that cate- gory of writers who write about their own backyards—about the things they know well—capturing the joys, the frustrations, the lit- tle tragedies and adventures. Her, subjects range from the predicament of being a novice on a farm, tackling snow, gaining weight, raising children and cleaning cream separators to the joys Of riding, in a Model T, so- cializing, growing old, pigs, lambs, pollution and nostalgia about urban life. Laughter is all that her verse invokes. And laughter, it has been said, is the best medicine in life. THINK ehe laughed (irs h4ta tell) For pigs, you know, don't laugh so well ; And yet to see those babies fight Would "Make a pig laugh" so I'm right! Mrs. Coutts described herself as a writer of light verse. She talked softly, weighing each word, standing by the fireplace now and then, walking to the door and leaning against the frame as she talked about verse and her life, punctuating the conversa- tions with "I don't want to brag. I don't think you should write that. I am only telling you so that you 41P know . . . " "They (journalists) always make mistakes," she noted. "I have never said I am the most published Canadian poet. I have said that I am the most published Canadian author of light verse. At least no one has challenged me on that." She was born in Durham, youngest daughter of Robert M. Smith. A fourth generation Cana- dian, she has English and Scottish ancestry. She received her high school education in Durham and finished it in Toronto. After a year in Regina, she returned to Toronto to work for a firm and there began seri- ously studying the art of writing under A. P. Mclshnie, a Canadian author. But she did not study the art of writing poetry. She studied the art of writing short stories. She hasn't published any. Not yet. Instead she has published three volumes of poems: Sonnets from a Saugeen Farm (1951), Daily Dozen, and Saugeen Sonnets II (1974). In addition, her poems have appeared regularly on the .editbritil page OI •The Toronto Stacillitti-1$5 and she has writ- ten articles and book reviews for The Star; Globe and Mail, The Observer, The Rotarian, The Business & Professional Women, to name only a few. Mrs. Coutts' poems were also read on the Canadian Broadcast- ing Corporation (CBC) by the late Maurice •Bodinton, who on pick- ing up a copy of Sonnets from a Saugeen Farm, called , George Cadogan, former editor of The Durham Cluvnicle, to find out "if I was for real". In 1936, Miss Wilma Smith married Charles Socket who died a year later in an air crash. They had one son, presently a teacher in Toronto. "I had no money," she re- called, "bee'ause my husband had invested it all in an aeronautical firm. I was in bad shape." It was then that she mbved to Socket's farm in Durham. With World War II coming and there being no help or hydro available, times were bad for the young urban girl who knew nothing about farming. The versifying began as funny little notes to her family in Toronto. In Dear Joey she wrote: Ah, would I were a city slicker, Down where pretty neons flicker, Where it's only half a mile to school, And indoor plumbing is the rule. Where street cars run right past your door, And work is through at half -past four, Where daylight comes before you rise, ' Oh, wouldn't that be paradise? Up here, old dear, it's very,drear, It's snowed and snowed, until I fear With drifts higher than the door We're maybe stuck forevermore. We CAN see the barn and most of the house, But the landscape between would make anyone grouse, If you know, please tell me, how in heck You can make any headway in snow to your -neck! But the thing we dreaded most has come, We know not now which way to run; Oh dreadful plight! Hope dashed asunder! Our W.C. has been snowed under!! On the so often proclaimed in- dependence of the farmers, Wilma wrote in the "Declaration of Independence", after enumer- ating all the advantages of that independence: Sometimes we'd like to ditch the chores, See a show, and have some fun, SOME OF MRS. COUTTS' poems are parodies. Stocked on shelves in her Durham home are some of the classics She has read. Mrs. Coutts Studied short story writing in Toronto. She hopes to write other forme of literature besides poetry. I wonder why it's never done' When we are SO•independent? Then when we *rad our at* away, If we don't like the price they pay„ We can have them all brung home to stay! Oh, what,price independence?. When Sunday morning conte each week We'd like a little extra sleep; To doze till seven would be heaven- -I'M TIRED OF INDEPEN • DENCE. yokes things some fare That we so painfully prepare; Then smack your lips and howl for more Cat -food .. . pilfered from the floor! Her most famous poem from The Daily Dozen is "Charge of the Mite Brigade", a parody of Tennyson's Charge of the Light `Brigade. It is a humorous account of youngsters headed to the matinee on a Saturday with chips, gum, popcorn, peanuts, cowboy and Indian yells. "I think most people mite* Shrieking with might and main, poetry as a form of, catharsis," All All more or less insane, Mrs. Coutts said during the inter- All the 600. view. "It's an emotional relief," she continued, noting that "Even Mrs. , Coutts' latest book is if they burn it afterwards, it has called Saugeen Sonnets Irand is a served their service." .. collection of her latest verses. They are still humorous but the And so that's what verse about the adventure of being topics more varied and serious. on thei farm, accomplished for Wilma, who married John Coutts of Dur- The Wreckers is about junk ham in 1941 and after one year on yards haunting her afterwards' the farm the couple moved to their present home, Idylwilde. , Now, when on my couch I lie, "People used to say it was As usual, in vacant mood, haunted," Mrs. Coutts said, al- They flash upon my inward eye most sarcastically. "It was Wilt To spoil the bliss of solitude;, by this little man who had a little In decency let's hide their scars wife but no children. So he built And bury old, dead motor cars. the largest house in town." In. her poem, Decidedly, Mrs. Of it Mrs. Coutts wrote, in pelt' Coutts discusses imie of the most per01,04641 .110#011 in Minton There are forty$wo windiwa,infilf0w0;*welW ft pt wiLh acre of floors, the .nature ot things t nt11111111 And no one's attempted to count beings themselves perpetuate. all the doors; Like the Tower of Babel, it's built far too high, Scaled to Pyrenees, brushing the sky. Her observations of the build- ing's woodwork screamed of the - woes of housekeeping: The woodwork is as broad as a dowager's bust, Making excellent housing for spiders and dust. The staircase is massive, it's long and it's wide, With two hundred dust -catchers carved on the side. Most folks have a basement, they're nice, I agree, But why in the world did he have to build three? When you've cleaned umpteen rooms there are still umpteen more With infinite distance from ceil- ing to floor. The verses passed hands from friends to friends and in 1951 it became inevitable for Mrs.: Coutts to have them published.' The title, which she insists "is too elegant for that type of work", was suggested by her neighbor, Col. F. Fraser Hunter. "For many years I have en- joyed the humor of these verses," he wrote. "They are inspired by my nearest neighbor and were not intended originally for publi- cation . With the help of Mr. Cadogan, Sonnets from a Saugeen Farm was published in 1951. It sold so well that in 1953 1,000 more copies were reprinted, and 2,000 more in 1971. In the meantime, Mrs. Coutts was working on verse, again humorous, about raising chil- dren. In Inverse Ratio, she re- called that awful shrilling of a baby in the wee hours of the night. Oh baby, when you wail and screech, And split the air with cries, I wonder why you didn't come With voice to match your size! Of the children's unusual as- sertion of independence, often in unorthodox ways, she wrote in the Paradox: What strange, plebeian tastes have you, My funny little daughter, That you should spurn your sterile milk, Your antiseptic water. Scent WI Strained and whole - People ask: kis there a hell? Of course there is! War is hell, Selfishness, discord, • Remorse—all hell— And made all By people. • And in The Glamour Girl, Mrs. Coutts pokes fun at the ever pre- occupation of people with super- ficialities in human beings. Six proposals this year Because, as they say, She is a "livin' doll". Mrs. Coutts has had skirmishes with publishers who still have to putlish her works on a regular basis. Canadian publishers, she pointed out, shy away from poets mainly because the,sale of poetry books averages to 700 a year each title. Like most writers she feels that the advent of television has con- tributed to the death of many magazines. This in turn has re- duced the forum for writers. Although the clamor about Canadian writers has developed in her lifetime and there are many writers living on govern- ment grants, Mrs. Coutts goes her way alone, so to speak. She writes her poems, takes them to the printers and then to retailers for distribution. Some- times, she said, the reception is very poor; sometimes it's not. Talking about asking for grants, Mrs. Coutts said, "Some- times I wonder if I shouldn't have applied for them. Maybe I should have: Now that I see that people enjoy them, I wonder." Her major complaint at the moment is lack of time "to do more creative writing". She would like to write short stories and more verse, particularly about Saugeen River, illustrated with photographs from the source to the end. "Writing light verse is very dif- ficult," she observed. "It should- n't be difficult now to write other things." Meanwhile, she is trying to answer her mail, "from people who write to me from all kinds of places", to be a full-time house- wife, work on her CVOS Owen Sound radio program where she reads her poems, and speak at clubs and schools. She has also completed a series of autobio- graOies of Canadian authors for CFOS. Whatever she does, Mrs. Coats has woken audience and a good following. "What a .wonderful talent to snatch these little experiences common to us ali, roll them into a Oft bale and with a deft hand Feciture and photos by Chege'-Mbitiiu slam them against the mirror for alliof US to see and laugh at," a woman from Hagestown, Indiana once wrote. Mrs. Coutts has some experi- ences she hasn't written about. She Is a flyer: "I can get the plane from the ground but I'm not .1] • *Fe X eee bt.isig# ehe obi. • served. Me Us even ridden a• motorcycle but now rides a 1317 cycle. With allthh; bubbling energY, it is likely that kW will write *hot these experiences and many more ---and there will belaughto. IDYLWILDE IS THE NAME of the home in which Mrs. Coutts lives with her husband, John, a Durham real estate agent. She says people in Durham used to say the home was haunted, but the couple has never found a reason to move out. IN THE COMFORT of her Durham home, which she once described as having been built like the Tower of Babel, Mrs. Wilma Colitis leafs through a copy of her latest book, Saugeen Sonnets 11. Book publishing, she ays, needs more promotion than she has been able to handle.