Doris
Daley, poet
"Doris comes from a gene pool that includes Irish stowaways, sorry team ropers, good pie makers, ranchers and saskatoon berry pickers...a pedigree that makes for inspired cowboy poetry." The League of Canadian Poets, Stanza E- Newsletter, Dec 2004
She is also the first Canadian to win the prestigious Academy of Western Artists' award for the best female poet in North America.
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Interview for Dreamers and Doers, at Stony Plain Cowboy Poetry Festival.
Q: What is your connection to cowboy culture?
A: I lived away from Alberta in the ‘80’s.
I was several years in Pennsylvania and then a few more years in Ontario.
And while those were great years for me, it took going away to make me
home sick and want to come back and realize just what I had left.
And just how rich my life was and how lucky I was to grow up in ranching
community. And realize that there
really is a culture here in Alberta that differs from other parts of Canada.
The ranch rodeos and
the music people sing. Not the
Nashville country and western, although I sure many people like that as well,
but the real cowboy music that celebrates who westerners are out here in
Alberta.
In cowboy poetry land
there are several gatherings throughout the province. There’s Danby and Pincher Creek every spring and here we
are, well you’d think it was summer, the calendar says its summer in Stony
Plain. I’m from just outside of
Calgary, and there’s many corporate BBQ’s and conferences and conventions
that want to celebrate the west and cowboy land.
When they bring their corporate visitors to Calgary they trot out the
cowboy poets and entertain for visitors to Alberta.
Q: Final Question
A: A&E in AB are under appreciated and probably under funded
but exist in bountiful measure around the kitchen table and in the tack rooms
and on the trail maybe that is ultimately where they have their beauty or have
their charm.
13-14 years later I love it more and more. I love the people that I meet, that I am on stage with. Especially the audience around the campfires and kitchen tables. I feel like I’ve found my tribe of people.
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A
letter to Mr. Russell,
Dear
Charlie,
Well I guess they call it progress. Progress ain’t all bad.
For
sure I have conveniences that grandma never had.
But lately I can scarce keep up with all the lingo in my cup, it’s a
chowder I don’t want to supp. It’s
sad.
When
the land belonged to God no SUV’s where bison trod.
No ATM’s or ATV’s. No
ENRONS run by SOB’s. No CIA, no
RCMP’s, no NAFTA, no GST.
When
you waited for a Chinook, no HBO or self-help books, no BLM’s or PCB’s.
No stealthy bombs, no killer bees. No
IRS or IRA. No I-15, no Y2K.
No VCR
or DVD. No bovine spongiform
encephalopathy. No GPS when cows
got loose. No HP sauce, no V8
juice.
Before
the white man came, big brother didn’t run the game.
No CNN on 24/7. No 7-UP, no
7/11. No IBM, no CD-ROM. No www.west.com.
Here’s
my fervent plea, when my time comes may I RIP.
‘Til then a prayer for this world and me, may we get a grip ASAP.
Signed,
DD
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