This poem was written in 1965 when I packed up my family and moved from Montreal, Quebec to Calgary, Alberta Canada. We truly felt like pioneers moving our way west to make a new home.
Oh pity the Western bound stranger, with sunburned and leathery face.
Whose eyes gleam of hope and adventure to be found in that faraway place.
Just like a pioneer he travels, but now it is for frolic and fun,
As he steers his chrome studded wagon, his camera replacing his gun.
Now behold, oh misguided observer. See the bumps on his weather tanned face.
And note how vigorously he scratches, black fly bites all over the place.
And see how he stares ahead proudly, hand shading his brow firm and strong.
The look is not proud, its desperation – as he searches in vain for a John.
-Doug Garrett