The Icelandic Canadian - 01.04.1988, Side 12

10
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
SPRING, 1988
Walt Whitman has it, he knew that the
powerful play must go on, and he hoped
that he would be able to contribute a verse.
He once wrote, “Yes, I inherited the Ice-
landic spirit... In spite of those who believe
strongly in the power of environmental
influence, I know I cannot escape the color
and shape of the spirit inherited in my
chromosomes any more than I can escape
the color of my hair or the shape of my
nose . . . The early Viking had a heroic
concept of life. He did not fear death . . .
The Viking also had a clear understanding
of the evil of life, and had the courage to
resist it and overcome it. Moreover, he had
no compromise with any thing which gave
him shame or made him a lesser man. He
knew he had a free will and he knew that if
his will was strong enough, he could keep
an undefeated spirit and master his own
life. He could resist fate even though he
could not overcome it.”1
Paul has kept an undefeated spirit. But
he has had to make some adjustments in
his way of living. He had been active in all
sports, and, in their pursuit, he had led a
vigorous life. Such a life was now out of
the question. Curling had been his favorite
sport. He had been a curler of champion-
ship calibre, right up top with the best.
“Curling,” he once wrote. “That’s my
game. It gives me moments of exquisitely
agonizing suspense. It gives me fellowship
and intellectual challenge. No other game
gives me all this in like measure.”2 And as
he pointed out. “No game so shatters the
walls among classes and individuals.” Curl-
ing is a game in which the best man wins.
And the best man is the man who can
adjust to the ever-changing condition of an
everchanging game. And it does not matter
a whit on which side of the tracks he may
live.
In 1966, he gave proof that his interest
in the game still runs high. He published a
poem, “The Shot of Angus Stone” — a
poem of 48 stanzas, each 8 lines in length.
Angus Stone was a granite Scot trans-
planted from the glen, who curled “for
competition, not for game.”
“He had a childish passion for the game;
And on the ice it seemed his body glowed;
And eagerness ignited all his frame;
And every move enthusiasm showed;
Tho he was down or leading — all the same —
He played his wins and skunkings “a la mode.”
And when he felt his zesty zeal was slipping,
He paused for breathing — or for brandy
sipping.”3
His enthusiasm for the game prompted
Angus to make a pact with the Devil “to
ride the blizzard winds till Judgment
Day,” for assistance in making a shot
“which started west, chipped round in one
clear circle, finally going east,” which en-
abled him to win a curling match against a
rival, for whom his love “was watered
down and thin.”
Although his playing days are long since
over, baseball is another sport in which
Paul has maintained a lively interest. In
1985, he was invited to write a short his-
tory of the Morden Whiz-Bangs, a girls’
baseball team that established a remarkable
record in tournament play over the years
1947 to 1951. He was pleased to accept
the invitation and produced an interesting
24 page booklet. A man cannot put his pen
to paper without revealing something of
himself. Paul has revealed much of himself
in his account of “the Remarkable Morden
Whiz-Bangs.” Listen! he is speaking:
“Coaches and sports managers lie awake
nights trying to piece together the right
formula, the right mix, to get the best out
of their teams. But the more they seek for
the formula the more they come to realize
there is no formula. A formula implies
something mathematical and scientific.
Finally, they reach the conclusion that
human beings are Godly, emotional, and
unique, and that they cannot be grooved,
or honed or tuned like a machine, or mixed
like a choice cocktail. The swizzle stick