The Icelandic Canadian - 01.08.2009, Blaðsíða 49

Vol. 62 #3
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
139
Poetry
>
Relatives
by Douglas Henderson
Twice, when hitchhiking on the Prairies in the 60s
I’ve been picked up by Icelanders
Taking one look at me they said
And whose boy are you?
Of course we found out we were related.
Pounding nails on a construction site
On Saltspring Island, B.C.
The other carpenter, noticed my silver ring, asking
Is that an Icelandic ring?
> Of course we were related.
I told these stories later
At a dinner party in Victoria.
A grey-eyed daughter of Freya across the table
Dropped her fork, laughing -
You guessed it.
One day, in my antiques shop
An Inuit - eyes of obsidian and coppery skin
A maker of shamans’ drums
Down from the High Western Arctic
Came in and asked if I had any books
On arctic explorers.
Not at the moment I said -
And, in passing, mentioned my connection
^ To the great traveller Vilhjalmur Stefansson.
He smiled and said
My mother’s aunty was his northern wife
I rushed around the counter and hugging him said,
Cousin! Cousin!