Stompin' Tom


caroljane

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Snow is drifting from the heavens here today, probably shaken loose by the stomp of his arrival.

He died yesterday, around the time that a Leaf was knocking a Senator out cold in a fight at the first minute of the good old hockey game.

He has been called Canada's Woody Guthrie, but no. No poetry, no politics and no great musical talent. Tom is the grim and raucous redandwhiteneck part of our soul, the chipped mirror that reflects us without comment.

In his songs we met the stranger we avoided in the Sudbury tavern, the trucker going the other way on the Trans-Canada, the picker we passed in the Tillsonburg fields, and he was us.

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Carol:

Is this phrase yours? If it is, it is remarkable.

"...the chipped mirror that reflects us without comment."

A...

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Carol:

Is this phrase yours? If it is, it is remarkable.-

"...the chipped mirror that reflects us without comment."

A...

yes - as far as I consciously know! If it was a quote I would have attributed.

I hope you wikied Tom and saw how remarkable his life was. He was with his mother in a low security women's prison. for example, until the Children's Aid removed him.

I have a tenuous connection to him. His cousin, Maritime fiddler Ned Landry, was also a cousin of my aunt's husband. Tom was born in Saint John, 75 miles from my hometown.

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Snow is drifting from the heavens here today, probably shaken loose by the stomp of his arrival.

He died yesterday, around the time that a Leaf was knocking a Senator out cold in a fight at the first minute of the good old hockey game.

He has been called Canada's Woody Guthrie, but no. No poetry, no politics and no great musical talent. Tom is the grim and raucous redandwhiteneck part of our soul, the chipped mirror that reflects us without comment.

In his songs we met the stranger we avoided in the Sudbury tavern, the trucker going the other way on the Trans-Canada, the picker we passed in the Tillsonburg fields, and he was us.

Chipped mirror that reflects us without comment.

That is so choice!

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