Dedication & sharing drive these posts. For this 500th edition, a non-fiction personal journey with our president.

My Musical Journey

Bobi Leutschaft Poitras

My musical journey is a long and twisting tale. When Yvonne asked me to share it here, I said yes, then immediately thought, Ach, it’s so loooooong!  I will condense as much as I can.  

It started very young. I had an older brother, Marty, who loved music and, as far back as I can remember, he played everything for me. He loved the Beatles then and when my father wasn’t home, we listened on our little turntable to records he borrowed from friends and snuck into the apartment. Rock and Roll was not encouraged in our home! Not until I came home from school one day to the complete shock of my dad playing my new single – Signs, by the Five Man Electrical Band. He looked at me, and instead of telling me I was not to listen to this garbage, he said, “This isn’t so bad.” His new girlfriend was having a positive influence on him. 😂

I got my first guitar when I was 10 but didn’t ever learn to play it.  My father was a contradictory man… one minute he was telling his friends that I was going to be a singer, the next he was lecturing me about what a waste of time music was.  He wasn’t a bad guy, just confused for many reasons that have nothing to do with this story.

Fast forward to the age of 15.  I had just been introduced to Bob Dylan by an English teacher who said that, as a poet, I would like him.  Understatement of 1975!  I saved babysitting money for the next several months and bought myself a cheap black guitar that I called Arlo.  Again, I learned a few chords, wrote a few songs, played Dylan.  I even started a Folk Club in high school.  (I’ve been starting things all my life – just wasn’t great with follow-through till much later!) Unfortunately, my life was turmoil, and I was drawn more and more into the drug world and out of the playing side of the music world.  I couldn’t get guitar lessons, and I wasn’t motivated enough to teach myself to play well.

The day after I turned 18, I left a note on my pillow, packed my guitar (which I still had hopes for) and a few clothes in a backpack, and hopped on a Greyhound bus.  Back then, you could go across the country for $79.  That ticket was good for three months – you could hop off and on in any place the bus went.  I was headed for Regina but stayed on till Calgary on a whim.  I met someone adventurous and we hitched a ride, just for fun, up to Lake Louise.  On the way back, it took many hours to hitch a ride, and my guitar froze and never sounded quite right again.  (Remember – it was a cheap guitar to begin with). It was the end of January, so yeah, very cold. 

Shorten that story – I ended up in a youth hostel in Calgary, met someone I lived with for 3 years and with whom I moved to Regina, then to Vancouver.  I didn’t play much guitar after that and didn’t take it up again till I was married with a few children.  Again, I played a bit, but life was very busy.  

When we moved to Glengarry, we became involved with and eventually joined the local Mennonite church. No musical instruments allowed!  I sold my guitar (I had an Epiphone by then) to the postmaster in Green Valley and washed my hands of the whole thing.  That was more than 23 years ago.  I left that church almost 14 years ago.  

Now I’m going to skip everything from then until a day in Cornwall with Yvonne.  We went to Melody Music, just for fun, and I was looking at guitars.  I might mention here that I never stopped writing poetry.  I picked up a guitar and played a couple of chords.  Yvonne said I should buy a guitar and take it up again.  Ah, too late for me, I said.  Time wasted can’t be recovered, and I had wasted all my guitar time. But Yvonne got me thinking… maybe. I also have a friend near Peterborough who kept insisting that my poetry should be put to music. There were guitars at my house, but I didn’t play them. 

Leave it to Yvonne to arrange with my son Michael a special gift for my 64^th birthday.  Between family and friends, they collected enough money for me to buy the nicest little guitar – my Taylor GS Mini.  My friends and family bought me a guitar!  Well, now I had to play!  I still don’t know a lot of chords, but more than before and I’m always trying to learn new ones.  And what happens when a poet plays a guitar? Songs.  I started writing a song for my son Erik’s wedding, and before it was even done, I had written another one. 

Enter Collectif member Robert Colosino.  He was in my basement with Michael, playing music as they so often did (and still do).  I got up the nerve, went down, and played him my song.  He was so encouraging, said it was great, and that next time he came he expected a new song.  Encouragement goes a long way.  I’ve been writing ever since and have 33 songs completed.  Some are just for family, and not all are great, but still, songs.  

And now?  Now Robert (Bobby) and I (Bobi) are a group called Ditto. You will have seen our debut if you were at the AGM this past November.  And we’re writing fabulous songs. 😎

What got you into your creative outlet(s)? Share text & images by sending to cagac.ca@gmail.com

Qu’est-ce qui vous a poussé à vous lancer dans vos activités créatives ? ​​Partagez vos textes et images en les envoyant à cagac.ca@gmail.com