There is
often a moment in older age, pottering through your usual routine, which pulls
you up short and makes you think beyond the banalities of the Brexit debate or
of Meghan’s latest outfit. I had just such a moment 2 weeks ago as I had the
melancholy duty to attend the funeral in Aberdeen of a much-loved sister-in-law
– the attendance of several hundred friends testified to a busy life embracing
different circles and to her popular personality, in part softening the blow to
my bereft brother.
The emotions one feels are largely positive.
Love and gratitude predominate while happy memories take precedence, humorous
events and moments are fondly recalled. There is necessarily a rueful acknowledgement
of the inevitability of mortality but this is overcome by a sea of friendly,
sometimes half-forgotten, faces, placing a mourned life in a warmly esteemed
context.
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| The city of Aberdeen |
Our return train journey from Folkestone via King’s Cross, London to Aberdeen took us most of the length of our beloved country. The stretch from London to York was taken at high speed and Grantham’s high parish church tower (at the sight of which Ruskin swooned) was followed by gigantic York Minster, hugely impressive Norman Durham Cathedral, the historic walls of Berwick-on-Tweed and on to Edinburgh affording glimpses of the Castle and the Royal Mile. The train trundles on slowly passing the majestic Forth estuary with its three huge bridges (I walked over the first road bridge before it opened to traffic in 1964). We soon see busy Dundee incomparably sited by the wide river Tay (I sailed there with a close Dundee friend in the 1960s) spanned by more long bridges. Then we were on very familiar ground as we passed Montrose (I went to church there every Sunday from my prep school in the early 1950s) then Stonehaven (nearby ruined Dunnottar Castle is an unmissable sight) and finally to my splendid home town of Aberdeen. I had not lived there since 1968 and my recent visits have been fitful but what memories this journey evoked!
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| The iconic Forth Bridges |
Memories are certainly what I thrive upon and I can blot out the disagreeable ones and cherish the happy ones. Yet I am not so old that all I do is wallow in an unbalanced nostalgia. I still have some years left in my armoury and want to make them count. Family unity and the fulfilment of individuals within it are priorities, public life needs to be followed and causes campaigned for. Although it is getting harder, new contacts and hopefully new friends need to be made and participations embarked upon. We do not need to stand alone, we are all members of a local community.
Plenty of honoured grey-beards show us the way.
Norman Tebbit (87) is a doughty controversialist of the Thatcherite Tory school
while Michael Heseltine (85) is the last-surviving Tory “wet” and loquacious to
boot. More admirable perhaps is Judy Dench (84) still delighting audiences on stage
and screen or charming naturalist David Attenborough (92), not to mention ultra-dedicated
Her Majesty the Queen (92). No excuse for slacking!
Old people are not naturally crotchety or
negative. My much-missed sister-in-law never had a harsh word for anybody and
we can follow her example. The old like to reach out and help the young in
peace and contentment. We would do well to moderate our language and stop
accusations of betrayal, conspiracy or malevolence. Most opinions are honestly
held and debate should be polite, civil and thoughtful. The old strive for
harmony among all mankind, as the poet said:
” That man to man the world o’er shall brithers
be, for a’ that.”
SMD
26.2.19
Text
copyright© Sidney Donald 2019
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