Category: Death

Dave Scott
instantly identifiable.
In a room full of strangers
anybody could have picked him out.
He looked exactly the combination of his two names
accessible and sensible.
The sort who probably cut a few classes
just enough to know about the other side
to be sympathetic and wary of the devil.
The first training placement
he mentor and marker.
Welcome he said, meaning it.

There was something winsomely outdated about him
clothing
handwriting
slang
almost everything
even coffee break. He drank tea
from a conical cup
rim twice the diameter of base
with a saucer
slow thoughtful slurps
thinking about lessons finished … and to come.

I remember that cup forever
yellow and old-fashioned
it paused with perfect symmetry
exactly half way from table to mouth
rigid with attention – a witness.
The staffroom swarmed around us
bundles of photocopying
collected assignments
deans with punishment lists.
In the desperate way people look for survivors
I had asked the question.

Expectation and hope.
Hope expected a well intentioned lie
expectation hoped time be proposed as solution.
Teaching really couldn’t be taught he said
“Its largely innate, either someone can . . . or can’t”
after 27 years of trainees he just knew
said anybody of similar experience would.
“it’s not for everybody
I don’t think it is for you.”

For the back story click Backstage
If you like a piece of writing (or the site) please share

To my parents’ world he brought a little glamour
the ephemeral intimacy of overlapping holidays
strangers sharing the sardine proximity
permissible only at vacation time.

He was prominent in the country’s national sport
royalty
a place at the centre of court.
Television was still in diapers
the Internet yet to be conceived
the local newspaper gushed a story and photograph
of him and family enjoying the town’s hospitality.
My parents archived anecdotes
for replaying to friends and neighbours.

The judge said it was a very sad case
sentencing difficult
the circumstances complex
journeying from the hospital bed of a terminally ill son
a deceitful cocktail of prescription serenity and alcohol
misled his vehicle
down a one way ….. the wrong way.
The dead driver without chance or blame
the defendant’s life history exemplary. Remorse genuine.
Famous a decade ago
but now fame of a different sort
newspaper and television scrutiny
punishment enough.
No conviction.

My parents heaved relief
a good man they said.
Two years later the good man is pictured
at a reunion – glass prominent.
My mother flings her hand at the newspaper
“look at that, after what he did”
my father condemns, “I can’t believe it.”
His name is never spoken again.

For the back story click Backstage
If you like a piece of writing (or the site) please share

Ephemeral
a word no one would have used then
some things do not require definition
in order to be recognized.

Transient
temporary
fleeting
it was obvious to all.
Except the two principal actors – that took longer.

Wrapped in togetherness.
the magic and the magnetism
Everything is possible, no probable
brightness bends to winners.

There were dark times – too many
blame was a distant echo
caution, a refuge for losers
they were golden.

Now many years later
scatters of memory
brief acknowledgments.
Did it ever really happen?

For the back story click Backstage
If you like a piece of writing (or the site) please share