Sunday, January 20, 2008
In memory of Mollie
My great aunt Mollie has died. She had lived with Alzheimer's for many years, and spent the last eight years in a nursing home. A former nurse herself, she looked after the other residents, reassured them if they had to go to hospital, and was a firm favourite among the staff for her sunny nature. Apparently she used to believe she was living in a serviced hotel! It was always a pleasure to see her, her face wreathed in smiles, happy to have a visitor even if she wasn't certain who we were.
Nursing homes get a lot of bad press, but I won't hear a word against this one. One carer even came in on her day off to sit with Mollie's head in her lap, even though she was on morphine and not necessarily aware of her surroundings. It's an image that touches me profoundly. When Mollie passed away, all the staff were there with her.
Dad and I took Grandpa up to see her one last time, and I'm very glad we did, reconnecting with one of Dad's cousins who I haven't seen for years. But as I write this, we're trying to find out what kind of a person Mollie was. No-one is sure where she was born. We don't know quite which hospitals she worked at and when. Our memories are uncertain, half-remembered scraps of fact filled out with supposition. What we remember of her is her welcoming smile, the polite way she wouldn't smoke in your house, and her genial good humour. I remembered the last, triumphant line of Larkin's poem, "What will survive of us is love" - and despite his tentativedoubt in the penultimate line, it's that conclusion that stays with me. I suppose our family are "the endless, altered people," looking back, rather than reading her past. But her "remaining attitude" is the "final blazon" - it's love that survives.
So, in tribute to Mollie, a lovely person I never knew as well as I'd have liked to, I give you "An Arundel Tomb."
An Arundel Tomb
Side by side, their faces blurred,
The earl and countess lie in stone,
Their proper habits vaguely shown
As jointed armour, stiffened pleat,
And that faint hint of the absurd -
The little dogs under their feet.
Such plainness of the pre-baroque
Hardly involves the eye, until
It meets his left-hand gauntlet, still
Clasped empty in the other; and
One sees, with a sharp tender shock,
His hand withdrawn, holding her hand.
They would not think to lie so long.
Such faithfulness in effigy
Was just a detail friends would see:
A sculptor's sweet commissioned grace
Thrown off in helping to prolong
The Latin names around the base.
They would no guess how early in
Their supine stationary voyage
The air would change to soundless damage,
Turn the old tenantry away;
How soon succeeding eyes begin
To look, not read. Rigidly they
Persisted, linked, through lengths and breadths
Of time. Snow fell, undated. Light
Each summer thronged the grass. A bright
Litter of birdcalls strewed the same
Bone-littered ground. And up the paths
The endless altered people came,
Washing at their identity.
Now, helpless in the hollow of
An unarmorial age, a trough
Of smoke in slow suspended skeins
Above their scrap of history,
Only an attitude remains:
Time has transfigured them into
Untruth. The stone fidelity
They hardly meant has come to be
Their final blazon, and to prove
Our almost-instinct almost true:
What will survive of us is love.
- Philip Larkin
Nursing homes get a lot of bad press, but I won't hear a word against this one. One carer even came in on her day off to sit with Mollie's head in her lap, even though she was on morphine and not necessarily aware of her surroundings. It's an image that touches me profoundly. When Mollie passed away, all the staff were there with her.
Dad and I took Grandpa up to see her one last time, and I'm very glad we did, reconnecting with one of Dad's cousins who I haven't seen for years. But as I write this, we're trying to find out what kind of a person Mollie was. No-one is sure where she was born. We don't know quite which hospitals she worked at and when. Our memories are uncertain, half-remembered scraps of fact filled out with supposition. What we remember of her is her welcoming smile, the polite way she wouldn't smoke in your house, and her genial good humour. I remembered the last, triumphant line of Larkin's poem, "What will survive of us is love" - and despite his tentativedoubt in the penultimate line, it's that conclusion that stays with me. I suppose our family are "the endless, altered people," looking back, rather than reading her past. But her "remaining attitude" is the "final blazon" - it's love that survives.
So, in tribute to Mollie, a lovely person I never knew as well as I'd have liked to, I give you "An Arundel Tomb."
An Arundel Tomb
Side by side, their faces blurred,
The earl and countess lie in stone,
Their proper habits vaguely shown
As jointed armour, stiffened pleat,
And that faint hint of the absurd -
The little dogs under their feet.
Such plainness of the pre-baroque
Hardly involves the eye, until
It meets his left-hand gauntlet, still
Clasped empty in the other; and
One sees, with a sharp tender shock,
His hand withdrawn, holding her hand.
They would not think to lie so long.
Such faithfulness in effigy
Was just a detail friends would see:
A sculptor's sweet commissioned grace
Thrown off in helping to prolong
The Latin names around the base.
They would no guess how early in
Their supine stationary voyage
The air would change to soundless damage,
Turn the old tenantry away;
How soon succeeding eyes begin
To look, not read. Rigidly they
Persisted, linked, through lengths and breadths
Of time. Snow fell, undated. Light
Each summer thronged the grass. A bright
Litter of birdcalls strewed the same
Bone-littered ground. And up the paths
The endless altered people came,
Washing at their identity.
Now, helpless in the hollow of
An unarmorial age, a trough
Of smoke in slow suspended skeins
Above their scrap of history,
Only an attitude remains:
Time has transfigured them into
Untruth. The stone fidelity
They hardly meant has come to be
Their final blazon, and to prove
Our almost-instinct almost true:
What will survive of us is love.
- Philip Larkin
Labels: An Arundel Tomb, family, Inspiration, kindness, memory, Philip Larkin, poetry and spoken word performance, relationships, tribute to Mollie
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
An interesting interview
Today I spotted a cyclist with tinsel woven through her bike baskets, a cheerfully eccentric sight. There were a group of kids in their early teens outside the State Library this evening, hanging out and stepping from side to side and throwing hand gestures. When I walked past them, I realised that they were, fairly quietly, and intermittently breaking down into laughter, having some kind of rap battle! It was awesome - after being indoors reading and writing, to have such an organic spoken word performance just happening right there filled me with hope. Adelaide seems an intellectual and creative place - there really is a lot of interest in the arts here. I would have stopped to listen, but the kids were clearly doing it for their own entertainment rather than as a public performance. Sure, it happened in the 'everyday life' of 8 Mile ... but it surprised me to see it in South Australia!
I interviewed a south Australian guitarist-singer-songwriter, Laura Hill, this morning. She was different to the usual groups that I talk to for various reasons. Firstly, talking to just one person instead of a group, it's much more of a fair conversation. No-one's worried about saying something their bandmates will tease them for later. We could talk about much more personal issues - her mother's serious illness and how it motivated her to seize the day, overcoming stage fright and gaining the confidence to perform her own work, and what really troubles her about the music industry.
Then there were some things that struck me - and this is just my interpretation here - as being particularly applicable to women talking together, something I first studied as part of the Women's Folklore and Feminist Theory unit I took at uni. Firstly, when talking about following her dreams, there was a real acknowledgement of the doubts and difficulties she'd had to work through, and the impact of her decisions on her family and friends - none of that arrogant solo over-confidence I've occasionally observed with guys on the same kind of path.
She was also really interested in me, where I'd travelled, and what my dreams were - a slightly disconcerting experience for an interviewer to be put on the spot and asked about their musical background as well! (For a much more intense example of this, when the Australian Michael Parkinson, Andrew Denton, invited Richard E. Grant onto his chat show to plug Wah-Wah, Withnail completely turned the tables on him, having done a frightening amount of research into Denton's upbringing, star sign, and even how he reconciled with his estranged wife. I was watching it with friends in Melbourne thinking, "Wow! This is live TV and it's completely unpredictable!" Then a woman in the audience had a coughing fit and the onstage challenges momentarily ceased as they both strode out to pat her on the back and give her a glass of water.)
And finally, she was really keen to credit everybody who'd helped and supported her on her journey, from her parents to her partner to the members of the girls' surf club she founded. She made sure to mention every musician who'd assisted with her album, and stressed how much of a collaboration it was, even down to the fact that the cover photos were done as a mutual exchange with a photography student who needed to build up a professional portfolio. This just seemed really, well ... refreshing. I told her so, and at first she wasn't sure whether or not I meant it as a compliment. But it really was a tribute to her attitude. I hope she makes a go of it: the article will be out this week and her album launch is on the 3rd of March.
I interviewed a south Australian guitarist-singer-songwriter, Laura Hill, this morning. She was different to the usual groups that I talk to for various reasons. Firstly, talking to just one person instead of a group, it's much more of a fair conversation. No-one's worried about saying something their bandmates will tease them for later. We could talk about much more personal issues - her mother's serious illness and how it motivated her to seize the day, overcoming stage fright and gaining the confidence to perform her own work, and what really troubles her about the music industry.
Then there were some things that struck me - and this is just my interpretation here - as being particularly applicable to women talking together, something I first studied as part of the Women's Folklore and Feminist Theory unit I took at uni. Firstly, when talking about following her dreams, there was a real acknowledgement of the doubts and difficulties she'd had to work through, and the impact of her decisions on her family and friends - none of that arrogant solo over-confidence I've occasionally observed with guys on the same kind of path.
She was also really interested in me, where I'd travelled, and what my dreams were - a slightly disconcerting experience for an interviewer to be put on the spot and asked about their musical background as well! (For a much more intense example of this, when the Australian Michael Parkinson, Andrew Denton, invited Richard E. Grant onto his chat show to plug Wah-Wah, Withnail completely turned the tables on him, having done a frightening amount of research into Denton's upbringing, star sign, and even how he reconciled with his estranged wife. I was watching it with friends in Melbourne thinking, "Wow! This is live TV and it's completely unpredictable!" Then a woman in the audience had a coughing fit and the onstage challenges momentarily ceased as they both strode out to pat her on the back and give her a glass of water.)
And finally, she was really keen to credit everybody who'd helped and supported her on her journey, from her parents to her partner to the members of the girls' surf club she founded. She made sure to mention every musician who'd assisted with her album, and stressed how much of a collaboration it was, even down to the fact that the cover photos were done as a mutual exchange with a photography student who needed to build up a professional portfolio. This just seemed really, well ... refreshing. I told her so, and at first she wasn't sure whether or not I meant it as a compliment. But it really was a tribute to her attitude. I hope she makes a go of it: the article will be out this week and her album launch is on the 3rd of March.
Labels: feminism, friends, Inspiration, Laura Hill, poetry and spoken word performance, television
