The Old Hack

Today should have been a day for celebration.  Let me correct that statement.  Today IS a day for celebration.

 Today would have been my father’s 90th birthday.  The fact that he is not here to enjoy it detracts from celebration; the fact that his legacy of kindness, good humour, encouragement and forgiveness lives on in those he knew and loved makes celebration very appropriate. 

Ernest William Morley (Bill)  b. 10/01/1919  d. 06/03/2000

 I shall be raising a glass of local Pineau to you today, dad, from our lovely little house in rural France.  I know you would have adored this place.  You would have savoured the beauty of the landscape, enjoyed the richness of the local dialect and delighted in sampling the regional wines and cuisine.  You gave me my love of France from your own rich experience, and I know that under different circumstances you would have loved to be living here yourself. 

 Your paintings, both of French and of English Lake District landscapes take pride of place on family walls.  I only wish I had inherited your artistic talent to capture some of our local views, but I have to make do with my digital camera.  I wonder what you would have made of that technical innovation.  I suspect you would have embraced it enthusiastically as you did most things in life.

 What of the rest of today’s changed world?  I think you would continue to curse politicians for their inability to turn rhetoric into reality.  I remember how you re-joined the Labour Party after Tony Blair took the leadership – and how quickly you were disappointed by the whole sham and tore up your membership.  I remember how you despaired at George Bush senior’s aggression in the Middle East.  You didn’t live to see his moronic son mount an invasion of Iraq and put the world deeper at risk of war than ever.  Maybe that is some kind of a blessing.  It would have made you deeply sad and angry.  I think you would have laughed and cheered with me when the shoes flew at his last Iraq press conference – but the laughter sadly would have been short lived.

 In politics as in life, Dad, you always stood up straight and proud for what you believed to be right.  Most of the time we agreed, but even when we didn’t I never failed to admire you for your courage and your determination to do whatever little you could to make life better for those around you.  You’re a very hard act to follow, Dad, but a tremendous influence.  If I can manage to leave just a half of your legacy when my time comes I’ll be very satisfied.