Chiming

It's the anniversary of Mum's death today, so, as is my wont, I've been thinking of her & Dad & my dead in general - thoughts of one lead to thoughts of all inevitably, naturally. Realised with some surprise that it's now a whole 7 years since she left us to be gathered into eternity. She'd have been 100 if she'd have lived until today.

Also realised, again with real surprise, that when I considered the extensive list of my dead that I couldn't think of anyone on it that I disliked in any obvious way. Another example of the luck I've enjoyed in the course of my life. If we see ourselves as being surrounded by ghosts as we grow old then mine are all of the beneficent variety. Not a monster in sight.

In relation to all this, I thought a bit today about some shtick I listened to from a recording of Springsteen's Broadway shows - think I heard it on the flight from Bangkok. It's towards the end of the show and The Boss is ruminating on meeting with his dead - Danny, Clarence & other New Jersey luminaries - and communing with them. I liked the idea, I must say. A lovely metaphor and literal enough to be a little bit crazy, as we all need to be.

I know what I'd be saying to Mum - the routine update on my life, carefully framed to make sure all sounded well. And then strangely I got to thinking about a photograph from my university days I was recently sent. It features 3 scruffy sods, of which I am one, and the others are long gone (too soon, too soon.) I wondered what I'd say to David (Hay) and Tony if they were to visit and knew that I'd comment on how often we'd been privileged to hear the chimes at midnight. Judging from the expressions in the picture in question I'd guess that was taken on an occasion when the chimes weren't too far off.