Father's Day | Memories of Dad

Making sandcastles with dad

My father died when I was 20, over 36 years ago. I have many memories though. What follows is a extract from a book focusing on his and my late husband's lives as they connected with mine. 

'Some of my earliest memories are of sitting on my dad’s knee with my thumb in my mouth, riding on his shoulders as we played together and being tickled so much I worried that I would wet myself. I remember searching for fairies with him at the bottom of my parents’ bed and taking a young friend back to my house even though he fell over outside his own because ‘my dad is good with sore knees’. He became the street’s unofficial doctor after that and his treatment always included funny stories as well as plasters and antiseptic. . . . . My mum told me that he laughed when as a baby I peed all down his back, and even managed a smile the time I was sick on his head after he threw me up in the air too soon after tea. I remember him patiently spending the whole of his lunch hour from the factory gently attempting to remove the saucepan that I had stuck on my head and then dancing round the living room with my feet on top of his.. . . [I]  still cherish the Valentine’s card that he sent me (anonymously) the year after the friend I walked to school with got a dozen and I got none (I only found out he sent it a decade or so ago).' (Letherby, G. 2014 He, Himself and I: reflections on inter/connected lives Nottingham: Auto/Biography Study Group p20).

Trains, Boats and Batmobiles | Vehicles and Ceremonies

I am rather fond of trains which is lucky as they have, and continue. to feature quite significantly in my life. As a non-driving child of non-driving adventurous parents I've always travelled a lot by train. We left Liverpool, the place of all our births when I was seven and moved a number of times until settling in Cornwall four years later. For a while we lived in a flat in South Queensferry, outside of Edinburgh, overlooking the Firth of Forth railway bridge and then there was the night we spent in a railway carriage in an otherwise deserted London railway station (but that's another story). 

My first solo train journey was a trip from Falmouth to Liverpool to stay with my maternal grandmother and aunt and uncle for half term week during my O'Level year and since then I have travelled many, many thousands of miles by rail. A few years ago I was lucky enough to be able to spend some of my work time researching and writing about one of my passions. With my friend and colleague Gillian Reynolds I published a number of pieces focusing on sociological aspects of travel including a book entitled Train Tracks: work, play and politics on the railways (2005). 

After interviewing over a 100 train travellers, workers and enthusiasts (in addition to reflecting on our own experience) we were able to clearly demonstrate that trains are not just vehicles that get us from A to B but also places and spaces in their own right - where people play, work, eat, sleep, fall in love . . .. Despite delays, 'standing room only' and carriage doors that close before you're through them it seems many of us still have an affection for the train and the railway. This is reflected, we suggested, in cultural representations  from Night Mail https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zmciuKsBOi0   to Thomas the Tank Engine, from The Railway Children to Grand Central Station and so on and so on. 

- See more at: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Train-Tracks-Work-Politics-Railways/dp/1845200837

Within a ceremony a train (or other vehicle) can again be more than just something that gets everyone from A to B, not that transport isn't significant at such events. Trains* if you like them as much as I do, could play a variety of parts in your ceremony. How about a 19th or 20th  Century themed wedding or commitment ceremony that takes place on a steam train or at a railway museum  accompanied, or not, by 'British Rail' sandwiches? Or similar for a trip down memory lane focused renewal of vows ceremony. What better than a magical Harry Potter style naming ceremony, with a re-enacted journey to Hogwarts mirroring the excitement of a new life journey? In planning a funeral ceremony for a loved one, or for yourself, you might want to consider a bespoke coffin or urn or hold a memorial ceremony at the end of Platform 2. 

Just remember; your ceremony, your choice. 

* For train of course you can substitute horse pulled caravan,  London bus, Starship Enterprise, Batmobile. Need I go on? 

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Reflections on the Pink Army | Metaphors and Meanings

My Race for Life tattoo and finishing medal 

A couple of weeks ago I took part in the Falmouth Race for Life event (see Blog entry 15/02/2015 for previous mention of this). As ever I was struck by how emotional the experience was and I beat my best time (just) arriving at the finish line after completing the 5K route in just over 40 minutes.

This year's theme for R4L is a military one. The running, jogging, walking women - along with their children, dogs, prams - are collectively referred to as the 'Pink Army' and each runner is issued with a pink glove and a number of temporary tattoos (I must admit to missing mine somewhat when the last traces were washed away five days after the race). This year's finishers' medals are fashioned in the form of a dog tag.

Me and other members of the 'pink army'

I have mixed feelings about both the colour (I like pink, I do, but it really isn't the only colour that women wear . . . ) and  the military metaphor. It seems I'm not alone in this for as noted in a recent post by @mosaicscience there has been much written in the last 40 plus years by people with cancer and other diseases arguing against  warfare metaphors. And yet it seems that although there are many that dislike their body being compared to a battleground, and prefer to speak of 'journeys' or 'pathways' rather than 'fights' and 'battles', there are many others who feel empowered in thinking that they are 'keeping up the fight' or in being described as 'a trooper'.

Like me (see Blog entries 05/04/15 and 11/04/15) Mosaic:the science of life suggest that metaphors are useful and help us through difficult times such as illness, loss and grief and different metaphors work for different people. The thing to remember is the need to be sensitive too what works for others as well as what works for you.

Ohh and  in case anyone is wondering I didn't get around to ironing the T-shirt. . . .

Stuck for a Venue? | Maybe Falmouth is the Answer

Falmouth is looking especially beautiful today.

A seaside naming ceremony?

What a wonderful place for a ceremony.

'Proper Job.'

An alternative aisle for a wedding or commitment ceremony?

A memorial ceremony within castle (can you see it) grounds? 

A Poem Fit for a Ceremony | Readings for Weddings, Commitment and Renewal of Vows Ceremonies

I bought a book of suggested wedding poetry recently. Of course these are relevant for commitment and renewal of vows ceremonies also. It contains some of my favourites but not all of them. Here are a couple of examples of poems I particularly like that feel appropriate for this kind of occasion:

I Would Live in Your Love by Sara Teasdale

I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea,
Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave that recedes;

I would empty my soul of the dreams that have gathered in me,

I would beat with your heart as it beats, I would follow your soul as it leads.

A Birthday by Christina Rossetti

 My heart is like a singing bird

                  Whose nest is in a water'd shoot;

My heart is like an apple-tree

                  Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;

My heart is like a rainbow shell

                  That paddles in a halcyon sea;

My heart is gladder than all these

                  Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a dais of silk and down;

                  Hang it with vair and purple dyes;

Carve it in doves and pomegranates,

                  And peacocks with a hundred eyes;

Work it in gold and silver grapes,

                  In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;

Because the birthday of my life

                  Is come, my love is come to me.


I also really love: 

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in) by E. E. Cummings which although popular at weddings and similar ceremonies, is I think, also appropriate for a funeral or memorial ceremony.

Vow by Roger McGough

Vow by Clare Shaw

Unlike my fist two examples these latter choices are still in copyright which means I am unable to publish these without permission. If you chose Arwenack Celebrants to prepare and facilitate your ceremony we will provide you with a Ceremony Transcript following your special day. If any of your chosen poems and readings need copyright permission we will obtain this. To look for your own favourite poems or perhaps find some new ones try:

Penguin’s Poems for Weddings Selected by Laura Barber (2014)

OR http://www.theguardian.com/books/2011/apr/23/wedding-carol-ann-duffy-poetry

****

If you can’t find anything that you like you can write your own or ask a friend or family member to write one for you. My friend Thom wrote and read a poem for the wedding of one of his friend’s recently. This is how it begins:

Love is made of stuff.
Happy stuff.
Silly stuff.
Cute stuff.
Awwww stuff.
Angry stuff.
And compromising.

It starts with one person, and ends up with two,
And they do this thing where they gather everyone they know,
Well, everyone they like,
And they put them all in one room,
Dressed in best,
To witness them shouting out loud,
‘We are in love!’

There is standing; there is sitting,
And then there is CAKE!. . .

From And then there is cake . . . by T. S. E. Boulton. See Thom’s website for the full version and other examples http://ceremonial.weebly.com/readings





Purple Ronnie is another great source. There are several books for sale but also some free poems available via Google or Pinternet. Just a couple of examples follow: 

Bereavement and Grief (3) | More Swimming

Like many other adults I enjoy the wit and humour that often appears in ‘children’s films’. Finding Nemo is a particular favourite of mine; so much so that close friends regularly buy me FN related gifts. Here is just a small selection of my collection. 

The broach was made for me especially by my friend Ali (Alison Bendall Jewellery  http://alisonbendall.co.uk/)

For those of you who sadly don’t know the story as yet here is a synopsis:

Nemo is a young clown fish who lives on the Great Barrier Reef. He is the only son of Marlin, an anxious father who constantly warns Nemo of the ocean’s many dangers. Following an act of rebellion Nemo is caught in a net by a dentist who dives for a hobby and ends up in a fish tank in his surgery, overlooking Sydney Harbour. Marlin sets out to find Nemo and shortly into his journey he meets a female blue tang called Dory who suffers from short-term memory loss. She can read though and after memorising, as best she can, the dentist’s name and address on his discarded face mask she travels with Marlin and the two have many adventures - including encounters with sharks, turtles, angler fish and a whale - along the way. In the meantime Nemo and his fish tank companions attempt a number of escapes from the tank to the harbour. All’s well that ends well and despite innumerable problems father and son are reunited, with much help from Dory and others that they meet. Nemo, Marlin and Dory return to the Reef where Marlin attempts to mute his parental protectiveness. 

I first saw the film on a work trip to Australia in a hotel room in Sydney (honestly).

When encouraging Marlin to carry on in his quest to find Nemo Dory, the hero of the tale as far as I’m concerned, entreats him to ‘just keep swimming’. It isn’t just my love of swimming and the benefit I get from it that draws me to Dory’s advice but also the implication that to keep swimming, to keep going, is beneficial, for me at least, (see my reference to ‘occupation’ in my last Blog entry). I am aware that just keep swimming could be perceived to be and/or experienced as a platitude, so I could be accused of contradicting my recent arguments here. And yet to me Dory’s words feel more like a metaphor; more than a metaphor, as I swim my way to emotional and physical wellbeing. More evidence I guess of how grief is a unique experience for all of us.. . .

Dory

If like me you can’t wait for the long awaited sequel Finding Dory watch this trailer by Ellen DeGeneres (the voice of Dory). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_JJmDavBXrw 

Bereavement and Grief (2) | Platitudes, Metaphors and Swimming

As I suggested in my most previous Blog entry platitudes following bereavement are often unhelpful but metaphors (figures of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action which is not literally applicable) are useful for some people. I have heard grief described as being like a punch in the stomach or a series of waves washing over a person. I can relate to each of these examples. Recently I read an account by a woman who described her own experience of grief as riding a wave. This makes sense to me too although I can’t imagine ever being able to stay upright on a surfboard, and I’ve tried body boarding and I’m pretty useless at it, so it’s not appropriate for me in the way it clearly is for her. For me grief is like walking up a steep hill, it is hard going and the pinnacle seems far way: the walk is tough. Sometimes you slip back, sometimes you need to rest, sometimes you are not sure you’ll make it to the top, sometimes you feel sure you will; eventually. This works for me but it might not for others.



Although I’m no surfer I do like to swim (I swim for at least an hour, often longer, four or five times a week googling to find a pool when I am away from home) and swimming, alongside other physical exercise (as a non-driver I walk a lot and a little later in life than some I’ve discovered that I enjoy Spinning (a gym-based cycling class that takes place to music) and BodyPump (a weight based class, again with musical accompaniment)), has also helped me emotionally and psychologically, as well as physically. I am not the only one, as these two articles - Sweating Out the Sadness: can exercise help you to grieve?http://dailyburn.com/life/lifestyle/exercise-coping-with-grief-sadness/
and Sweating Out Sadness: How Exercise Can Help the Grieving Process http://fitness.mercola.com/sites/fitness/archive/2014/06/27/exercise-grief.aspx - demonstrate.

The author of the second piece reports that exercise not only helps the body it also helps the mind; the focus needed leads to a sense of control and exercisers report that they feel less anxious and sleep better. Exercise increases circulation and blood flow throughout the body and improvements to the immune system mean the individual has a better chance of fighting an illness before it spreads. For many there is a reduction in the aches and pains, loss of appetite, headaches, fatigue and so on often experienced during the grieving process. My own experience of bereavement brought home to me the impact that such loss can have on one’s body as soon after I suffered from a number of (ill)heath conditions. This takes me back to swimming (more of this next time) although of course swimming (and other exercise) is only one form of occupation that the bereaved might find both challenging and helpful. As Steve Hoppes’ (2005) experience suggests occupations (using the term broadly and not merely in relation to paid work) may lose meaning when one is grieving but paradoxically occupation can help in regaining meaning in life and in general health and wellbeing. I agree. 

Hoppes, Steve (2005) ‘When a child dies the world should stop spinning: an autoethnography exploring the impact of family loss on occupation’ American Journal of Occupational Therapy 59(1):78-87.