written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Saturday 4 July 2020

Families

Grandparents figure large in many people's lives. Not mine, sadly. My paternal grandparents were dead before ever I was conceived and my maternal grandmother died while I was still a babe in arms; and so I only have a memory of my other grandfather, my Mum's Dad - a tattooed and cheery old white-haired fellow. But he was gone before my fifth birthday arrived and neither of my younger brothers has even that little shred of a memory of him. Grandparents have been conspicuous by their absence, one might say, in our lives, and possibly to our detriment as a balanced and rounded family.

We had aunts and uncles, because my mother had four siblings and my father one. My mother's brothers and sisters all married and so there were cousins as well; my father's brother Norman never did.

Mum died way back in 1989 and Dad just over a decade ago. Most of the aunts and uncles have gone the way of all flesh as well. Only Norman survives from that generation, now in his nineties and with full-blown dementia, in a residential care home in Blackpool where I can keep a watchful eye on his well-being. This blog is going to be about my uncle. He's pictured here in his twenties, thirties and forties in passport photo form. Strangely, I know more about him now than he knows about himself.

For the most part, my Mum and Dad were straight-laced and overly serious. There was never a lot of fun in the Rowland  household. We'd observe other families having fun, joking and teasing each other, parents and children alike. It didn't happen in our home as a rule, more's the pity. Consequently the occasional arrival of our favourite Uncle Norman was greeted by us children as light relief. He was witty and unconventional, enjoyed joking and teasing, and had a certain flair about him, though he was never flamboyant.  In marked contrast to Mum and Dad, we figured Norman knew how to have fun!

Of course we questioned our parents about why Norman was always on his own when he visited us or we visited him, and why he didn't have a wife and kids like all of our other relations. My parents gave two stock responses. One was that Norman hadn't met the right woman yet, the other was that he preferred his own company, liked being a bachelor (as it was termed). I think we found the 'prefers his own company' line a bit disingenuous, given that the only time our house felt like party central was when Norman was visiting.

He studied French and Russian at university after the war and then became a schoolmaster teaching French, once he'd completed national service. He was also keen on art, ballroom dancing and interior design. I believe my Dad thought Norman was frivolous and Mum labelled him fanciful. He liked musicals and theatre and wine and French cars. He would tell us of how he tried to grow purple daffodils by encasing the bulbs in beetroots before planting them and he always professed his favourite colour to be 'sky blue pink'.


I think we realised what the score was by the time we kids were in our mid-teens, not that it made any difference to us or our relationship with Norman. In hindsight, life must have been difficult for him in those years, given that homosexuality was illegal until 1967. We never talked about it with our parents or with Norman. The whole subject was left unspoken and that's the way it has stayed.

Norman gave up his teaching career at the end of the 1960s, though he is fondly remembered half a century on by some ex-pupils who still write to him (even though he can no longer remember them). His second, and longer career was in the art world.  He opened an art gallery, selling original works by contemporary British artists - paintings, lithographs, ceramics, jewellery and sculpture. I bought several paintings from him. His business did very well, he made a good living from it and enjoyed life to the full. He was particularly fond of throwing tea parties. My wife, daughters and I used to get invited to fancy teas. I wondered sometimes if he missed having children of his own and we became something of an extended family for him.

He certainly had boyfriends, though he kept his personal life discreet, never referred to it, and we never met any of them. There was even a lady friend at one point who we did meet (to our surprise), but she made demands on him that he was unable or unwilling to fulfil. So it goes.

After he sold his business and retired, I think he was preyed on by men who were happy to take advantage of his inclinations and his good nature. He became a victim of conmen and scams and eventually turned to us, his nephews, to help sort the mess out. We have had power of attorney on his behalf for several years and as I said above, he is now in a residential care home because of his advanced dementia. At least he is safe there. Although I've not been able to see him for several months because of Covid-19, on the plus side he's been totally oblivious to all that has been going on.

I thought I'd try and capture the essence of that unspokenness in a poem this week. I'd call it a work-in-progress, so subject to revision if I figure out how to improve upon it.

Left Unspoken
When we were young, we wondered
why doesn't Uncle Norman have a wife?
All our other aunts and uncles came
as pairs, with kids in tow for us to play
football or walk the plank with. Not him.

Not that he wasn't fun.
Just different and always alone.

Whenever we asked our parents, they said
he hasn't met the right woman for him yet.
And though the clues were there to see,
his favourite colour was 'sky blue pink',
it never occurred to us to think that through.

Of course he was still fun.
Just different and always alone.

And even when we knew for sure, still
nothing was ever said or acknowledged,
as though for my parents the fact was
far too indelicate to admit. I don't know
that they ever accepted it. Tough for him.

Just different and always alone.

Thanks for reading. Be broad-minded, be caring, be kind. S ;-)

27 comments:

Pam Winning said...

I've loved every word of this and what shines through is your fondness of Norman. I can imagine his visits to your family and how pleased you welcomed his company. He sounds like he was great fun to have around and clever, too. Dementia is the worse thing I have witnessed in a family member. They are fine but it can be soul destroying for everyone else. Thank you for sharing memories of your lovely uncle. He is blessed, he has you looking out for him. Pam Winning 🙂

Sheilagh Dyson said...

What a lovely affectionate portrait of a very interesting person. Hope you get to see him soon Steve.

Jill Reidy said...

I loved this, Steve. I find it fascinating to hear about other people’s families. I also had an uncle who was probably gay - although, like you, it didn’t occur to me till years later. As you say, it must have been so difficult in those days when the act was illegal. Great read - and you look SO like Uncle Norman xx

KathCurt said...

Families ?! My mother and I had a grand relationship until I was 18.. then it all changed. My parents regularly disowned me..I married the wrong man....I moved away....etc. This went on for several years . When I met my second husband initially they seemed happy enough..I moved back to Scotland thinking we'd be close. That didn't work...my mother made nasty comments, questioned our lifestyle...it came down to money, I'm afraid. So Terry put his foot down...my father wrote me a nasty letter.i was finally disowned aged 43. My mother is dead, but me father still alive. My son maintains contact.
I have found friends to be more important.....

Adele said...

He is a dear old soul and his dementia such a tragedy. This is a lovely tribute Steve.

Nigella D said...

Beautifully expressed and very moving.

Anonymous said...

We all only get one shot at life. You'd think we'd appreciate it and each other more than we do!

billgrams said...

Very touching tribute to a man who's life could have been so much better if lived out in the open but the law prevented him and that was the crime. Great write.

Kieran Heaney said...

Amazing Steve

Celia M said...

I love the blog and I can sense that the poem doesn't yet say what you want to say in the way you want to say it. You're the poet though, so you'll figure it out. I wish I could be as eloquent.

Binty said...

My mum and dad split up when I was at university. Actually my mum moved out to go and live with another woman. It was traumatic for us all and years before we came to terms with it properly. In an earlier age she would have stayed and been unhappy. Your blog was a treat to read, as ever.

Deke Hughes said...

A sensitive handling of what used to be a very tricky subject. Thankfully the world has both loosened and wised up. I hope you get to visit your uncle again soon. Lockdown must be nearly done, surely.

Jeanie Buckingham said...

I think it was meant as a loving tribute but do we identify people by the fact that their favourite colour is/ was sky blue pink ... but I like the fact that you put it on here a nice way to remember him ...

Jen McDonagh said...

Your uncle sounds like a lovely man. What a sad state of affairs that hh had to be covert about his real affections. Your poem is very poignant.

Mark Donnelly said...

Superb Steve, I lost my mother to dementia, two years ago at the young of 67.
I think,if Norman was reading your blog, he'd be smiling with pride.

Lizzie Fentiman said...

I've read blogs and poems about your uncle's dementia but I don't recall anything touching on his sexuality. I can imagine why your parents gave you stock answers when you were kids but to go through life pretending something was not what it was must have put a strain on relationships.Tough for him, as you say. I liked the poem - and the way you dropped any reference to him being fun from the third iteration of the couplet. Nice one Steve.

Chris Tait said...

I really enjoyed reading about Norman and he sounds like a very interesting man.

Debbie Laing said...

That's a lovely, compassionate piece.

Anonymous said...

What a great read. Maybe too late for your uncle but thankfully times have changed in the last few decades.

Simon Pickford said...

Well done Steve. That's so well put together. The poem works for me.

Miriam Fife said...

Beautifully expressed, as ever. I hope you get to see your uncle soon.

Unknown said...

You've captured the character of you uncle beautifully in both the poem and the passage. I think as a society we should be doing much more to celebrate old age in all its many guises. A touching tribute.

Kylie Davenport said...

Bless him. That's both sad to read and inspiring too.

Francesca Marrone said...

Very sympathetic.

Anonymous said...

An engrossing read and a lovely poem.

Beth Randle said...

I tried to mark your lovely blog as interesting and poetic - bit it wouldn't let me. I've not had that problem before. Has something changed?

Guy Lambert said...

I'm pleased you wrote that your uncle enjoyed life to the full. Having a family of one's own (i.e. partner and children) isn't the be-all-and-end-all of a happy time on earth :)