The Original Letters - 2004

A continuation of the series of essays that are the Letters To My Grandchildren's Grandchildren. This piece was written in 2004.

At this time, I am 52 and have seen many amazing developments in my life. The PC that I am typing this on is a Pentium, with a hard disk of 7 GB and a 17” screen. The chances are, you will only have heard of these in History lessons. As little as 10 years ago, such computer facilities in the home would have been a dream to all but the select few who were working on making the architecture a reality. 20 years ago, PCs were unknown. Now we have the Internet, an expanding Universe of Information. We also are entering the world of mobile phones that access the Internet, although why anyone would want to examine such oceans of information on a screen that is 3.5 cms by 2.5 cms is a puzzle to challenge Zen Philosophers.

31 years ago, man first stepped onto the surface of the moon. That was an amazing moment. Space travel was in its infancy. We had had Sputniks and Voyagers and HG Wells describing a very believable War of the Worlds, yet Neil Armstrong claimed a pioneering first that was hard to believe as we witnessed it and will be hard to equal as a monumental event.

Incidentally, there is a Conspiracy Theory argument that says that moon landing was faked by the Americans to steal a march on the Russians. Through the latter half of this century there was a great battle between these two mighty nations to show supremacy in the contest to achieve great things in space. A TV programme examining the photo evidence of the landing provided all kinds of arguments to suggest that it was staged in a studio; shadows and lighting where there should have been no light, depths of footprints in the moon’s dust, an American flag fluttering which should have been limp due to the absence of breeze. Who knows how much of this is true?

Conspiracy Theory is a popular pastime nowadays. The deaths of John F Kennedy, his assassin Lee Harvey Oswald, Robert Kennedy, his brother, John Lennon and Princess Diana - all attracted theories of dark deeds by government agencies. I have no view one way or the other. I don’t suppose the truth of this will ever come out in my lifetime. I live in a world where secrets are important and many people believe that secrets can be kept. My view is that the truth will out – eventually, maybe sooner, maybe later, but it will always come out.

Religious, political and commercial leaders, go to great lengths to do things for the sake of appearances, believing that people will be fooled by those appearances. There is a phrase today – “You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can’t fool all of the people all of the time.”

Unfortunately, our leaders are not chosen for their ability to lead, nor for their knowledge of people and how to handle them. They are chosen principally for their educational achievement and their inclination towards sycophancy on the way up; something that leaves them badly-prepared for the job of leading. I’m sure the world will correct this when the time is right.

Pop music came into being in the late 50s and then took off in the early 60s. A musical phenomenon known as the Beatles helped to further the cause while inspiring thousands of aspiring musicians to play instruments, primarily the guitar, and write words and music to thrill the masses.

The Berlin Wall was destroyed in 1988 and around that time, dictators that had known absolute power were deposed by the will of the people. Ceausescu, Romanescu, Hoeneker, Pinochet, Marcos and lesser leaders, all metamorphosed from a god-like status to become frail and frightened old men. Although this was heartening to see, new dictators continue to rise and the process continues.

Many political developments have taken place and intriguing new situations arise regularly. Drugs have come into common use as people seek instant pleasure rather than examine that which is already around them just waiting to be sampled; conversation, humour and friendship.

I will try and give you a little more on each of the historical matters glossed over above. They are only mentioned in this opening as illustrations. For now, let’s start with behavioural aspects listed in the previous paragraph.

Forgetfulness

I put a poem on here this morning, only to find that it was already in an earlier post, so here is another in its place. This is Bobo's Story. It was written for Lauren, aged 8. Lauren will be 30 soon.

Bobo was a funny clown, his hair went up and his trousers down,

With feet so big that they'd trip him up, and he'd spill the tea from his favourite cup.

He had a red and bulbous nose, and lovely, brightly coloured clothes,

But best of all - was his warm, kind heart, which loved to hear the children laugh.

So when he died at seventy seven, Bobo's heart went straight to Heaven.

The angels came to him and asked, if he'd perform a simple task.

To put on just a little show, for all the children who had no

Mummy or Daddy - cause they'd died, before their time. And Bobo cried.

Then he donned his loudest vest, his brightest smile - the very best,

He acted silly, acted daft, just to make the children laugh.

The laughter ringing in his ears, soothed away his earlier tears.

There on Heaven's cloud-top floor, he made the children laugh once more.

God saw this and He was pleased, with Bobo's kind, unselfish deed,

Then He called him to His side, and promised he'd no longer cry.

Bobo said, "Sir, if you please, such a gift is - Gift Indeed,

But my tears are Joy to me, they help me know that I can feel.

So even when their cause is sad, their silent kiss is not all  bad.

Please, Kind Sir, if You'll permit? I'd like to let them stay and sit,

At the table, with my heart, the two should not be asked to part."

God considered this awhile, then, to Bobo, with a smile,

Said "I will choose another  way to thank you for your deed today."

His voice became as Thunder sounds, to the angels gathered round,

"Angels of my Heavenly Court, I have dwelt on this and thought,

Witness all, who gather here, Bobo will retain his tears.

His feelings will be incomplete, without their wetness on his cheeks.

So I give him, come what may, The sound that he adores,

Bobo - you'll hear every day, children's laughter, evermore."

Bobo said, "Thank you" - very quietly.

And the tears in his eyes were tears of Joy.

Adding Poetry

It is time to add poetry to this site. As I have expanded the content from its original intent, this is just another movement in another direction.

The owl sat on the dripping branch, a sad and sorry sight,

Completely drenched by a cloud’s full voice, on a wet and stormy night.

When, as the dark clouds gathered, threatening, full and taut,

He settled in a warm, safe tree, at least, that’s what he thought.

Then when the heavens opened, a smug smile crossed his beak,

But lasting glee, wasn’t to be, the tree started to leak.

At first there was a drip or two, but with a growing roar,

It grew and grew, until the few, led to a good deal more.

Because the rain distracted him, he didn’t see his mate,

Snuggle up beside him, until it was too late.

He hadn’t really paid much heed, and missed his partner’s words,

Until she nibbled at his ear, and this is what he heard.

"Would you like an early night?", the siren softly cooed,

It seemed she had something in mind, that could get pretty rude.

He looked at her, she looked at him, there was no room for doubt,
She had a look upon her face, that showed she had it all worked out.

Some bubbly and some sautéed vole, a little hors d’oeuvre treat,

Wagnerian music from the skies, all that should sweep him off his feet.

He saw the line she had in mind, he saw where it would lead,
To fluttering wings and eyelids, to dark and secret deeds.

And as the rain relentlessly, beat down in hissing sheets,

He mused and dripped and dwelt upon, this unexpected treat.

He dwelt for a brief moment, he dripped a good deal longer,

The lightning flashed, the thunder crashed, the rain grew ever-stronger.

He shuffled closer to his love, her ardour drew him near,

He turned his head, ninety degrees, and whispered in her ear.

"I want you really badly, I truly, truly do,

But what with all this pouring rain, it's just - too wet to woo."

1st July 2012

As you know, I like to ponder things, explore beneath the surface to see why they are as they are and not just accept that ‘they are’. From the last few mails, you will have seen that I now have plenty of time to indulge in this luxury; time to think, wonder and just plain daydream. The issue under internal debate within the D’Abreo mind at the moment is, “Why are we top of the food chain?” and “Do we deserve to be?”

             When I look at the unthinking adoration of cheap celebrity, or people being led by the nose by inaccurate newspaper articles designed to shock and titillate before they inform, or at cheap TV offerings gobbled up readily by an undemanding public, I am dismayed. Programmes like Big Brother, soaps and dance or talent competitions featuring scripted Good Cop/Bad Cop judges simply trying to provoke “Ooh!”s and “Ah”s from a gullible public, lead me to conclude that whales and dolphins have had a rough deal.

            To be fair, it is only us judging ourselves to be at the top of the Food Chain. Put a bloke in a room with a hungry lion, tiger or polar bear, and I can only see one outcome. But then, looking deeper at the complexity that we deal with in our lives, via tortuous logic, it all makes sense. We are deservedly top. As ever, before I explain how I reach such a conclusion, I have to present the foundations that lay beneath my thinking.

            In looking around my circle of friends, I realise that many of you are unaware of each other. In Brenworld, you’re all in largely independent boxes, for example, the friends from Ford Internal Audit days. These are guys that I regarded as brothers when we were on an audit somewhere around Europe, in each other’s pockets from Monday to Friday, week in, week out - and then by our own choice, socially at weekends too. That was the early 80s and many are still in touch. When we get together now, it is as though it was only yesterday that we last met.

            Similarly, the Ford of Europe Accounting years yielded the same. Travelling around Europe launching systems, training users, trying new restaurants and wines, in each other’s pocket from Monday to Friday and then socialising at weekends too. Now 30 years later, so many of those colleagues are still friends, if anything even closer than in those happily-remembered times.

            In recent years, other bonds developed. My dear friends John & Annie Pearson with whom I have a natural affinity of mind and spirit find ourselves able to cover 20 subjects in any conversation, and still have a new conversation each time we meet. It seems there is no bottom to this box of discoveries. Add to that, the guys that became Brothers In Arms in Trafford House, Lodgie, Morgy, Micky Flynn, Ernie and Johnny Parrot, who will be here to explore the social dimensions of Spalding this weekend. They are here for one night only. That’s all it’ll take. Spalding is not overburdened with night-life hot spots.

            Then there are the ex-girlfriends who became friends after the boyfriend/girlfriend thing evaporated. Friends like Mila, married now and living in Portugal. A girlfriend briefly and still a friend some 20 years later. Or Lucília, with whom I fought repeatedly in those Autoeuropa days of the mid-90s. We established a friendship anyway, and now exchange Christmas Cards and share lunches whenever we can meet. Staying with Portugal, there are also  workmates from those days, people from the Portuguese Accounting Centre, where I was based initially - João Mattos and Paul & Ruth Underhill, plus Marie-Paule with whom I worked at Autoeuropa in Palmella, all of which are still in touch. Then, my Retiree Lunch mates from Ford, my golfing mates who go back 35 years and my schoolmates who go back 55 years - and yet more small groups who are a major part of my life who fall into categories not mentioned in this reflection.

             This litany of friends is just to illustrate that - I have many friends (people I think of as friends), who are unaware of each other’s existence and importance in my life. But (and at long last we get to the point), this is not just me; it is the same for each of you too. This for me, is illustrative of what sets us apart from other intelligent life forms - why we are top of the food chain - we are able to maintain complex relationships, and as a by-product, complex understandings of life experiences.

I am lucky enough to have friends from all walks of life. These friendships have varied from cleaners and shop assistants to an ambassador’s wife, from a ship-shoveller to CEOs. Yes, I knew a bloke 40 years ago who worked at Basildon Sewage Treatment plant doing a deeply unpleasant job. He had my respect and admiration, doing what he did for a living despite its lowly status, so that he could have the dignity of working for a living, unlike today’s spongers who think some jobs are below them and benefits are a human right; the right to sponge off others if you can get away with it. With all these disparate characters, it was their personality, conversation and attitude to life that precipitated the chemistry that led to our friendship.

            One of the most intelligent people I have met was a taxi driver that looked like Trigger from Only Fools and Horses. He had a gorblimey accent, pop-star scruffy denim jeans and jacket with popped collar, was unshaven, with unkempt hair even before the days that this became a fashion, and probably the best read and most articulate man I have ever met. Heaven Knows, some of you have voracious reading habits with matching retention and recall, but this guy was another Fred Housego, able to talk on a comprehensive diversity of topics with the relaxed assurance of one who is confident in his knowledge and who displayed an absence of the bluster and vague generalisations that reveal superficial understanding.

            I’m sure you all have such a broad spectrum in your circle of friends. But the complexities that we have to deal with in day-to-day life go further than juggling a rich mix of friends. What about the current affairs that we are expected to absorb and comprehend? One banking scandal after another, MPs squabbling and misrepresenting their cases for and against austerity, variable VAT on pasties depending on ambient temperature - and will the Eurozone implode into a creeping  desert of anarchy, or will we get sucked into the whirlpool of a United State of Europe and have to give up our sovereignty? Follow that with a pitiful performance in the European Championships, now the drama that is Wimbledon with big names tumbling every day, and soon, the drug-fest of the Olympics. How can we cope with all of these attention-seeking children? And the answer is… we can - and so are (rightly), atop the food chain, taking it all in our stride.

            At the weekend, I had a stroke of luck. I found the cable for my iPod Shuffle. I have two such cables but for a long while could find neither to charge the obstinately silent device, now though, charging was back amongst the options. Once recharged, I loaded some favourite albums to iTunes and Synced the Shuffle. Cool talk eh? Sounds like I’m Street. Well sick, innit Blood?

            With this new reservoir of music, I now use it in the gym to provide distraction from the strain of  restoring this failing frame to a working state. However, I noticed today that there are a number of  changes in the 20 years that have passed. Then, it was a lumpy cassette player and headphones pumping out ZZ Top’s Sharp Dressed Man, now it is a book of matches and the wondrous clarity of noise-insulating ear buds, with Eva Cassidy proclaiming the virtues of Fields of Gold. Aaron Neville supported Eva with his Soul version of People Get Ready and what sounded uncannily like Kenny G doing the fills - stirring, motivational gym music. Does life get any better?

            We broke off halfway through today’s session to close the gym for 15 minutes. No, not for a fire drill but to cheer the Olympic Torch as it passed through Spalding - an historical occasion. I took a camera and got a short movie clip which due to my shakes was somewhat less impressive than I’d hoped. However, you can make out the lighting of the new torch once the Bluto-sized security guard got out of the way. It was all over in the Eagles’ proverbial New York Minute. (A New York minute is an instant. Or as Johnny Carson once said, it's the interval between a Manhattan traffic light turning green and the guy behind you honking his horn.)

            The quote above is taken from the Internet. What a useful source of useless information that is. Talking of quotes, after leaving the gym, I felt the need to pore over The Times to see what Bob Diamond had been up to and what he was expected to reveal at today’s hearing. I pored, as planned, in a coffee shop with a cappuccino and a bit of cake served to me by a delightful young lady with a bright smile. Yes, young enough to be my granddaughter, hence delightful, with what seemed to be scribbled aide memoire on her forearm. It turned out to be a tattoo. I asked her about it as I couldn’t read the scribble. She was a confident child of about 20 and informed me that it said "Beneath the makeup and behind the smile I am just a girl who wishes for the world." (a Marilyn Monroe quote). From the confident ease of her reply, I believe she meant it. How uplifting. I wonder - at what point in our lives do we lose that optimism, that spirit of adventure, that lust for life, that sense of immortality - and settle for what life delivers? Why is such ambition the province of the young?

            And now I am guided by the direction of this incident, to reflect on my life. In looking back 20 years, I see I had a soul mate. I had gone 40 years without one - and now have gone 20 more. Despite being married and living on and off with some exceptional ladies, and having had (and still have today), some very close friends - of the opposite sex, there were no soul mates till Stephanie. That lasted a year but it was a novel buzz; one I have not repeated. In my experience, it is a rare gift, bestowed on few. If you connect with someone at a spiritual level, well, how lucky are you?

            Over the years, I have had people tell me that their partner/husband/wife - is their soul mate. Usually because they want to believe that the media hype applies to them. OK. If that’s how you see it, then that is all it takes for it to be true. Perception is Reality.

            But when I look at most relationships, I guess we have a different idea of what constitutes ‘a soul mate’. In my eyes, it is a connection of hearts and souls. Still unclear - wishy-washy? Sorry. I’ll try and do better. In no particular order… I look for respect in the treatment of the other party. The way you speak to them. The way you touch them. The way you look at them. The conversation of eyes, without words being needed. Putting the other’s needs before your own - every time. Protecting the other one. Knowing the other one, and knowing what their needs are rather than seeing your needs in them and judging that to be what they want. Giving them surprises that make them light up. You lighting up when it’s him or her on the phone. I expect you get the picture by now.

            This is the Heart side. What about the Soul side? Let’s get back to today’s waitress. I wonder if she will find a partner that will understand how she felt in her deepest core, her essence, when she chose that tattoo and who knows the person that chose that tattoo? Who understands all of that well enough to try and give her “the world” that she wishes - just to see her smile? If she does find someone like that, well, lucky her. In my opinion she will have a soul mate. I am lucky in that I had that once and (being twice blessed, albeit vicariously this time), see that in several of you - my friends. My life is warmed by what I see in your relationships.

            That was rather a complex set of thoughts to ponder, but it underlines my point of why we are atop the food chain. Not because we have the power to kill for food better than other animals but because we can appreciate the subtleties of a nebulous, shifting twisted skein of ideas - and then add our own capricious variations to the mix.

            One last idea to mess with - the Barclays LIBOR fixing scandal and all that goes with it. Who cares about LIBOR fixing? Really - who cares? It’s done. Live with it. Spilt milk. Yes, there were harsh consequences. Yes, you can name and shame guilty parties. Apologies can be made, but in general, the great majority of wrongs in life can’t be righted. How do you right genocide or stealing someone’s dreams or self-respect?

            What really interest me though, is the little snippets that journalists chuck in and then never follow up. Or if they do, the full story doesn’t make it out of the newsroom. Snippets like:

-           This nonsense about Paul Tucker being misinterpreted.  Why couldn’t he speak clearly in the first place? In simple Engrish? Why was there a need to use circumspect language? When does the smug cleverness of ambivalent speech for political expedience ever end well?

-           Were other banks told to misrepresent the LIBOR rate because a high rate made them look like they were in trouble. If they told the truth, there could have been a loss of confidence and 7 or 8 more might have gone under like Lehman Bros with the consequent panic of runs on High St. banks and collapse of the economy that would follow? If that were the case, then misstating the rate was the right thing to do. When caught between lying and a collapsed economy, what choice have you got?

-           What politicians were interested in misstating the LIBOR rate? While this may make the Labour party look silly briefly, from their intervention in 2008 (if there were any - and there probably were), lack of controls over this reporting has apparently been the norm for some 20 years or more, so earlier Tory governments will come into the spotlight as well (what fun - what sport!).

            I have saved my main point for last. It is this. Bob Diamond has earned about £120 million since 2005. For him to earn that, Barclays must have made a HUMUNGOUS profit in that time, not just to pay Bob Diamond but all who attracted bonuses.

            The simple question is: why is it necessary to make such large profits?

            I’m not having a pop at Barclays in particular, more at anyone in business who wants to make as much money as they can with no regard for the consequences. Is greed and self-interest to be what we want to teach our children? And when they practice what they learn, will others admire them for it or will it attract contempt? These are our kids. Is this to be our legacy to them? Contempt?

            And what about the community that we live in? If you’re making so much money, that the many have to pay so a greedy few can benefit, is that in the community’s interests? Yes, I know that’s the way the world is, but is it right? Is this what being Top Of The Food Chain reduces us to? Let’s look after ourselves and those that suffer as a consequence, well too bad - I got a good bonus. It’s easy to accept “That’s the way it is”.  "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." - Edmund Burke.

Wish I’d thought of that.