Three years ago, Richard and his wife Jackie reached a critical point in their lives which might have been framed by the following question: Should we stay in South Yorkshire close to our roots or should we move two hundred and thirty miles down to Brighton in Sussex?
The reason that this quandary had arisen was that both of their grown up children had settled in Brighton and their daughter had given birth to their only grandchild down there. Should they stay or should they go?
Richard reflects upon what I have recently referred to as "the land of your heart". He and Jackie grew up in the mining village of Hoyland Common six miles north of Sheffield and then in 1981 they moved into the city itself where they raised their kids. Their son and daughter were several years ahead of my children but they went to the same primary school and the same secondary school.
He remembers his childhood, meeting Jackie and of course all the business with kestrels. His brother Barry became pretty famous but remained true to his background and never put on airs and graces. When I spoke with Richard, he admitted that Barry had always been a good brother to him and possessed a naturally "modest" character.
The middle chapter - in which Richard describes Barry's decline through forgetfulness to memory loss to Alzheimer's and death in a care home is very moving. I read it in my car after exploring the slopes below Stanage Edge in search of abandoned millstones. Here's a small taste:
Over the months and years it became apparent that Barry's forgetfulness was more serious than what most of us experience as we get older; he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. Once when I took him on a walk he was troubled by an imaginary financial problem and kept repeating he'd talk to Mother about it. Then, holding out his hands, he mimed pushing a document under a screen, saying he needed to go to the bank. When I first visited him at his care home he was in a corridor examining imaginary objects on a blank wall. When he saw me, he walked forwards smiling and said: "Richard, I'm so glad you've come." Eventually though, he no longer recognised me and would chat about his brother 'Our Richard'.
There is great affection, warmly remembered detail and humour in "The Place That Knows Me". In the end, Richard and Jackie decided to stay put in Sheffield even though they had taken out a rental lease on a flat in Brighton - very close to their daughter's home. Instincts told them that they would never be able to settle in Brighton. They would always be restless, pining for their homeland here in South Yorkshire.
I will be visiting Richard for the second time tomorrow and taking him a special gift from Durham Cathedral.
There's a real thing that exists in regard to where you feel at home. I for one have always lived close or in Sheffield but I resonate towards Wales (the country not the village). We all have somewhere we feel at home. Unfortunately I'm not in a financial position to relocate.
ReplyDeleteWe have some tough decisions to make as we age. Health conditions make decisions more difficult.
ReplyDelete'Home is where the heart is' springs to mind. It is particularly difficult later in life to make a major move away from what you have been familiar with.
ReplyDeleteYesterday, the Turner Classic Movie station (TCM) aired “Kes.” When I saw the listing in the Houston Chronicle for a film I’d never heard of until last week, I was gobsmacked.
ReplyDeleteMoving is always hard and even harder as we age. I hope to stay in this house for another twenty years but who knows. I think Richard will enjoy your company.
ReplyDeleteI am glad they have chosen to stay where their heart is. My upstairs neighbour is always taking holidays back in Europe and when she was leaving last August I said to her she should try to find a way to stay there because "you live here, but your heart is there", being originally from Europe.
ReplyDeleteThank you for telling us more about the book. As I said before, I want to look for it at The Little Ripon Bookshop when I'm there in July.
ReplyDeleteIt is nice that you'll visit Richard and Jackie again, and even have a little gift for him.
I'm ordering "The Place That Knows Me" from our bookshop. I have a great affection for Sheffield and can understand why Richard and Jackie don't want to leave. The pull of family is very strong though, particularly as we get older.
ReplyDeleteEnjoy your visit today, Neil.
ReplyDeleteOf topic but relevant to yesterday - from today’s Times
ReplyDeleteYou feel you could, if it came to it, talk about Britain in emotionally rousing apocalyptic terms — “this country is finished”; “This country is in irreversible decline”; “Broken Britain” — while misremembering it as a one-time paradise with a red phone box on every corner, a busty wench serving in every pub, a grammar school in every town and Barbara Windsor forever saucily twanging off her bra to much amusement. There was the occasional wrong ’un but Dixon of Dock Green would always promptly see them off. You will consider this misremembered Britain that never existed as rightfully yours. Who stole it? Corrupt Westminster? Outsiders? The woke brigade? If you have a finger, and most of us do, now is the time to point it. You will, hopefully, know in your heart that unless you can dream up existential enemies, this country’s problems will never be solved.
My favorite aunt had Alzheimer's, eventually dying from it. Such a heartbreaking condition for both the patient and the family. She was in a long-term care facility for several years before she passed and the nice thing was the facility had studio apartments for family to live in so they could be close by. My uncle moved in and stayed until my aunt passed.
ReplyDeleteI never felt really rooted in the town and village where I grew up, and I think that probably has something to do with my parents never really putting down roots there either. When dad retired they moved back to the area where they grew up - which is also where I have now been living for 40 years myself...
ReplyDeleteBarry died in a care home. Richard will want to die in his own home.
ReplyDeleteWe talk about making a new start. Or we look for a second home by the sea.
David Malouf the Australian novelist was born in Brisbane. His mother was
English and of Sephardi Jewish descent. His father was from Lebanon.
David sold his second home in Tuscany and now lives permanently in Sidney.
His best novels are *The Great World* *Harland's Half Acre* and his first book,
*An Imaginary Life* which looks at the Roman poet Ovid.
YouTube : David Malouf - An Imaginary Life.
Tuscany is idyllic. Yet many non-Italians who moved there are disillusioned.
About 1/3rd of the people in the United States that move in retirement, move back to where they had lived most of their lives.
ReplyDeleteI have at least two places of my heart and do not live in either one. Life is funny.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you've quite possibly made a new friend. I am sure the relationship will be good for both of you.
This is a timely post for me as we move my older brother to a care facility tomorrow. He is just one year older than me but he has Alzheimer's and his wife is just not able to give him the care he needs. It's tragic and sad but hopefully the new situation will be better for him. My big brother was always the smartest, funniest, caring person. I'm lucky to have all of my siblings living in the same town as me so we can all be there to help each other.
ReplyDelete"The Place that Knows Me" is such a wonderful title. Even though I wasn't born in Virginia, I have lived here for over 40 years. So, in a way, it is like home to me. My birth home is a place I visit every summer, but I don't think I could return to live there permanently. It is too cold in the winter, and it is tRump country as well.
ReplyDeleteMy mom's Alzheimer's journey was very much like the one Richard described about his brother's. Se created a world which became her reality and I had to enter that world during my visits. She had a beautiful wedding ring and I had to keep it for safe keeping. The way she rationalized what happened to her ring was that my Dad stole it (he had been dead for 20 years) and, in Mom's words, "that SOB sold it for $25,000 so he could gamble." My parents had a wonderful marriage and to hear her call my dad a SOB was heartbreaking.
ReplyDeleteA book I will visit
ReplyDelete