Memory Lane - Southend

It's a long story that I'll skip here, but this weekend I somehow managed to get myself down to Southend, where I grew up. I've only been back about 3 times since we left here in around 1966 and moved to Manchester.


I don't know why I'm so fond of the place, really, as it's not exactly a beautiful location like Goa. Over the years I've always tried to find a way to visit. The first time I brought Catherine to England, I brought her here on a day trip from London. So that was about 1994 I think. Then I brought Simon and friends here a couple of times, maybe around 2004, I'm not sure.

This was my first visit alone. It was good, so I could reminisce in peace.

Saturday was a freezing March day; Southend  was wind-swept and rainy.--Icy-cold, driving rain.  I took the train along the pier and sat in the little cafe with a pot of tea, watching the sea birds and the waves crashing, and the occasional boat passing up the estuary to London. ....

Here's the view back from the end of the pier. I slipped on that rain-washed decking and ended up flat on my back. No harm done, just a little bruised.

View from the cafe. It was not possible to be outside; the wind was howling and rain beating down.

One thing that fascinated me was watching the seagulls trying to get aloft. They had to really battle with that wind, but they'd get airborne somehow, then stay aloft and soar away. Perhaps the wind is helping them...on balance, an advantage rather than a disadvantage?

It got me thinking about the troubles of life. Maybe they do help us...

I went to see the house where I grew up. For years and years I've dreamt about knocking at the door and asking to see inside. Finally,  feeling like I've got nothing to lose, I went and did it. Oh too bad, I rang the bell three times, but there was nobody there. Looks like the house is being renovated.  

I popped down to the beach where I spent my childhood. Also rain lashed. Picked up a few small stones to bring home to the grave. Placing stones on a grave is actually a Jewish tradition that I rather like. I always bring two stones. One for Pax, one for Catherine. 

(Oh I have good news; the priest from Bhopal is now arranging the proper memorial/tomb for Pax. More on that another day.)

 

I walked along the road where I used to go to school, and then I ended up eating fish and chips in the cafe that I am fairly certain is in the same place where my mum used to bring us. Under new management, 45 or so years later! 

I thought a lot about the move we made to Manchester. Leaving here was a very big disruption in my childhood. I'd already changed schools--from the posh private Thorpe Hall to the rough and ready Greenways with 40 kids in the class. Then in Manchester I was almost a foreigner with my south England accent. The chance of having lifelong friends and links that would stretch from childhood throughout life was lost. Maybe that disruption contributed to my wandering and searching as a young teen.

 

But it wasn't anybody's "fault" we left the seaside for the gloom of the industrial north. (You can tell I'm no Manchester fan!) Nobody's fault; it was simply circumstances.--My dad's job. 

And on my quiet day of reflection in Southend, I mused on how much of our life is affected by circumstances that aren't really anybody's choice. Much of life seems to be governed not by right or wrong choices, but simply by things that happen. We have the majesty of choice only as much as circumstances give us options to choose from. 

So perhaps we're not always as much to blame for things that go wrong in our lives as we think we are. Not to say that we're victims--as we still have the opportunity to choose within the realm in which we exist--but that realm is not limitless. Thinking back to those seagulls--wind, gravity, food, climate, the behaviour of other birds and creatures, their genetic structure, all contribute to the world in which the birds make their  flight. "As free as a bird" is perhaps a bit fictitious. 

Perhaps I'm no different than a seagull. I've been buffeted by winds and constrained by circumstances. Now I'm struggling to soar aloft. Jesus promised, "you will know the truth and the truth will make you free", but it's only truth wrapped up in love that works. (Or so the wise lady at the conference said.) 

Perhaps  freedom from guilt comes from the truth being wrapped up in God's love, the truth that not everything that happens in our lives can be attributed to our own choices, we or "they" (whoever "they" may be) are not always to blame. It just happened, just like that.

Perhaps this doesn't make sense to you. But if you know anything about the story of how each of my children died, you will understand.