Meeting Up With Old Faces
Ever thought it would be nice to meet up again with old acquaintances long lost in the mists of time? A good old chinwag with a contemporary who could match names and facts with you, sometimes a reminder of something or another that you thought you had long forgotten. Great stuff, but then a bit of a downer when asking about a mutual acquaintance only to be told that he or she had passed on. Oh well, that has to be expected at this time of life. Who said that re-unions should be left alone, and better to have your memories left untouched? Such was my own experience today.
I am in the fortunate position of having my own mother who is still alive, with it and living alone independent of others at the age of 94 years. She is still living in Leith. Like most of her generation, she scours the hatches, matches and dispatches, especially the latter, in the columns of the Edinburgh Evening News with monotonous regularity. Whenever she comes across a name that means something to her, she calls me to put me in the picture. " Did you see the death of so and so?" she would ask me.
Often enough I would reply in the negative. Most of the instances would be of somebody in her own age group. I would say that I was too young at the time to know this person. "You should know her!"
However, I did know the latest deceased person, despite her having passed the century mark last year. The departed lady`s son was known to me and I felt I should attend the service today. I have to admit that I was also hoping to meet up with acquaintances from my own past on the day. It has always been maintained that it is only on these occasions that these things happen.
I was present at the gates about fifteen minutes before the cortege turned up. Sure enough I met up with a lad I had not seen for forty years. Surprise, surprise, we recognised each other straightaway, and got talking and exchanging some reminiscences before entering the cemetery. Rosebank, for all you Leithers` information.
The service was simple and was attended by a large turnout of relatives, friends and neighbours.
At the conclusion I was approached by a man who asked if I was John Stewart. I replied in the affirmative and then he introduced himself. Hugh McGurn. He was a lad from the `Broad Pavement`, Parliament Square. One of the `Broady Gang`, the `Coppy`s` opponents of our childhood.
As we got talking, the years fell away from us. His wife just stood by gaping in amazement as our tales of yesteryear flowed from us in a continuous outpouring.
Names were bandied around and experiences shared. A number of the persons we mentioned are no longer about. Others have never had their misfortunes to seek, and I was left with the feeling that I maybe I had a lot to be thankful for.
Anyhow, we parted each others` company with the promise that we would keep in contact. Despite the sadness of the occasion, somehow tempered by the departed lady`s longevity, I came away with a feeling deep satisfaction and gratitude to have re-made the acquaintance of a boy who shared my childhood.
