Povey Prattle

Closer even than neighbours were our lodgers, Mr. and Mrs. Whitefield. They rented two of our rooms, and shared our scullery. In post World War II England such arrangements were not uncommon - there being such a shortage of housing. “Uncle” Whitefield worked for the B.A.C - the Bristol Aeroplane Company, and we reckoned that anyone who worked there had “a good job” . He was losing his hair, and “Auntie” Whitefield would give him a comb-over. He was a great supporter of Bristol Rovers Football Club (soccer), and wanted to take me to a game. My parents would not give permission on the grounds that I might hear bad language from the fans. (If only they could hear me now!) . The Whitefields owned a battery operated radio, and once in a while I would earn a few coppers by taking the accumulator (battery) to a home at the top of Stepney Road, where another neighbour had the equipment to charge the accumulator overnight. When my brother Andrew came along in 1950, the Whitefields ado...

My cousin Rosemary died when she was 21. The year would have been 1959 or 1960. Rosemary was a most beautiful woman, the only child of my Uncle Fred and Aunty Phyll. She died from what we then called Hodgkin’s Disease. From the time of her death until her burial, her body rested in an open coffin in the “front parlour” of her parents’ home. Various people kept vigil with the body during that long week. That’s the way it had always been done, but Uncle Fred and Aunty Phyll were amongst the last to keep the old custom. They, and folks of my own parents’ generation were very realistic about death. If Granny or Grandpa lived and then died in your home, you would be very aware of death. The body would be there for you to see, and the “front parlour” was often reserved for this laying out (and for Christmas and other special occasions). There were other customs. If a parent, child or spouse died, the men and young boys would don a black tie, and women would wear black, or a black...

Bruce’s death is a hard blow to so many. Not least to his partner of 15 years, Ben. And Bruce’s wonderful children, (and I mean wonderful) , Nelson, Katie, Andrew and Eunice, together with their families. Two years ago I officiated at Nelson’s marriage on Cape Cod to Meredith, and then six weeks later, the four children and I were together at St. Luke’s Church in Worcester for the Requiem for their mother, Mary Virginia, at which I presided. Now Bruce has passed. We’d been friends for 31 years. He was a wonderful Priest in the Anglo-Catholic tradition. Bruce had a marvelous gift for hospitality, and we would joke that every person he met, even in the supermarket, would get an invitation to dinner at the home he shared with Ben in SRQ. I’d see Bruce and Ben during their annual trips to New England, and they would urge “visit us in Florida”. “Florida”, I would exclaim, “I hate Florida”. But at Nelson and Meredith’s wedding I promised that I would visit. That I did in early 200...

Death, be not proud (Holy Sonnet 10) by John Donne Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so; For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. Thou'art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy'or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Between February 1952 and March 1953 ( my eighth birthday was in May 1952) we had three Queens in England. There was the imposing, stately, and yes regal, Queen Mary, widow of King George V. I was told that she would be called the “Dowager Queen Mother”, but that was never one of her many official titles. Queen Mary was born on May 26th, as was I. Each year B.B.C. radio would play the National Anthem on her birthday - a nice bonus I thought “for me” ! Then Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, widow of King George VI. She’s the “Queen Mum” , known to most Americans. Finally, the new young Queen Elizabeth. She became Queen upon her father’s death. “The King is dead. Long live the Queen” was the official announcement. Elizabeth II was not crowned (“coronated” as my grandmother put it) until June 1953, by which time Queen Mary herself had died. Thus ended my British era of “Three Queens”. Now I am surrounded by them in Sarasota! ----------------------------------------------------...

Three nooses hanging from what had been a “whites only” tree at a schoolyard in Jena, LA. The School Superintendent described it as a prank. A noose hung outside a Black Cultural Center at the University of Maryland. A noose found in the locker room of the Hempstead, NY. Police Department, where the Deputy Chief is a Black American. Back to the ‘50’s? Not quite. The three instances quoted above happened in 2006 and 2007. Back to the ‘50’s? Not quite. The last “officially reported” lynching took place in 1968. That’s if you discount the 1998 slaying of James Byrd. Nooses are never pranks. They are icons of Americans’ widespread decision to be racist. Read again this 1939 song, made famous/infamous by Billie Holiday. Abel Meeropol, Strange Fruit. Southern trees bear a strange fruit, Blood on the leaves and blood at the root, Black body swinging in the Southern breeze, Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees. Pastoral scene of the gallant South, The bulging eyes and the t...

Our terrace contained five houses. Each backed on to the old L.M.S. railway (now a bike path), and the terrace was on the rise which led up to the railway bridge. We were # 47, and the Charltons and Auntie Elsie, of whom I have written were at #49. At #43 were the Halletts. They were jobbing builders. They had an "L" shaped builders’ yard, the bottom end of which cut across our back garden. Old Mr. and Mrs. Hallett were pleasant enough, and my parents and they would have the occasional “across the wall” chat. They were the only neighbours with a ‘phone, so we relied on them for the occasional emergency call. They had two children, Phyllis and Don who worked in the family business. Phyllis was the book-keeper for the family business, and I always think of her) pardon the expression) as a “maiden lady of a certain age”. She kept herself to herself, and bore a certain air of disapproval. Don, the son, in due course inherited the family business. This was long after...