When it's Time to Say 'Goodbye'

I doubt the names Will D. Cobb and Paul Barnes will mean anything to you, but bear with me, and I'll try to explain.  As I reflected upon this Janus* of a week, a song came to mind that was published in New York some 119 years ago.  Cobb wrote the words while Barnes was responsible for the melody.  It first gained popularity in the Spanish-American War but, within a couple of years, slight changes were made to the lyrics.  The words "'Tis the tramp of solders true, In their uniforms so blue, I must say goodbye to you" were replaced by "'Tis the tramp of solders' feet In their uniforms so neat, So goodbye until we meet".  British red uniforms took the place of the American blue (although they were soon to be exchanged for khaki to blend with the veldt) and "Goodbye Dolly Gray" became a song of national support for our boys fighting the Boers in South Africa.  I wonder how many people thought to question the spelling of the lady's name.

My last post here looked ahead to a day of 'self inspection and teaching' at our church last Saturday, which we called "At Home Together".  It began with a morning of teaching about the theme of hospitality, and after lunch came a whole variety of activities, from swimming to sewing, from walking to painting, from talking to reading the papers to just doing nothing.  I felt it was a mixture that reflected what a real family might find itself doing on a Saturday afternoon. In the evening there was dancing to use up the last dregs of our energy.

My friend summed the day up amusingly: "Boogie-woogie Bible study", but then followed up with a more thoughtful analysis, "It was about us reconnecting and getting to know each other better, through having fun together, but we still managed to open our doors wide to those who need us most.  This is why I'm so proud of being part of this church family."  It was a time of looking forward to what we might be doing in the future, both collectively and as individuals or small groups, and the service on Sunday followed the same positive theme.

On Monday, I went to the annual school reunion, where there was a brief debate about winding up the society.  The school closed in the 1980s, so there is no more 'new blood' to be introduced; attendance and interest in a formal organisation is expressed solely by the over-60s now, and the organising committee felt it was time to go out on a high, rather than reach a point where dignity and willpower simply evaporate.  There is still a lot of feeling among some of the older members towards some kind of regular get-together, but indecision about how this can be arranged without some formal structure.

The whole thing has been left in abeyance until some of them gather for a Christmas dinner in a few months' time.  Most of the others are older than me, many having left the school before I was born, or soon after!  I have been a keen follower of the society in the past but, for me, the time has come for mental self-preservation.  While I recognise that, like everyone else, I'm getting older, I feel that having so many friends that are younger than me keeps me young ... in outlook at least.  If I have to be with older folks, then I would prefer to spend time with those I know, see frequently and with whom I can have some kind of relationship, rather than make an occasional trip to see people who are virtually strangers.  I admit this is selfish, but my enjoyment of this week's gathering was dulled as I thought of all the human decay around me.

By contrast, the next day was a most uplifting occasion.  We celebrated the life of a lady who had recently died after a long battle with cancer.  In the usual funereal way, relatives and friends paid their tributes and we learned something of her life long before her path ever crossed ours.  The service had been arranged very much following her own wishes, and I was privileged to be one of a small choir - with whom she had sung until shortly before her death - to lead the hymns and close the ceremony with one of her favourite choral works.

Before you go hunting in bewilderment for that tattered song book in your cupboard, I'll confess.  The exact words of my title are not to be found in the song, but I think you'll agree that the sentiment is appropriate to the events of this week.  I've looked forward, as those solders did when they marched away; I've looked back, as folk often do when they sing songs like this, to the early lives of those around them or whom they knew in times past; and there has been a facing of death, the raw emotion of being reminded of our own mortality, as soldiers might when comrades fall, or like the fictional Dolly, as she realised that her soldier boy wasn't among the returning regiment.

I'll be looking for a lighter theme to write about next week.

*Janus - a Roman god with two faces, for looking both forward and back.