Life flushed down the sewer!

My son's caption - "Spot the tourists"

Princess Street Edinburgh.

Dave's dead!
I got a text message from a guy who went to the Drop-in centre at our old Church. He let me know that Dave had died. Over the last couple of years I had expected Dave to die a few times. He had ruined his body with alcohol and drug abuse. He came into my office perhaps twenty-five years ago and asked for some cans of food. He had run out and he was hungry.  I gave him some and gave him a cup of tea. He called back quite frequently for a chat and cup of tea and I got much of his life story. He asked if he could play the piano, and from then on he would call in, have a cup of tea then go up and play the piano and sing. He had forgotten the words to the songs, but that never stopped him - he would just make them up. He would roll from tune to tune, song to song and often played for an hour or more.  In his younger days he used to be in a dance band, playing piano, or keyboard, guitar and singing.  They had won talent quests and were quite sought after…. During this part of his life he was quite handsome and popular, but it was at the after-gig-parties where his heavy drinking began. Now as he played and sang he used to express his moods and his frustrations through his music, sometimes really pounding the ivories. He had a “crooners” voice, a Dean Martin style, and was quite pleasant to listen to in the background when he was in a good mood and playing quietly.  I was pleased to allow him the use of the Church piano so that he could keep his music alive, though one of my musicians was quite uncertain about this. Whenever Dave asked, I would allow him to play and then secretly pray that she wasn’t in town and likely to drop in at the Church. We had some ups and downs over the years. When he was boozed he could become stroppy and be disruptive so there were a few times he went off down the road abusing me because I had told him off.  I knew him years before we started the drop-in centre, but in due course he became one of our drop-in guys, and often played on the old piano in the hall during the night.   I recall once he told me how important the drop-in was to him and his buddies.  It is like a “pub with no beer” he said.  “If it wasn’t for this on a Friday night we’d be getting into trouble at the pubs.  Its bloody good!” The last few years his abuse of both drugs and alcohol caught up with him and his liver, veins and kidneys were not functioning properly and everything went down hill.  We did not see him much at the drop-in. The last time I saw him was when he came one night last year and asked after my health.  (Toward the end he sounded drunk even when he wasn’t. - nobody could convince me that regular use of marijuana doesn’t impact the brain!) I told him how I was and he responded. “You’re a good bugger – do you know that? – You’re one of the best! You’ve been good to me over the years – bloody good.”  “Happy to help when I can Dave.” I replied, but in my mind I said, “But I wish I could have changed you, healed you or made life much better for you."
This is the sad thing. Here was a guy who was talented, likeable and full of potential. In many ways he had more talent than I ever had or will have.  But his life has been progressively flushed down the toilet.  In spite of being in hospitals for rehab, in spite of all sorts of counselling and even imprisonment, Dave’s life has been stunted, and never reached anywhere near it’s potential. His death has reminded me of that. There are people throughout the world who for all sorts of reasons (poverty, oppression, mistreatment, bad choices, peer pressure etc etc) whose lives are messed up.  Such waste is tragic!  I have been in a sort of floating mode in recent weeks/months since retirement. I have been a “taker or user” of life and not contributing much. Currently I am not doing much to make this world a better place. I need to get back to living responsibly again to make life even just a little bit better for the Dave’s of this world.  Dave’s death is a wake up call to use responsibly the life I have been given.

It’s a small world.

We are in Edinburgh, a sizable city on the other side of the world from our hometown of Dunedin (The “Edinburgh of the South”) We were standing outside a pharmacy in Princess Street, perhaps the busiest street in Edinburgh with thousands of unknown people going by.  Out of the blue this woman stops, takes two steps back and says, “Hello Jean! Hello David!”  We knew her through Habitat for Humanity projects in Dunedin, she used to help with the catering. What are the chances of accidentally meeting in a big city on the other side of the world? She too was visiting family. We stood and chatted briefly as if we were in Princess Street in Dunedin, and she went on her way.  It was then that the amazing coincidence sunk in.  My kids and my wife tease me about knowing so many people. They reckon wherever I go I bump into somebody I know! – But in Edinburgh? - On the other side of the world? Really?