I had bad news this week. I discovered an old friend had died. From primary one to seven Stewart Spence and I were in the same class and walked the same route to and from school.
We would engage in foot races, hopping races, cartwheel races, and any other competitions we could dream up. We played the “lava game” attempting to not touch the pavement.
We’d take adventurous detours, climb things, explore things, capture conkers, dob apples, and find trouble.
As often happens with school days friendships, we grew up and apart. In truth, I hadn’t seen Stewart for a long time. But if we had crossed paths we’d have stopped, shook hands, and said: “How are you doing?” – and be genuinely interested in the answer. Good memories stay with you.
I’m saddened, and embarrassed that I didn’t know he had died. I am ashamed that I didn’t attend his funeral and pay my respects to a good friend.
Perhaps Stewart’s passing wasn’t announced on the intimations page of The Courier. I don’t know. I missed it if it was, and intend to pay more attention in case I miss any more.
The obituaries page, a record of death, is a part of life. We need to know when we have suffered a loss. You’d be amazed by how many turn to that page first when they get their paper.
You don’t properly exist until your birth has been announced in the local paper. You aren’t truly dead until your death notice appears.
It is an important part of an important thing: The Courier. It is how our area mass-communicates. It is the authoritative voice of Tayside, Fife and Perth & Kinross. It is, in written form, the lungs that keep our part of the world alive.
Things would be very different without a strong local newspaper. It would be missed in thousands of ways.
The Courier is also the first draft of history. In hundreds of years any who have scrambled away from the rising seas, avoided the plagues, and survived the culture wars will look back and wonder what those quaint yesterday-people were like.
Historians will study us through the lens of The Courier and make judgments according to what they read.
What did we care about, complain about, argue about? Who was held to account? Who was lauded? Who won and who lost?
This newspaper, these words, are the single most important record of “us”. How we lived and how we died.
Word of the week
Cavil (verb)
Make personal or unnecessary objections. EG: “The Twitter mob cavil, having entirely misunderstood the thrust of the argument.”
Read the latest Oh my word! every Saturday in The Courier. Contact me at sfinan@dctmedia.co.uk
