Recovering memories

The following poem was kindly sent to me by Mike Jones working with Averil Dawson, a resident of the care home, Grovewood House, which specialises in dementia care.

I work in conjunction with the two local Universities and several care homes seeking ways to assist those living with dementia. Part of my work entails using drama and the written word to address thoughts and feelings as expressed by those with whom I work.

Over the past month I've completed a poem which records the emotions of Avril on the day her weeping father dressed her ahead of the official closing of North Wallbottle Colliery. It was of course the day he lost his job. It had never crossed my mind that such an event could continue to impact so heavily across the generations but Avril opened my eyes to the reality with her thoughtful words.

She made me recognise that for some, as the poem concludes, "there will be no closure".

There Will Be No Closure
(1959)

Even as a child
I could sense the tension
 barely suppressed emotion
properly expressed elsewhere;
a sense of sadness
 father beside my bed
 laying out my clothes;
an unfamiliar order.
 
My mother's job not his
 for he was a man of picks,
of shovels, of coal and of shafts.
A man's man
a mine's man,
now in decline
 his tears extracting mine.
 
Pegswood to North Walbottle:
a life divided
to be divided once again,
unalterable change
we both grow cold
 both grew old
our cheeks with tears stained.
 
Youth solemnly prepared
for a mournful event
the clothing of the child
emotion running wild
working men exiled
politically reviled.

The clothing of the child
the closing of a life
the close.
 
                                                                      
Mike Jones                  January 30th 2016

On behalf of Averil Dawson, her family and the miners of North East England.

Betty Pit of North Walbottle Colliery finally closed on 24th February 1968, just one among many pit closures in the north-east. The effect of its closure was discussed in parliament. The Durham Mining Museum website has a photo of the colliery and its pit-head baths (1939).

The best photo I can find though is on the Alamy website (which chages for use of its photos) so I only link to it here. The photo from Mirrorpix was taken on 18th May 1949 and is titled: It's almost 10am and the day shift men enjoy a last smoke and a chat before descending the Betty Pit of North Walbottle Colliery to commence their day's work.

Mike's second version of this poem dated November 30th 2016 is slightly different. It recalled, not the closure of the collieries, but the ever-present dangers of a coal miner's life, and the devastating injuries that can also end their working lives. The 3rd and 4th verses in this version are changed as below:

1935 to 1957
one injury for every single year
until reprieve and celebration.
Then a broken back.
  Lives rearranged,
unalterable change.
We both grow cold
 both grew old
our cheeks with tears stained.
 
Youth solemnly prepared
for a mournful event
the clothing of the child
emotion running wild
 a human being exiled
working life defiled.

The explanation of the two versions of Mike's moving poem is given below in his own words.

On January 27th 2016 the Skylarks Project at Grovewood House explored inter-generational relationships.  Averil Dawson's face filled with emotion as she recalled an incident in which she could not understand why she had cried. Her father had stood silently at her bed, tears streaming from his face. The group assisted Averil in further exploration until she appeared to find clarity and was able to complete her story. She recalled that she was being dressed by her father in preparation for the ceremony commemorating the closure of the colliery where he had worked for many years. It emerged as a most touching recollection which drew considerable praise from group members for Averil's dignity and, as Laura observed, “gentle, thoughtful words”. In an effort to capture for the group this small yet apparently significant piece of local history I penned the above words a day or two later. 
 
Over subsequent weeks and indeed months Averil and I met to discuss and alter the poem according to her wishes. Sadly, due to progressive dementia, she remained confused as to the precise events which had led to her distress. Family, she said, had observed that the facts as written were not accurate. We altered the material on a regular basis yet could not resolve the mystery until a chance meeting between myself and Averil's younger brother Fred. He was able to explain that their father, William Henry Spry, had worked in the coal mines of Northumberland between 1935 and 1957. Each year he had experienced an accident. Celebrations were in order when he managed to survive the whole of 1958 without injury. Tragically however the following year he broke his back while in the colliery and was never able to undertake this work again.
 
Averil, Fred and I discussed what should be done with the poem. We recognise that, although inaccurate, it nevertheless captured experiences which were relevant to the lives of so many across this region. At the same time the poem's own history reflected upon a very modern day concern, that of dementia, as epitomised by Averil's attempts to capture her father's story with accuracy. Furthermore her moving account and emotional use of words underlined how significant events, as perceived from childhood, can impact powerfully in later life.  Ultimately therfore it was felt that the work still retained validity and should be sent to the Miner's Institute for their information.
 
It was also suggested that alterations be made to the original in an effort to, while retaining its general structure and sentiments, reflect the actual events of this part of William Henry Spry's working and domestic life. I hope that together the two works, with their interesting origins and anomalies, do justice to his memory and to the memories of all miners and their families.