The Power of Music

I know this will sound uncharitable, but I was facing last Staurday evening with some trepidation. Until a week ago the calendar had just said "gig". The plan had been to go to Camden Town to see the band of a friend play - he is the lead vocalist. The "friend" was my daughter's headmaster at her junior school (my daughter is now almost 19) and something of an inspirational character. This is an oft used description, but rarely so well deserved - more of that later.

Just before my daughter moved to senior school this man was diagnosed with (male) breast cancer and has been fighting it ever since. There have been times of hope and "other" times, but through it all his faith, his family and his music have helped see him through. I am not too sure of the history of his band, but having seen them a couple of times they are clearly old friends who have other careers yet enjoy playing together. I am not a music expert or critic, but I would put then in the soft rock genre and they write a lot of their own songs.

This last year for him has been rocky in places, but they decided to put the band together for this gig last Saturday. They had also started recording some of the tracks for posterity.

At the same time he and his wife of 28 years had also been planning to renew their marriage vows later this year. With his future uncertain they felt they wanted to do this sooner rather than later and plans were afoot to make that happen.

Well ten days ago his health took a blow. I won't go into details out of respect and knowing that he has not wanted everyone to know. The things to know are that a) it was a major blow and shook their plans and b) it affected his ability to process words and speak. As a result we and others were informed on Monday that instead of a gig they would use Saturday evening to renew their vows "followed by light refreshments and some music".

Of course one wondered if this would be the end, the last time of meeting. In truth my wife, daughter, sister-in-law and niece (who was also one of his pupils) were much closer to him and more upset. For my self the trepidation was what sort of mood would the evening have and how would it leave all the attendees. I guess I was doing my "man of the family" piece and looking at how to hold mine together in face of the evening and its news.

My niece couldn't go having a major university exam all Staurday afternoon in Canterbury, but around 7pm the rest of us set off. We arrived at a large church in Muswell Hill and were directed near the front as we were "special" friends.

Let me say, and anyone who knows me knows, that church is not a normal place for me. I do have an inner faith, few scientists don't, but I have never related to the established churches for reasons that do not have a place in this posting. That said, the church that evening had a warmth and I am not talking about the weather.

Upholstered chairs rather than wooden pews. Plenty of red carpet and a buzz. People were laying out finger buffet food and uncorking bottles of wine at the back. Up front a number of musicians were practising, almost jamming as one felt that maybe they were learning some pieces for the first time or at least playing together for the first time. This include members of the band.

When he arrived, he had a smile fixed across his face and looked something like a little boy. I will get told off for this, but the fit of his suit reminded me of an old Norman Wisdom film - the jacket seemed too short. While he did say some hellos he was not his usual effusive and verbal self - a sign of what the last week had done to him.

His children had decided that he would not see their mother's dress until they were in the church so rather than the couple walking down the aisle together, his three children, two sons (19 and 11?) and daughter (17?) escorted their mother to join their father at the front.

What followed was touching and uplifting, rather inspirational like the man. The hymns sung were in a modern style - I am still not sure that they are not tunes I have heard in the charts, tho' the words were clearly hymnal. He struggled with his words on occassion, finding it easier to read what was written than to have to think and then speak. His wife prepared a speech of thanks to her husband and to the congregation for coming at such short notice and was then suprised as their eldest son read his father's words in response.

What could have been laden with doom and despair had been lifted.

After the service the wine and refreshments were passed around as the band prepared. As they said, if he couldn't go to the gig then the gig would come to him. They did something unusual in that they played the vocals he had pre-recorded some weeks a go and the band endeavoured to play around them - no easy feat.

At one point he even went up and sang with the band. Considering less than a weak before he could not speak at all this was something of a miracle. His wife was so pleased that he had been lifted in such a way.

I have lost track of which order these came in so forgive me, but towards the end there were two powerful points.

In one they played his haunting vocals to a song he and his friend (best man and band member) had penned and only completed recently. I managed to capture it on my camera phone, but out of respect (and it is not my place to do so) I will not post it. The key was that apart from his singing and the band's light support you could have heard the proverbial pin drop as everyone there was captured in the moment.

The other was when the same friend sang a song he had written just last Monday about and to this man. This was clearly very emotional, but also very apt.

We are told that they had expected around 100 people for the evening - the actual count was over 200. friends had rallied round providing food and drink and making it all possible. His wife's brother had driven overnight from Italy to be there (he did not let on until he walked into the kitche that afternoon). One couple were their with the 4-day old baby as they said they couldn't miss it. This was a sign of the man and what he means to people.

The time came to say goodnight. There had been emotional moments up until then requiring the application of tissues and handkerchiefs, but this ratcheted up as we prepared to leave. He was saying (almost whispering) bye to everyone one, but we don't think many really knew how serious matters are. My girls were red-eyed as they hugged him and posed for picture, wondering if this would be the last time they would see him.

I pondered what to say and came up with "Good night young man". It brought a genuine smile to his face and I guess that was my small gift to him.

So back to the title of this post. The music set a great tone for what could have been a sombre and tearful event, it has clearly brought many good friends together for a long time and it has sustained and lifted this special man through his long and continuing fight with cancer. How long this will go on, no one knows, but I feel was privileged to be invited last Saturday.

Without taking anything from Stephen Sutton and what he achieved in his short life, we should never forget that there are hundreds, even thousands of others who are battling daily and inspiring those around them in quieter, but no less important ways.

Authenticity, UKIP and Me

At the weekend I was listening to a popular talk radio show that focussed on the fact that there is now less than a year until the next General Election in Britain and asking people how they would vote and why? The background being the surge in popularity of Nigel Farage and UKIP, the UK Independence Party. As I listened it sent me back to an episode in my life almost 30 years ago.

I should say at the start that I am not a political creature, having never sought public (or private) office and having had little time for the cyclical, manipulative, shallow and self-centred behaviours that have been evident in mainstream politics for most of my life. Nor am I a supporter of UKIP or Nigel Farage, though I will confess a degree of admiration at his willingness to give voice to interests that are clearly widely felt, yet tinged with personal danger. In this I speak of the criticism of being labelled racist when he looks to control immigration. There are some crazies in UKIP, a new party will attract them, but then there are crazies in any party. That does not make it a racist party.

Anyway back to phone in. The context as that UKIP is expected to poll well in the European elections this year, and while on previous occasions this dropped when translated to the national stage, pundits are predicting that they may hold onto up to 55% of that support next year.

The general view from callers was that few trusted the established political leaders, while a number found Farage "a breath of fresh air". He is seen as someone who speaks in a way they can engage with. Of course the chances of UKIP gaining control are about the same as their ability to form a coherent and believable government at this stage, but they are likely to make a difference, one that may impact all of the main parties.

So what has my past to do with this? Well in the late 70's I was an undergraduate at Jesus College, Oxford. I was studying physics, but also played rugby, darts and bridge and I rowed; I was neither geek nor jock, but maybe a little of both. The one thing I had not got into was poilitics. I was and still am a member of the Oxford Union having taken a life membership in my first week as a student, but I have since visited the place only a handful of times, the most memorable being when Richard Nixon addressed the Union.

All colleges have a Junior Common Room or JCR. Not only is this a physical place to meet, read, drink tea, watch TV, etc, it also represents the Junior members of college on various matters, organises a number of social events and sets an overall agenda for the year. Some JCRs are notoriously political, but Jesus was not while I was there.

Each year the undergraduate body elects a JCR President, who then appoints their committee. This is done in the summer term and usually elects a then first year student, who will be JCR president in their second year, before concentrating on finals in their third. As you would expect some people aspire to be JCR President, but it had not crossed my mind.

In my first year election time approached and a number of people were nominated, wrote manifesto's and faced hustings. Frankly as long as the place ran I was OK with that. I had plenty else to do, but with a couple of weeks to go some people suggested to me that I should run for the role. I dismissed this for some time, but with a week to go and a number of other encouragement a I acquiesced on the basis that I would not indulge in the usual "political" stuff or go canvassing.

My memories are a little sketchy as I have hardly thought about this since 1978. I recall it wrote a single sheet that basically stated I was apolitical, that I would seek to focus on the things that made a difference to students in college and not worry about nuclear disarmament (or something similar) and that I was a WYSIWYG candidate, what you see is what you get. I guess in modern speak I was positioning myself as an "authentic" and straight forward candidate. I pinned the sheet on the college notice board and my campaigning was complete.

I was true to my word, I did not canvas or seek votes. So it was with some surprise that I came second by, as I recall, only a handful of votes. There was no prize for coming second other than so,e personal satisfaction. Instead I went onto enjoy my other interests for another two years.

The girl who beat me carried out the position effectively and went on to be the partner in a major law firm. I believe she is now retired while I am still working so you can form your own assessment of our respective success.

That was not the point of this post, but rather I have a sense of comraderie with Nigel Farage. As long as he can control the crazies and stay close to his own authenticity then against our current crop of uninspiring political leaders I think he can do well. He will not become Prime Minister, but he will worry them and mix things up. He may also accelerate the elevation of better politicians within the main parties and he will certainly keep them focussed.

I look forward to seeing what will happen in the next 12 months and I may even consider voting having not bothered for a number of years. I should say that my apathy to voting is a mix of extended disillusionment with all the main parties and their leaders and the fact that I reside in what has long been a landslide Tory constituency.

Maybe the tide is turning?

Interesting twists

I have been a little remiss recently in not posting here. Instead I have been trying the new Linkedin facility to "publish" what ends up looking something like a blog. After a period of inactivity there the Linkedin gnomes prod you, reminding you to post and even suggest topics to write about. A recent Linkedin prompt suggesting that I write about a career curveball led me down a strange train of thought; one I thought I would share both there and here.

It was almost 30 years ago and I was just married. I then worked for a major US Bank that had decided to relocate to the south coast of England. It did not feel like the right thing for me so I was facing my first redundancy.

This was in the ‘80s when life was fast and loud – look it up if you are too young to remember and one of the firms that sat at the top of the world of finance was Salomon Brothers, a legendary Wall Street firm and the subject of “Liar’s Poker” by Michael Lewis. It was seen as a hard place to work, but one where you could earn incredible sums of money and many aspired to work there. It was also the year that Salomons in London had greeted their annual graduate intake with a £5,000 cheque and wished them good luck in their future career as the firm had reassessed matters and no longer needed them.

While £5,000 was a lot of money in those days, this was a brutal introduction to the world of financial services for those involved. I sometimes wonder what became of the recipients of those cheques? I wonder if in retrospect it was a good thing to have happened?

But back to me. I was approaching the end date of my employment and had not secured my next role when I was invited to interview at Salomons. I was due to meet the Head of Operations. He is dead now but just in case anyone objects I will refer to him as LD. He interviewed me with his feet on his desk, collar open and tie loose. He advised me that he needed an executive assistant. I am not sure that I really knew what that meant then and am still uncertain now, but it seemed to be his bag man. He asked if I had a dinner suit (tuxedo for American readers), which I did. It seemed that he expected me to accompany him with clients four nights a week.

The day after the interview I received a call from a HR lady asking me if I was accepting the job? I said that no job had been offered, no salary had been talked. Ignoring me, she asked me again if I was taking the job? I replied that until I saw details on the role and package I was not in a position to make a decision.

I am not sure if she audibly sighed, but I was certainly left with the impression that she did. Whatever the case I received a letter in the post the next morning (this was before email!) and within minutes the HR lady was on the phone asking if I was accepting the offer. It felt like she had been watching for the envelope to drop, but I am sure that is just wishful speculation.

This time I thanked her for the offer and said I would consider it and get back the next day. Another sigh!

I guess these days that sort of behaviour might be described as bullying. In those days it was just Salomons. I think it was a few months later that I read “Liars Poker” and the book explained that so many people wanted to work for Salomons, at least in New York, that they would take any crumbs offered, even without formal role offers or salary details. Just to be working for Salomons was reward enough for many young career starters.

Back to my story. It was early December, I had no other offers and only three weeks before I would be unemployed. I felt somewhat cornered. While my new wife was not keen on me being out four nights a week, we had a mortgage and life to support. The role had some interesting aspects and the pay was actually pretty good so with a degree of reluctance and self-doubt I accepted the offer and settled myself to a new start on the 2nd January.

Strangely in the period between Christmas and New Year, a Canadian bank that I had talked to some weeks before called me at home. They were keen to progress matters and when they found I had accepted a role as Salomons, they started a frantic three days of phone interviews and negotiations, many conducted on the stairs of my sister-in-law’s house where we were staying. This culminated in an offer to join their change team. The money was actually about 10% less than Salomons, but the actually role felt better. Long story short, I decided I wanted to take the second role.

Remember Salomons had earlier that year paid off their graduate recruits and kissed them good bye so I felt able to return the favour. I know, two wrongs do not make a right, but at the end of the day only one person was looking after my best interests and that was me; I am sure Salomons were only concerned about theirs. So on New Year’s Day as I drove through central London to visit family I stopped by their offices in Victoria (they were open and operational!) and left a letter that said words to the effect of “ you know I was due to join you tomorrow, well sorry I have changed my mind and will not do so now”.

Not surprisingly I never heard from them again.

Looking back this was the turning point for me into the world of change as it was with the Canadian bank that I was first trained as a project manager. Who knows where I would have been had I been wining and dining four nights a week, but I have to say I am not unhappy to be where I am.

It would be easy to say that the end justifies the means, but I do find myself a tad uncomfortable about that particular episode. I value my integrity and my word is my bond. While I was true to myself I did break a ”contract” even if I had been under a little duress at the time of accepting it.

I am constantly reminded that the world is a small place and one’s reputation often precedes you. I think it is good to have something like this in your past to act as a reference against which other actions can be assessed.

I wonder if anyone else has such an episode they might share?