Day 296, “What we mourn for the dead is the loss of their hopes”

As I posted my aunt's birthday card, for what would once have been a twin anniversary, the quote seemed particularly poignant.

I came across the quote while reading some of John Berger shortly after hearing Clive James being interviewed.  Clive James is terminally ill and in what time he has left he's been writing, talking, making his peace with the world, and retaining a sense of humour.

There is a connection between the two artists/writers/poets, of sorts.  James states in one of his Observer television reviews:

"Give or take the odd anatomical discrepancy, John Berger affects me exactly like Jane Fonda - i.e. any opinion of mine which I discover he shares I immediately examine to find out what's wrong with it."

It has the nature of a sound-bite, it encapsulates an opinion and is nicely delivered in a humorous style, which is why it lives on outside the original review.  I can imagine a scene of James having to examine his opinions at regular intervals while Berger carries on in his French farm house oblivious to the activity - there may be arm-waving by both.

Perhaps there's a greater poignancy with regard to the quote and the increasing proximity to both of the above artists (indeed all of our) demise, or perhaps I'm just a sentimental fool.

Let's reject sentimentality for the sake of itself and just get on with doing, perhaps that might save other people having regret for our unfulfilled hopes when we've buggered off for good.






Here's a scene of continuous beauty, a Sheffield river, almost in the city centre.

Let's enjoy it while we have it.

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