Gather ye Rosebuds because we are living in a time of tragedy.

61 today. There is some triumph in that. In six decades of living, I've outwitted death twice first from a heart attack at 42 and rectal cancer at 56. I was in Toronto yesterday for a colonoscopy. There was no cancer detected which is good. But I must still have CT scans on the distant organs because errant cancer cells are like butterflies floating through the lymph nodes ready to land on anything that takes their fancy. Right now some speck on my liver requires further investigation in the New Year. But, I still have a few more tricks left in me to cheat the Grim Reaper at his crooked game for a little longer. What will get me in the long or short run is most likely going to come from my lungs. During my many CT examinations fibrosis was detected in my lungs. It's a nasty progressive disease which killed my brother, along with many relatives on my father's side of the family. My father also had it but he didn't die until 95. But he was from Barnsley and fought death since his birth with the broken end of a beer bottle.

So far, my symptoms are mild. But as the disease is incurable and progressive, it will change eventually. This would all be less worrying if Covid wasn't around because if you have dodgy lungs the virus can destroy you quickly.

I still have much to do despite having recently finished the sixth book to the Harry's Last Stand cycle. I am working on a seventh book that will be completed by May next year. Hopefully, the editing of my dad's unpublished Green and Pleasant Land will soon be completed. It's a bugger to finish because it has been an exhaustive undertaking piecing those notes and chapters from 1923-1945 all together into something my father would have said, "Yes that is how I wanted it done."

I am still trying to find ways to preserve all of my brother’s artworks that I don’t want to see vanish once I am dead. Those canvasses and sculptures are his story and journey across existence. There is a harsh and compassionate beauty to his work that should be shared with others.

Sometimes, especially because of the era we live in; I have doubts about what I am doing or what I did with my father during his Harry's Last Stand phase has any lasting significance. Sometimes, I don't know if it is just stubbornness that keeps me going at this or fear if I stop, I will discover it was all a hollow arrogant pursuit. But there are other moments when I feel blessed that I am doing this and find it is a task that challenges me and makes me a better human being.

Ultimately, the worth of the work my father and I did was to give voice to the dead from our working-class ancestors and argue for a return of the Welfare State, Whether that can be achieved now without bloodshed, I don't know. We are living in an age when genocide is live-streamed but instead of stopping it, our leaders enable it. If that doesn't tell you, we in the West not connected to power are for the chopping block, nothing will. 

Neoliberalism has created the economic and social conditions for revolution and totalitarianism. The US Presidential Elections are two weeks away, and whatever the outcome, it will be shit for the average American. No matter how the vote turns out, democracy is already dead in America, except for the top income earners. We are already living in a world of tragedy. It will get worse and may not get better in our lifetime. So, gather ye rosebuds…

But before the Marseilles or the Horst Wessel is sung outside my doors by revolutionaries, there will be cake today because tomorrow darkness may fall at noon.

I will take this day and enjoy it as much as I can. I will remember my dead. I will talk to those still alive who know and love me. I will reflect and rejoice that my life, these past sixty-one years, was not measured out in coffee spoons. I admit I had more failures than successes in relationships, business deals and artistic endeavours.

But the moments of my existence, so far, add up to an odyssey, where I was more compassionate than cruel to others. I learned much and was of good cheer when people in my life needed it most.

The songs playing in the jukebox for my existence will probably run out soon. Until that time comes, I will dance to those songs with a sense of joy and wonder, but also with defiance against a status quo that denies dignity, purpose and prosperity to us, the many.

Take care all.

Cheers, now I am going to indulge in cakes and ale.

Thanks for reading and supporting my Substack. Your support keeps me housed and also allows me to preserve the legacy of Harry Leslie Smith. Your subscriptions are so important to my personal survival because like so many others who struggle to keep afloat, my survival is a precarious daily undertaking. The fight to keep going was made worse- thanks to getting cancer along with lung disease and other co- morbidities which makes life more difficult to combat in these cost of living crisis times. So if you can join with a paid subscription which is just 3.50 a month or a yearly subscription or a gift subscription. I promise the content is good, relevant and thoughtful. But if you can’t it all good too because I appreciate we are in the same boat. Take Care, John