PrincessFiona's Open Salon Blog

What it is to be human: Brian Keenan and John McCarthy

Fri, 19 Jun 2009 11:06:53 -0400

Every month or so I receive a newsletter by email from someone because I once did a bit of business with the company he works for. I got one today. This guy is called John McCarthy. Whenever I see Mr M's latest communication in my Inbox it makes me smile, because of another John McCarthy. More than that, it makes me think about what it means to be human.

Some years ago, I read a fantastic book by an Irishman called Brian Keenan. It was called "An Evil Cradling" and it described Brian's experience of being held as a hostage in Beirut for nearly five years. I can't recommend this book highly enough. It is beautifully written and describes an incredible journey which Brian made during this time to the very depths of his own psyche. It also refers extensively to the powerful bond which he forged with his fellow hostage, John McCarthy, and how they managed to help one another through their period of imprisonment.

Here is some footage from AlJazeera showing Brian Keenan revisiting Lebanon in 2007. He touches on the meltdown of his old persona which he experienced while being held in solitary confinement. I love his serenity and lack of rancour.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFuWkAYIca0

I was so struck by Brian Keenan's book that I went on to read both John McCarthy's account of his experience ("Some Other Rainbow," written with his then girlfriend, Jill Morrell, who campaigned tirelessly to keep the plight of the hostages in the media gaze) and a book which Brian and John wrote about a trip that they took together to Chile ("Between Extremes: A Journey beyond Imagination"). These are also terrific books.

One of the very striking things is that Brian and John were wildly different people, who would probably not have got on well had they met in "real life." Keenan is the passionate, imaginative, highly intellectual Irish guy. McCarthy is the archetypal cool, laconic Englishman who liked to appear not to take anything too seriously. However, their relationship was extraordinary. They loved each other to pieces and it is proably fair to say that they saved one another's lives.

Here is John McCarthy speaking about the beginning of his capitivity:

http://www.jla.co.uk/show-video/uploads/video/McCarthyJohn?i=%2Fuploads%2Fimages%2FMcCarthyJohnVT.jpg

and finally here is a very moving interview he gave about his experiences:

http://www.enlightennext.org/magazine/j26/finding-freedom.asp?page=2

The interview isn't long and it's well worth reading in full. However, this strikes me as being a key passage:

"[INTERVIEWER]: In your book you describe how the phrase “choose joy” became a motif between yourself and Brian—a way that you would uplift each other during the hardest times. How did you “choose joy” in the midst of such desperate circumstances?

McCARTHY: I think it largely came out of the realization of the simple wonder of being alive. It often came in the simple celebration, with Brian, of our shared humanity. This experience—of sharing life with somebody, even in the dire extremes of that form of captivity—was in itself a reason to live. Even observing the humanity of the guards, although at times it was a cruel humanity, had a huge value. And there was a joy in seeing how one could choose to be undaunted in the most frustrating and frightening times—something so simple, pure, and alive! The purpose of living, in that extreme circumstance, was simply to live, to experience, and to share what one could. So sometimes, when we should have been weeping or gibbering in the corner with fear and despair, we would be rolling around the floor in hysterical laughter—and it wasn't neurotic, mad laughter, but a sheer delight in being human beings thinking ourselves out of the box. "

How to be British, part 2: Be a bit of a character

Tue, 16 Jun 2009 07:06:11 -0400

.... this is partly an experiment in using the embedding feature.

Beth suggested I post some footage of Barbara Windsor and Red Rum, both of whom appeared in my last post.

In fact, they are both great examples of Rule 2 in the unwritten "How to be British" manual. You've got to be a bit of a character.

It wasn't enough for Red Rum to win the Grand National three times. No, he had to be trained by a second hand car dealer who kept him in a stable behind the showroom and exercised him on the beach. He also had to win his first National in classic "underdog triumps from miles behind" stylee.

Here's his obituary from the BBC archive:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yR6R0V1ycQM&feature=related

and here he is winning the 1973 Grand National. (It's worth bearing in mind that Crisp, who came in second, was a truly great horse).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oiGaX0d_Pjk

As for Babs, she's what Tijo would call a Glamazon Warrior. Here she is this April. She admits to being 71 years old.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHsXWj3XH_Q

And here she is in the 1960s in a famous scene from one of the cringe making "Carry On" films. The exercise instructor is played by her gay best friend, Kenneth Williams. Babs famously married a well-known gangster called Ronnie Knight then went on honeymoon with Ronnie, Kenneth and Kenneth's mum. She is now married to a bloke who is 25 years younger than she is.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0J9FdN8oqA

How to be British, part 1: love Dizzee Rascal

Mon, 15 Jun 2009 10:06:28 -0400

A couple of days ago my daughter told me that she really liked Lily Allen and Dizzee Rascal because their lyrics were "really funny in a typically British kind of way."

I'm not a big fan of our Lily, so we'll draw a veil over that, but I immediately got what she meant. Lily specialises in a particular sort of British moaniness which is instantly recognisable. However, I hadn't thought of Dizzee as typically British until the girlchick pointed it out. But indeed he is and we love him for this sort of Ian Dury style lunacy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b94beDQQtWI

This set me thinking about some other artists from the same genre (UK grime) and yep, they're funny too. Here's Wiley with some foxy ladies:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dnezldGu7JU

Even the most mainstream UK grime artists are a bit funny. I'm not sure why I find this video by Tinchy Stryder ft N-Dubz hilarious, but I do:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tc7W8Q-g9Lg

Perhaps I just find it entertaining that Tinchy called his single "Number 1" (and yes, that's where it got to in the UK chart). My gay American friend Eric tells me that the key thing for understanding us Brits is appreciating The Importance of Not Being Earnest (that's to say, pretending to be very modest and laugh at yourself), so perhaps that's why Tinchy and Wiley are telling us that the ladies have got them whipped. This feels quite self deprecatingly funny after all the macho posturing of urban music.

However, of the three it is definitely Dizzee who is quintessentially British. I'm not sure why, but he's well on his way to national treasure status, right up there with Barbara Windsor and Red Rum. I'd love some transatlantic feedback on why that is ...

Oranges are not the only fruit: a Prop 8 story

Thu, 28 May 2009 05:05:42 -0400

Last night a gay man cried in my arms about Prop 8.

"Well surely that's no surprise, you being an OS reader and all ...."

In fact, it wasn't what I expected at all when I left the house. I'm straight and I lead a very conventional life as a middle aged mum and businesswoman in a university city .... in England. However, the one thing I've learned about my life is that you couldn't make it up if you wanted to.

I try, not always very successfully, to put myself in other people's shoes. Often it's the small things that bring home what it must be like to be another person. Years ago my daughter had a thought-provoking children's book which posited a world in which roles were reversed. Black people were the master race and white people were slaves. One tiny detail hit home for me. Sticking plaster came in one colour only- black.

I found this so telling. In the UK sticking plaster comes in two types: fun plasters for kids which are typically silver with pictures of dinosaurs and flesh tone. Flesh tone plasters are various shades of orange. Most British people aren't orange. (A minority are, but luckily they live happy and fulfilled lives, with careers as personal trainers or games show hosts. One leading member of the orange community has even amassed a huge fortune by devising reality TV shows, thereby bringing joy to millions. Thank you for the music, Simon).

For most of the rest of us, including pale Celts like me, flesh tone plasters are a very crude approximation of our skin colour and look tacky. However, for the substantial minority of the population who are of Afro-Caribbean ancestry these little things don't say"we're all different" but "you're really different, mate, and the sticking plaster industry ain't meeting you halfway on this."

So back to last night and Prop 8.

I've been attending my Wednesday night activity for about ten years now. Dan is a much more recent arrival and had joined us twice before last night. The first time he told us nothing about himself. Second time round he disclosed that he lived in the US but was back in Britain for a while to sort out some business and that he was gay. (In fact he merely referred to his husband, but I'm very quick on the uptake).

Last night while we were clearing up coffee cups and stacking chairs he and I chatted about the very confusing traffic system in our city. Suddenly he said: "Can I dump something on you? I'm upset about something that happened in California." "Ah," I replied sagely "Prop 8?" (Like I said, I'm quick).

Then it all tumbled out- growing up in a country (ours) where being gay was still illegal, then waiting until you were nearly sixty to be told (again) that your love was in some way not real and true.

I tried to comfort him as well as I could. I won't repeat what I said; it was hardly original and feels private. I did tell him about my daughter's 14 year old friend who came out to his parents recently. His dad is a highly decorated ex-military man. Both parents are very supportive and proud of their boy, so something must be changing. (My daughter's friend is a very talented singer and dancer and has already had a major role in a West End musical- like I said, you couldn't make this up if you tried). For my daughter and her contemporaries, whether someone is gay or straight is as relevant to how you treat them as their eye colour or whether they can roll their tongue.

As I drove home I thought about another incident from a few weeks back. I was walking along the street in London with two other gay friends on a warm Spring night. They have been together for twenty years and are very happy. As they bumped along together, occasionally brushing shoulders, it suddenly struck me that any other people I knew who were this close would have linked arms or held hands. And I wanted to cry.

Freud slips past Aunty Beeb (with apologies to Gary Justis)

Wed, 27 May 2009 13:05:33 -0400

Gary Justis' beautiful and evocative post about his childhood and his aside about teenage swearing reminded me of a newspaper article which I read a while back.

(Gary's post was poetic and visually gorgeous so I'm ashamed that this is where it has lead my mind)

http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2002/nov/21/britishidentity.features11

For anyone who can't be bothered reading, it charts the decline of the word "fuck" in UK usage from being considered truly offensive by many in the 1950s to being everyday coinage now.

The last paragraph made me laugh as it refers to middle class (i.e. professional) parents who would rather their children said "fuck" than "toilet" (because saying "toilet" marks you out as lower class, the "correct" usage being "lavatory" or "loo"). It's no joke- I'm on very good terms with my ex-husband, with whom I have a 14 year old daughter. Her dad goes nuts if she says "toilet" but I have never heard him pull her up for swearing (including saying "fuck").

The BBC banned the use of the F word until fairly recently. (The corporation's general prissiness prompted its long time nickname "Aunty Beeb"). However, that didn't stop the late raconteur Clement Freud from telling the following joke on air in the 1970s, which plays on the fact which underlies the fuck/toilet paradox, i.e. that even back in the day, use of the word fuck was much more acceptable in well-to-do circles than it was among the hoi polloi.

"Last week I went to a civic reception in Scunthorpe [small town in the north of England]. Prince Charles was the guest of honour and I was surprised to see that he was waring a Davy Crockett hat. I asked him "Is there some significance to the headgear, sir? and he said "Oh, it was Mummy's idea. I told her I was going to Scunthorpe and she said 'Oh, wear the fox hat, then.'"'