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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required for Ronald Hindmarsh-Midwood (24.O5.30 - 17.01.92) To recall a friend is never an adieu he has merely stepped across the landing the light still beams the door's ajar you can hear him pacing humming swinging the windows to let the street in the warmth the wind ruffled through his half-opened shirt Across the spare digs halfway to the Schloss austere in the shaded light slanting on drab curtains the bare table rough-hewn the dishevelled books the gaping porcelain jug and still wet basin the whiff of fresh-bitten soap the close shave and the stiff white collar excusing the day-old striped shirt A gentle tap the door opens to a glass of port cut bread and even if you will not cheese "Beware! Beware you don't become an Hasbeen!" he made no bones of his luck from stipends through Reading the wideopen eyes commisserating through the flailing sheaf fallen on his ample brow the hand ever brushing aside that wilful unconcern in your life in your little worries your mishaps And you knew you had mattered in his life To recall a friend is to give body to form to words that bind muscle to bone those mutual moments You may come back a quarter of a century later And he is still there a trifle stumped by your aged face the mutual moments flow without break You had driven through four sleepless nights your eyes peeled beyond weariness your mind bristling and in the red "Take care! Take care", he said, "lest you burn both ends!" Other worlds other duties keep you from bringing up his face keep you from keeping mementoes: "Never excuse, never apologise!" yes you might have penned a word when the stolid face swung back you didn't for that would've been abrupt too flippant unceremonious requiring tact So you turn up à l'improviste the mutual moments flow over coffee at the Konditorei the same cream curtains the same goldbraided periodlike chairs over neatly folded ceremoniallike lace the irreal flood of filtered light outside no more the tug and grating pull of trams to dull your words Again the same attentive stare the same empathic vigil for your fresh worries for your private imbroglios while he foregoes a meal at the mensa Only you hadn't known nor suspected the stealthy pain gnawing away at the bones nor did he let it be shown Only the stoic face and the pained look for your own blasé pain © T.Wignesan, July 4, 1992 [from the collection: back to background material, 1993] Published as a "Preface" to Ronald Hindmarsh's commemorative writings: Mr. Hindmarsh is not writing a book. Heidelberg: Department of English, 1993. Ronnie taught English at Heidelberg University when I first met him, during the summer semester, in 1957.
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