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On Your Marks!

 

 

The cakes and casseroles came and went.  And, if not always consumed, always commented on and complimented on.  That was one of the services provided by Clifton Maybank.  It was one of his routines, routines are what define us.  Now he was accepted.  Everyone knew where to go for help.  And Clifton tried to help everyone, it was in his nature.  He did not always succeed but that is the price to pay for being human.  In God’s image.

 

The ladies (they were always a collective) were gracious to him and still a little competitive for his affections.  It wasn’t just food – a new dress here, a different scent there.  They all wanted Clifton to admire them and, more importantly, to admire their standing.  Clifton did not deter them.  He knew it gave the ladies focus.

 

Clifton did not like the focus to be on him but he recognised that his needs were not foremost.  You sometimes have to put others before yourself.

 

No-one could pin-point which one of them thought of it first, said it first.  But once it was said, the rivalry began.

 

Clifton, the man with the open door was a closed book concerning his own family.  He was the one who visited the sick, the elderly, the lonely.  Clifton was the one with no visitors of his own.  Clifton had time for everyone.  Clifton had time on his side.

 

 

 

Festivals and Rituals

 

 

Clifton could deal with Christmas.  They had Christmas in Liverpool and it was much like everywhere else, even Heppleton.  Christmas traditions, despite disparity in economic conditions, were similar throughout the country.  Clifton had often noted, however, that it was the least fortunate who displayed the most signs – and sometimes garish signs – of Christmas.  The ones who could least afford it had the brightest lights.  They were the ones who paid the most in electricity bills.  They were the ones who contributed most to their communities.  Perhaps they were the ones who needed most hope.

 

Clifton always felt that Easter was the forgotten festival.  There were no lights and fewer superstitions.  To Clifton it was the most important time of the year.  It was the basis of all Christianity. So, all the donated chocolate eggs went to children’s homes.  Perhaps he should feel guilty about giving away gifts – but someone else had sacrificed a lot more at Easter so Clifton did not mind.

 

You should not have favourites, as a parent, as a teacher or as a priest.  But Daniel received the biggest Easter egg with strict stipulations.  Daniel had to share it with Kop.  Daniel was used to sharing.  He knew Kop did not belong to him really, that Uncle Cliff was sharing him.  It did not need to be said.  Daniel still did not talk much but he loved Kop and he loved Uncle Cliff, who still drove 60 miles there and 60 miles back on a weekly basis to talk to him, and to talk to Kop.  The greatest gift is that you can share your time.  Daniel knew about sharing, he had been taught that.

 

 

 

Mayday Mayday

 

 

If Clifton understood the traditions of Christmas and Easter, he did not understand the festivals and rituals of the countryside.  He was from Liverpool.  Clifton was a city boy, a Liverpool City FC boy.

 

They did not celebrate May Day at Anfield.

 

Nothing in a village, a parish, cannot be organised without a committee.  And committees need to have leaders.  It had always been Mrs Forbes.  Now it was uncertain who would inherit her reins.  So, they looked to their clerical leader.  They looked to Clifton Maybank.

 

Clifton dreaded it.  He was out of his depth.  He was not a country boy.

 

He just wanted the rest of them to take over, to let it be run as it always had.  Clifton was not insecure by nature but he was insecure about things he did not understand.  Clifton did, however, understand human nature despite his young years.  So, he gave others responsibility, he delegated and the ladies were flattered by his demonstration of faith.  All humans have pride.

 

 

 

PAN-PAN

 

A Sinking Ship

 

 

Traditions were important in rural communities and there was one which the villages of Heppleton, Five Acres, Pepperwaithe, Biddescombe and Thorley all took part in.  There was an admiration and pride amongst these villages that shared Clifton Maybank as their vicar. 

 

Admiration and pride often disguise other human emotions – there was also great rivalry.  Which village was the best at the oldest tradition?  Despite looking to Clifton Maybank for affirmation, if truth be known, they were at the top of his list of things he dreaded the most.  He couldn’t say, couldn’t say how much he disliked them.

 

Morris Men.

 

It was a country tradition and he was a city man.  A Liverpool man.  He found their rituals, their movements alien, and although he did not like to admit it to himself, he found it all rather effeminate.

 

However, the community loved them, the splendour, the costumes and the noise.  All the things Clifton hated.  Clifton understood sport, understood football but he just could not see the entertainment, could not see the point.  Morris dancing did not attract younger members so all the participants were well recognised and known.  Clifton did not have a choice.

 

So, Clifton Maybank approved the Morris Dancers.

 

Sometimes we have to make sacrifices.

 

 

 

Roger Wilco

 

 

It is a priest’s duty to keep the peace.  So, Clifton Maybank agreed to the Morris Dancers, agreed to the folk music, the face painting, the bric-a-brac stalls.  Keeping the peace.

 

Clifton knew it was coming.  Even with his limited knowledge of May Day he knew it centred around the pole.  It would centre around the centre of Heppleton, the Green.  Clifton also knew that it involved white, the colour of purity.  It involved ribbons of bright colours in contrast to the outfits of the maidens, the traditional maidens.  It also involved dancing and it involved fun but most of all it was about traditions.

 

Committees bored Clifton.  He preferred to act on his own impulses and make decisions accordingly so he was barely listening.  Clifton simply nodded his approval when asked.  He wasn’t listening.

 

It was agreed then.

 

Clifton was not sure what he had agreed to.

 

Clifton Maybank would be the judge of the May Day Queen.

 

It was worse than the Morris Men.

 

 

 

Get Set!

 

 

Every woman in the parish, the churches surrounding Heppleton had a daughter, a granddaughter, a niece that they wanted to be the May Day Queen.  Every woman had a daughter, a granddaughter, a niece that could possibly be Clifton Maybank’s wife.

 

The rules were not spoken but they were understood.  All the girls were meant to be dressed the same, symmetry.  The devil was in the detail.

 

Highlights and lowlights.  White dresses all.  Some looked like virginal brides, others showed the cleavage of their sex.  Different looks.  Some were demure, some less so.  Different tacts for the same purpose – to win him round.

 

It was not just outfits.  There was also the dancing.  Secret lessons, coaching.  All is fair in love and war.  All the ladies, the Mothers, the Grandmothers, the Aunts wanted their prodigies to shine so they all danced the same dance to the same tune – they just didn’t realise it.  They wanted to win but they did not share the vision of the big prize.

 

They were not in love with Clifton Maybank.

 

He was not in love with any of them.

 

 

 

GO!

 

The Starting Pistol

 

 

 

Aunt Evelyn did not believe in Sandra.  Nobody believed in Sandra.  Sandra did not believe in Sandra.

 

Sandra was plump and uncoordinated.  But what she lacked in grace, she made up for in effort.  Sandra tried her best.

 

Within a heartbeat Clifton knew.

 

Many were disappointed.  Many a Mother, a Grandmother, an Aunt.  Many could not understand his decision or his direction.

 

Clifton was judgemental.  He was the judge and a judge judges’ values.  That was the true value of a queen – a May Queen.

 

So, when he picked her there was surprise and there was disappointment.

 

Sandra had never experienced recognition.  She recognised the value of her crown and she wore her crown with pride.  She was crowned the May Queen.

 

She was the one who has been picked, selected by Clifton Maybank.

 

Sandra won the prize, but she did not want to be his prize.

 

She was not.

 

Sandra’s eyes were elsewhere, on the eyes of someone who barely noticed her every day.  But this was not every day.  This was May Day.  All eyes were on Sandra, including his.  The girls resented her, resented the decision but, for this one day (this special day) Rodney looked at her.  It was just a smile to an unconfident, chubby girl who for one day was the May Queen, the Queen Bee.

 

Rodney asked her to dance.  She thought she would explode.  Sandra knew it was only for one day.  Tomorrow would be normal and she would be forgotten.  But for one day he smiled at her and held her in his arms.

 

The life of a Mayfly.

 

 

 

Flare Gun

 

 

You shouldn’t have favourites, not if you are a parent, a teacher and especially not if you are a priest.  Clifton’s Mother was unexceptional.  She was unexceptional because she was just like any other Mother – caring, providing, nurturing.  She loved both her sons.  She didn’t have a favourite.  They were very different and she loved them in different ways.

 

She had not spoken to Clifton in four years.  She did not answer his letters.

 

Her name was Sandra.

 

 

Dot Dot Dot – Dash Dash Dash – Dot Dot Dot

 

 

How can you be at the centre, the centre of the Maypole and be so much on the outside, the periphery.  Clifton enjoyed seeing people happy, he enjoyed making them happy.  He had many failings, as all humans do, but envy was not one of his.  He genuinely wanted peace for all, and of course, for himself.  Deflection.  If he could not be happy, he would strive to make others so.

 

Clifton had been happy.  He had a caring, providing, nurturing home.  He had a loving Mother, a strong Father and an older brother who he idolised.  Anthony had had a trial for Liverpool and had been on their youth team.  Injury stopped his career but Clifton had enjoyed the minor celebrity that had rubbed off on him – feeling part of the accepted community.

 

Then Clifton had let them down.

 

They could not forgive him.

 

The Maybanks were not particularly religious but when Clifton expressed his interest in theology, they encouraged him.  Parents encourage the vocations of their children.  So, they embraced his religion in the same way that they had embraced Anthony’s love of football.

 

Clifton therefore assumed that his family would embrace everything about him.  It was the way that he had been brought up.  It was an understanding.  He thought, because they had embraced his love of God, they would embrace his love of man.

 

They could not.

 

 

 

Emergency Back Up

 

 

Clifton was twenty-nine when he told them.  Not one member of his family had spoken to him or contacted him since.  He wrote every week.  He never got a reply.

 

Clifton did not understand.  His family had always been so loving, his brother had set such a good example, yet they did not understand.

 

Clifton Maybank told his family he was gay.

 

He was a May Day Queen.

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