Margaret Thatcher was buried today. After a week of fond remembrances, and the occasional disparagement of those who did not see her in a kindly light.
“Speak not ill of the dead!”
Why not? Many people saw Magaret as a great leader. Many saw her as a blight on their lives. Maggie is gone but the blight carries on through generations. So pay your respects, but respect those who gave much, and received little.
I must confess that I believe she did a fair job as Prime Minister. Eastern Europe and the Falklands count in her favour. Yes, she saw the reasons for not supporting dying industries. Their time was past. But she, and her successors (of any shade) brought little aid, and less encouragement, to replace that which had to go. Prosperity is not making the well off even wealthier, ‘commonwealth’ means ‘common good’
I remember my mother talking about Winston Churchill. A great leader by any standards, and truly the man for the job during the 2nd World War. A Prime Minister with more claim to history than even Maggie. She appreciated all that he did for Britain, and the World. But her first thought was always of the man who sent the soldiers in to face down the striking miners. Forgive, perhaps, but never forget.
Maggie Thatcher does not need my praise, or my condolence. I keep that for the unloved, the unwanted, and the eternally lost. As the founder of the ‘Judas Iscariot Fan Club’, I care for those that will never receive a eulogy. Judas was the ‘most loved’ of all the Disciples. Would you take the part required of you, if it would make you the most hated person ever? He did. Give him credit for that. And in the old, clichéd cowboy films that I watched as a youth, who cared when the fat, greasy Mexican bandit was shot? Only me. The bandido was never, ever going to get the chance to be a good guy. His destiny was to get shot in the gut (the obvious target on a fat Mexican), and die painfully. We are more civilised these days. We would never characterise fat people as undeserving, would we … ?
So when it is my turn to shuffle off, will I be having a last-minute change of heart … and a eulogy?
No way!
We have a wonderful tradition in our family. When someone dies, we call in a professional speaker. Everybody chips in with their recollections, and the life of the recently deceased is recalled for all the family. Good bits, bad bits, warts and all – and the odd cliché! For those used to the more usually good thoughts and wonderful bits, it can be a real eyebrow raiser. My mother had a true recollection, as did my father. I have a copy of the speeches. The make uncomfortable reading, in places, but they are exactly as I remember.
And when it is my turn, I would have it no other way. Speak not a eulogy, but a true recollection of a soul.
One day, you may read the speech they wrote for me. Prepare to raise an eyebrow, or draw a sharp intake of breath.
And remember me as I truly was …
In case this gives you any ideas, forget it. I’ll be around for a good few years to come …