The poem I read was “A Ballad of John Silver” by John Masefield.
I’ve been trying to think of what to write here about Les and it’s not easy. I knew Les for ten years — how do squeeze something like that into a few sentences?
When I first met Les I was a little intimidated. Father of two daughters, rifle owner — a fearful combination! — local postmaster, very formal on the phone, and prone to get upset at young men who parked their cars in the wrong place outside his house. Or so I was told.
As I got to know him, though, it became obvious that this stern image was very far from his true personality. Living locally we would visit often, especially once the children were born. We spent many a Sunday afternoon in conversation, putting the world to rights. The abiding image of Les I will keep is of him flashing me a grin, his eyes lighting up as if to say “I can’t believe I’m getting away with this!” while he confided in me a youthful misadventure or his latest purchase that he was keeping secret from his wife, Sue.
Les believed in making the most of life. If you’re weren’t doing something or going somewhere then you were wasting the time you had. Whenever we would visit he would greet us with the question “So, what’d'ya know?”. Lack of an interesting development in your life was met with a grunt of disapproval. Les’ untimely death brings home how right he was.
Les, I promise to make the most of the time I have.