Forced to admit that the past is…well, past
Here in the UK, well-known radio presenter Steve Wright recently passed away. It’s fair to say that a sizeable chunk of the population is in mourning.
Steve Wright has been a part of most peoples’ lives; broadcasting his popular afternoon show on BBC Radio 2, the channel that you’ll find emanating from the radios in shops, garages, hair salons, building sites, cafes, and a million cars and trucks zipping up and down the motorway.
In my days of long-distance caravan towing, Steve Wright would keep me and countless millions of other lone people company.
What I enjoyed most about his programme was the production values; the attention to detail. There were never, ever any gaps or awkward silences during the show. Everything was timed to the second to run seamlessly, with a fluidity that was so utterly perfect that you could be forgiven for not even noticing it. For some it was his banter, for some it was his humour, for some it was his razor-sharp brain, but for me it was Steve’s outstanding level of radio craftsmanship that attracted me to his work.
Despite his phenomenal popularity, the BBC moved on. Steve’s show was axed, and Steve was replaced with a younger presenter. Then at the age of 69, Steve died. That’s way too young.
Fans the world over are now in mourning for Steve, and their loss expresses itself in many ways, such as sadness, anger, grief, and hopelessness.
I wonder if part of the reason that so many people are struggling with Steve’s passing is because it’s not just about an incredibly talented radio presenter who died, it’s forcing us to admit that our past is over. The past has gone. We’re all getting older and we will never get our past back.
We attach so much to our past - our identity, our memories - and this helps us maintain perspective and evolve in the present day.
Almost everyone has a memory that they attach to Steve Wright. It might be singing along in the cab of their lorry. It might be washing a client’s hair in fits of laughter listening to one of Steve’s comedic characters. It could be the elation that a grandmother felt when Steve read her name out. It could be simply the way that Steve filled the void of loneliness on an otherwise empty day.
For me, it will always be towing my Airstream along the A5 in Wales and hearing Relator by Pete Yorn and Scarlett Johanssen for the first time, a song that became the theme tune to that particular part of my life at the time.
With Steve now gone, these days are firmly in the past. We will never, ever be able to recreate those days and how we felt back then. We have to admit to ourselves that we are getting older, and our past is gone. We can hold on to it as much as we can, but ultimately it is gone and Steve’s passing forces us to face up to it.
Day to day life, the most important aspect of our lives, will never be the same again. And that’s what really hurts.
Purpose and Relevance
Many folks are speculating that one of reasons - or possibly the main reason - that Steve passed was because, having had his flagship show axed, he had lost his purpose and his relevance.
A sense of purpose and relevance are, in my opinion, essential for each of us. One theme I bang on about ad nauseam is how too many people die at too young an age, in the hope that I can incentivise the rest of us to live our lives fully and with gratitude every single day. We all know people who pass away shortly after retirement. It could be argued that without purpose or relevance, we quickly simply fade away.
Purpose and relevance doesn’t necessarily have to be on a global or national level. It could be to just a few people, such as a your friends or your community. It’s worth spreading our relevance to more than one person though. How many loving partners die in quick succession of each other? Without purpose and relevance, there is nothing left.
Processing Steve Wright’s death has helped me understand my own recent massive life change.
No longer needed
I now realise that my recent life change started almost two years ago in May 2022. I was in Kent walking the dogs, and I can place exactly where I was when I got the phone call.
A representative of the national organisation to which I had contributed for over 20 years, and had felt a part of, phoned me to tell me that my services were no longer required. Ostensibly the call was about the next event, but it turned out to be the end of everything meaningful that I’d been doing with the organisation. Quite simply, I was no longer relevant. Other people, younger people, cooler people, more relevant people were taking on the roles I used to enjoy.
Rather that give up at the first hurdle, I weathered the storm and managed to keep working. But gradually the work - together with my income, my purpose, and my relevance to the makers and shakers in the caravan and motorhome industry - waned.
I was starting to face a choice. I could either remain relevant in the caravan and motorhome industry and work for free or for peanuts, or I could look elsewhere to find somewhere where I could achieve the heady combination of purpose, relevance, and sufficient income to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly.
That choice came to a head in April 2023, when I realised that I was cripplingly lonely being so isolated and so far away from my family. I expended so much energy trying to make the whole thing work that I had absolutely nothing left in the tank. I was spent.
Back where I belong
Today, I’m back in a job where I have both purpose and relevance. It can be hard work, it can be extremely challenging at times, it’s very involved, it requires a huge amount of specialist skill and knowledge, but never a day goes by at work where I don’t feel that I have made a difference. It’s an incredibly rewarding job.
I don’t have to try to fit in at work, because the company I work for strives for - and achieves - a diverse and multi-cultural workplace where every single person fits in. My job now delivers purpose and relevance in abundance. Having been privileged and lucky enough to be able to go off and try something else then come back, I think I can safely say that I have never felt so settled, and so happy, in my entire life.
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Thank you.
Hi Andrew, how your post spoke to me….your words struck several chords with me & i can honestly say I was quite tearful by their meaning.
I am so pleased you are back doing a ‘relevant’ job that you obviously love, I wish you continued happiness in your new/old (?!) venture. It’s lovely to feel wanted, needed & that you’re accepted.
For myself, well, I have been retired far longer than I care to remember due to ill health & there are many days where I feel useless & can no longer contribute. That was until my recent uplift, I was asked by my niece (who is expecting twins - first babies) if I could knit some little bootees. I was over the moon, to feel needed again, & my fingers haven’t stopped working…the bootees (several pairs) mittens, hats & cardigans for when they are a bit bigger & now on the way to crocheting the 1st blanket! I feel useful again & part of the ongoing living part of life.
Hope my ramblings haven’t gone on too long, just felt I needed to share that with you.
Once again, good luck, keep well (hope your fur boys won’t feel too lonely without you 🐶🐶😉)
Lynda 🌻
All the best for your future, it’s great to hear you have a spring back in your step, although I must admit on a personal note I do miss your YouTube vlogs, which like your post here are full of honesty
N&Ax