2019, and the start of my new book...#1

How to live well without Gods
This is a (sort of...) response to a book that my younger brother managed to finish writing, just before he died, of Motor Neurone Disease, back around Easter 2017 (Amazon - How to die well without god (pay special attention to the lower-case 'g'. It's 'god', not 'God')). It is certainly not a critique of his book, as I consider that he was most likely far better read than I am, in many different areas, so if I were to start to get into any psychoanalysis of his book, I would probably do him (and me) an injustice. The points of his book - well, two of them, at least - are (1) that he was dying, and (2) he was a non-believer. From out of nowhere, he went down with MND. What the hell? How...? And then the obvious 'Why?' stuff...
I have to admit that my exposure to MND was limited. Professor Stephen Hawking probably being the best known, there were others - I had heard of Lou Gehrig, some years before, in the USA, but little else. It was one of those things that affected one in a...hundred million? Who knows what the numbers are, when you don't pay attention to it?
Then you get told that your baby brother (the baby of the family!) has somehow contracted this thing? Well, that's a bummer! And then I made an initial assumption that he'd do a Hawking (not knowing any better, at the time), and be cared for, and be around for the next few decades. And then you find out that there are a few different 'types' of this thing (WTF?), and my brother just had to go and get the worst of the lot - the most aggressive. Bum-MER! And then you are told that this 'most aggressive' type may mean he has two years to live! ...WT absolute F...?
Let's step back a little here. Pause for breath...
Over the years, I have done quite a bit of my Family Tree, and got lost many a time down obscure branches that I didn't even know about! We lost our mum back in 1997. She was very nearly 80, so well done, mum! We then lost dad just 5 years ago (2014) at the grand old age of 98. That was after he had remarried - at 82 - and then outlived his second wife! Damn good! We rock! He had a brother and sister (my uncle and aunt) and they both made it into their nineties - pretty damn good (We still rock, but now, even more so!)! My aunt made 95. Their dad before them was 88, and HIS dad was 80, so I was anticipating that all of us were going to be good to get a message from the King, in a few years, congratulating all of us on turning 100. A nice idea, and now one that isn't going to happen. How does the baby of the family (there are older cousins, all in their 70's, and then there is us - the youngest branch of the family) get to be the one who bites the dust first? This literally makes no sense!
And that's it, really. It doesn't make any sense. It's not SUPPOSED to make any sense! There is no 'Grand Plan', some deity-inspired path that each of us is supposed to take, with this same 'deity' watching over us - every minute, of every day (does that sound just more than a little creepy...?). We are all random life-forms, floating on a random globe, in some random, obscure part of a massive Universe. We are not special, we don't belong as a part of any 'Big Picture', and we don't have any hot line to any Deity (whichever one you may choose to follow). Common sense should be telling you this (Common sense and Faith...like pouring petrol on a fire - you'll get burned!).
So I started to put this little tale together, in my own small way, to add to the concept that my brother started with his book. It is fine to be able to describe that you should be able to die well, without a god, but you should also be able to LIVE well without having some deity getting into your hair, on your back, every day, and in every way just messing with you and your life! You should be able to dress as you like, talk to who you like, when you like, you should be able to eat what you like, you should basically be able to live your life as YOU like, not as you are being told to, by some self-appointed religious 'leader', who may well have degrees in this and that, but that does not make them RIGHT!
My brother had been, for some years, a non-believer - in anything and everything of the 'Godly' type. He is quite scathing, at times, in the book, but was always well behaved, and quite happy to know local vicars and priests - it might be that his approach was 'if you have a faith, so be it, but just don't expect me to be lining up to follow you...no, seriously, just do not'! and you'd better be able to put up a very good case for your religious assumptions...
My brother and I had a very similar childhood. He was only some 14 months younger than me, so we were at the same schools, just one year apart. We went to the same church, sang in the same choir, and generally had a great family upbringing. A very solid father and mother, who worked extremely hard at just keeping everything together. You understand this a little better when you grow up and start your own family...the amount of sheer hard work that they managed to do to keep it all together...amazing people. I could probably critique some aspects of the ways that my parents raised us (well, me and Rob) but why? They were as much a victim of circumstance as we were - to try to find (and expose) their faults helps no-one, and they don't deserve the insult. They literally did the best that they could, and I sometimes wish that they were still here, so that we could continue some of those conversations - but no. That will have to wait.
My father, in particular, was a massively under-accomplished musician. He was running the school orchestra when he was 12, playing the violin. He and his brother won music awards for their singing, and all through my growing years I knew that dad was busy with various shows in the town centre. He was performing, singing, conducting (the choir, the orchestra, and assembled cast - depending on the scenario) and yet somehow little of that was passed on to any of the four children. I'm still at a loss to understand that. Given such raw talent, how did the 4 children all pass it by? Mum was a reasonable piano player, and she sang for some years, so how the heck has it skipped us all?
I dunno....
Rob and I have two older sisters, 6 and 7 years older than me, so they were teenagers while Robert and I were still in junior school, and they were out at work while we went to the Secondary Modern School, in Winton, Bournemouth. To say that I didn't enjoy school is too simplistic. There were good times, and there were bad times.
I was not too impressed with most of the teachers, but some just shone, head and shoulders above the rest. Yes, Mister Loosemore, that's you! And Mr Tansey and Mr Reeve.
Going back to our roots, I can see that we followed our parents into their church. At the age that we were, I refuse to even consider that we were making our own mind up! That's just...ridiculous to even consider! So we went to church (Church of England) and joined the choir, around eight years of age (presumably Robert joined a year later, but after all of this time, it's sometimes difficult to be too accurate) and generally enjoyed it. It was a 'good' experience (again, neither of us were in any way involved in the running of the place, or the politics that must have taken place, but generally those years were...'good' ones). We were both in the cubs, and then the Scouts, and then somehow the Youth Club. I enjoyed the camps, and the leaders were exceptionally able.
It clearly took some time, but Robert and I both eventually realised the same conclusion, but by taking, I believe, very different routes. Mine was a more basic route, whereas Robert clearly knew what he was talking about, and could respond to any faith-based discussion points with hard evidence.
I think my path took me some years to even acknowledge - I acknowledge, now, that I have been a non-believer for the last 45-50 years (yes, I am that old). It's one of those things that, when I left school, I moved away from home, and moved away from the home church, but even then I felt no urge to search out my new local congregation. I came to London, and was caught up with a whole new set of things. My new job, trying to find flats and places to live, eventually finding someone and marrying them, starting a family...all of this took my full concentration, and as my religious 'ties' were now increasingly further behind me, I felt no compulsion to pick them up again.
My first wife happened to be from a Jewish family, and there was talk at the start of whether I would convert. It was clear to all that any such conversion would amount to a sham, and I didn't like that, at all. I don't, as a rule, enjoy the idea of lying to people. Everyone knew my non-faith background, and for me to have to say that I wanted this conversion to Judaism was just peer pressure, so I had to put my foot down and refuse - politely, of course.
Before anyone gets on whatever they may hold to be a 'high horse', I have no issues with meeting Jewish people, Christian people, Islamic people...I have even met Zoroastrians, Buddhists, and probably a ton of others. It does not matter! I will judge you for yourself, not what some archaic ideology (that, sadly, you may feel moved to follow) may dictate. I expect the same in return. I do not consider myself a bad person, and yes, I have made mistakes in the past (and please do not start getting on some soap box, drivelling on that YOU haven't...whatever the reason, we have all made mistakes), but it seems to me that there are a great number, around the world, who can only be classed as bad - perhaps monstrous; certainly mad...? I'd like to think otherwise, but the evidence is stacking up against these psychopathic monsters.