Kevin Gilmartin

Multimedia Journalist. Father. All-round geek.

Archive for the ‘family’ tag

Billy Wolfe: 1926-2010

leave a comment

Today I attended the funeral of Billy Wolfe.

I only knew him a little; he was a friend of my father-in-law for many years and he attended my wedding and both of my kids’ christenings. He was a lovely, lovely man. When we first started Planet Holyrood a few years ago he tried to get us in to the SNP spring conference. It didn’t happen, ultimately, but he tried, and he didn’t have to, and he did it simply because he could.

I wrote his obit on Caledonian Mercury last week. But an obit never does justice to the person concerned. Today’s funeral ceremony, though, did Billy justice.

It was the closest thing I think there’s ever been – at least in modern memory – to a Scottish state funeral.

There was a simple mass at St Ninian’s in Hamilton, said by his friend Father Bogan (possibly the most entertaining priest I’ve ever encountered – he was quoting TS Elliot ‘off the cuff’); the church bell tolled as Billy’s coffin was brought in, and a standard funeral mass was held.

Among the congregation were notable SNP figures. Fiona Hyslop and Nicola Sturgeon were present as was John Mason, MP for Glasgow East. But the mass, the chapel, was time for family. Billy’s granddaughter bravely completed a reading, and soon Father Bogan was telling tales of Billy’s exploits.

There was little mention of Billy’s political life throughout other than a few jokes about his pride at being at arrested whenever he went on Faslane CND marches. I think he enjoyed that. He used to park his car outside Maryhill police station before heading to Faslane – they always took him to Maryhill, and this way he could get home easily after a time in the cells.

I’m told he was most upset the day they took him to Greenock!

At the Crematorium in Holytown the crowd was five-fold, at least. I have never before been to a ticketed funeral – I likely never will again.

Billy’s coffin, wrapped in the Saltire he loved, was brought in. The SNP’s Mike Russell stood at the podium; on the right of the chapel, in the front row opposite the family, sat the Scottish Government. Well, not all of them, but a fair chunk: Alex Salmond, Nicola Sturgeon, John Swinney, Fiona Hyslop. John Mason, a Westminster MP, was there too.

Once the gathered throngs were seated and settled, the proceedings began.

Mike Russell spoke of Billy first as a friend, and second as a colleague. He spoke of Billy’s familiar New Year cards, “the last piece of Christmas post was always from Billy.” And he spoke of Billy’s last card, with a hand-written note on the back. It read “It’s all so different now, being an SNP member, with an SNP government, to what we did 40 years ago.”

Mike’s reply, one he had delivered before, was “Billy, we would not be an SNP government if not for what you did 40 years ago.”

Billy’s son, Patrick, and his daughter (Eileen or Sheila – I’m afraid I can’t recall which one) spoke at length of their memories of Billy and read some of his poetry. Poetry of which, I am privileged to say, I have been a recipient; he wrote one for Janice and I when we got married.

Following the family, it was the turn of friends. Specifically one friend – Michael Toner. My father-in-law.

Whenever Michael takes the stand you can be guaranteed that somebody will be embarrassed, but everybody will be laughing. He stood there, not 10 feet away from most of the Scottish Cabinet and said, “I’ll keep this brief, as I’m not a public speaker – as you can tell – and I’m not a politician either so you can be pretty sure that what I’m saying is thr truth.”

My mother law was embarassed. Everyone else laughed.

Michael ended his speech by announcing, “Billy died on the 18th, and on the 19th I submitted my application to join the SNP. Billy would have liked that – ‘ane oot, ane in’

But our First Minister is not a man to be outdone. Upon being introduced by Mike Russell he said “I have special dispensation from Michael to tell the truth today. Let me be the third person to welcome him to the SNP, and Billy would indeed have approved of ‘ane oot, ane in’ – fortunately for Michael the SNP has no such tradition of ‘last in, first oot.’

The FM read from Scotland Lives: The Quest for Independence, and recalled his last meeting with Billy. He quoted Father Bogan’s eulogy where he referred to Billy not as a conviction politician, but as a conviction human being. He closed by saying “it was said of John McLean that he could reconcile his actions with his conscience. So let it be said of Billy Wolfe.”

As I said at the beginning. I knew Billy Wolfe only a little, met him only a handful of times; but as I studied him over the last few weeks and heard stories from friends and colleagues, despite not seeing him face-to-face I feel like I’ve known him for many years. He was by all accounts a man of conviction and determination. He loved his Scotland second only to his family and he was quite simply, a good, kind man.

Whether or not you agree with his politics, whether or not you agree with Scottish independence, and all things considered, here was a man whose life’s work changed the face of Scotland and her politics for me, and my children; and that has changed the world we live in. How many of us go to our graves with that epitaph?

Damn few, an’ thir a deid!

Digg This
Reddit This
Stumble Now!
Buzz This
Vote on DZone
Share on Facebook
Bookmark this on Delicious
Kick It on DotNetKicks.com
Shout it
Share on LinkedIn
Bookmark this on Technorati
Post on Twitter
Google Buzz (aka. Google Reader)

Personal Thoughts on Euthanasia

4 comments

This post is something of a departure from the blog’s usually light-hearted, techie flavoured fare, but it’s something I find myself debating in my mind more and more.

Today a 57-year-old mother was handed a life sentence for the killing of her son with a lethal dose of heroin. She has been ordered to serve a minimum of 9 years.

Fair enough, you might say – that’s pretty standard for murder.

But Frances Inglis was no cold blooded killer. This wasn’t a shooting or a beating or a stabbing. She took her own son’s life out of love and her belief that – whether it was the case or not – he would not want to live on that way and had no real hope of recovery from severe, debilitating brain damage.

I’m not going to examine too deeply this particular case and the court’s judgement – it’s all online and in the news. But the principle of the thing – mercy killings, euthanasia, assisted suicide; call it what you will – is one I find my self struggling with more and more lately.

Reasonably, rationally, I think it should be legal. People should be allowed to die with a degree of dignity, surrounded by loved ones without fear of the reprisals visited upon those who help them. I think if I was living in constant pain, or was a daily burden on my family, I’d want to choose when to go.

I have loved ones who have told me that they would want to choose their own end if they were in the same position.

In some ways I can respect Frances Inglis’ for her decision.

She knew the consequences. She was already on bail for a failed previous attempt and must have known the full weight of the law would be brought to bear against her. The decision of whether or not to kill her own son must have been agonising; as a parent I cannot imagine having to think about that.

Here’s an extract from the analysis on BBC News:

Inglis, of Dagenham, who had denied murder and attempted murder, broke down in tears as she gave evidence saying she had “no choice” but to do what she did.

“The definition of murder is to take someone’s life with malice in your heart. I did it with love in my heart, for Tom, so I don’t see it as murder. I knew what I was doing was against the law.”

Inglis, who was wearing a green cardigan, sat quietly as the judge outlined her actions during her sentencing.

He called the case “highly unusual and very sad” and described Inglis as a “devoted mother” who was “highly regarded” for her work in the community.

One woman who had worked with her at a school for people with learning disabilities in Ilford when she was a learning support assistant, described Inglis as “loving, honourable and trustworthy”.

Tricky, isn’t it? And more than a little bit sad.

She doesn’t sound to me like the life-in-prison sort of killer you hear about on the news every other day.

I don’t judge Frances Inglis too harshly for what she did. I genuinely do not know if I could do it if a loved one asked me to help them to die, or if I felt that’s what they would want. I hope to God I never have to find out.

Digg This
Reddit This
Stumble Now!
Buzz This
Vote on DZone
Share on Facebook
Bookmark this on Delicious
Kick It on DotNetKicks.com
Shout it
Share on LinkedIn
Bookmark this on Technorati
Post on Twitter
Google Buzz (aka. Google Reader)

Written by Kevin

January 20th, 2010 at 10:56 pm

Looking back, looking forward.

leave a comment

January 14th 2010 was a bit if a mixed bag of emotions for me. As it happened it was the 4th anniversary of my old papa’s death. That’s what I called my grandfather on my dad’s side.

I’m not going to say too much about that, but I can’t let it go unmarked. He was a martial artist too and one of my over-riding memories of him is when he taught me about focussing strikes. He was a judo man (I’m a karate guy) and he used to say to me, “If you lift a man six inches off the ground, you put him back down for eight.” I have him to thank for my interest in the news and the world around me – he was ALWAYS watching the news. Seriously…ALWAYS.

As a kid it used to bug the crap out of me. News is boring when you’re wee, right? At least that’s what my son says when I’ve got News24 on, “Daddy, you’re watching boring stuff!”

My papa never met Layne, and I dearly wish he had lived to meet my kids. He missed his birth by just over a year, and I often picture him laughing and cooing over them. He used to stare at the babies in the family with his big gumsy smile and say thoughtfully and to nobody in particular “Ahhh, magic. Just magic!”

I loved him; still do. And I miss him every day.

My other grandad (we call him Pop) passed away the following year, just two weeks after my son was born. He never met Layne either, but the last time I saw him alive he told me he was proud to have another great-grandchild, and he could puff his chest out a wee bit further. I cannot tell you the comfort that memory gives me. But Pop’ll get his own post in March, and I’m starting to choke up, so enough about all that.

I said it was a mixed bag, didn’t I? I did.

It was also a day which brought something quite exciting.

Last week the Scottish (and a large section of the UK) media went a bit nuts when a chap called Stewart Kirkpatrick announced that he was launching a new online newspaper venture.

It launches on the 25th January – Burns Night – and will, apparently, be aimed at Scots the world over. There are whispers and rumours and all kinds of things, but nobody knows anything unless Stewart Kirkpatrick has told them.

Anyway, when the announcement was made I spent a morning tracking down an email address for Stewart and sent him a message asking for a bit of work experience once he gets up and running. And he emailed me back on Tuesday evening asking me to meet him for a chat.

We met up in Glasgow at 3pm on Thursday and had a chat and a cuppa tea, and the upshot of the thing was that I’m going in for 5 days from the 25th – 29th. Ruddy launch week! If I was a bit girlier I’d be going “squeeee” with excitement about now, but as I’m a 29 year old hairy-arsed* bloke I’m remaining a stoic sea of zen-like composure.

I would like to say more about the kind of chat we had, but given the veil of secrecy around Stewart’s whole venture I’m not going to say anything -  just in case I say something I shouldn’t.

I’ll blog more about it on the 26th.

*in reality my arse isn’t actually hairy. It’s freakishly smooth. Like a baby’s.

Digg This
Reddit This
Stumble Now!
Buzz This
Vote on DZone
Share on Facebook
Bookmark this on Delicious
Kick It on DotNetKicks.com
Shout it
Share on LinkedIn
Bookmark this on Technorati
Post on Twitter
Google Buzz (aka. Google Reader)

Written by Kevin

January 16th, 2010 at 11:33 am

Posted in Personal

Tagged with , ,