Wednesday 21 September 2011

Jubilee Line over Jordan

A person has gone under the train at Euston.

This is part of urban life. Sometimes delays are due to signal failure. Occasionally it's a person ending. There are about fifty a year.

The announcement is made at every station for the benefit of passengers who have just boarded to explain the snail's progress we are making down the track.

Most people take on a look of sympathy and mild horror. Then after a few minutes of waiting, sadness is swallowed up in impatience.

Shadows of this life. 
A pair of women across from me talk about retiring to Spain. One says the the kitchen re-modelling is taking longer than she would have hoped. You can get used to the food, says the other.

A cowardly part of me wishes that I could do this too: forget about death given enough vitamin D and ease.

A person has gone under the train at Euston: that  concrete tomb in perpetual motion. Where young people have arrived for decades seeking fortune and ruin in the smoke. Steel track and the dust of dreams trod on lightly by blackened mice.

I wish the train driver would name him.

In 2007 a little boy called Peter Connelly was beaten to death by his stepfather. The newspapers didn't name Peter for 'legal reasons'. Peter became known simply as 'Baby P'. This really bothered me because all that remains of the dead are their names. It seems sacrilegious not to name them.

The sound of a name doesn't matter much, be it Harper Seven or Bog Standard Pete. A name matters because it is the first thing you are given, and the last thing you'll ever have.

A person has gone under the train at Euston. My train driver doesn't know his name. Neither does the poor guy who hit him.

I'm guessing he was a he. Perhaps he was a she. Maybe it was an accident. Who knows? Either way, I wish I had the name.

19 comments:

  1. Such a tragic loss of life. Names are so important, they are our personal identity through this life.

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  2. Very poignant, and so very sad. I remember far too many of those tragic incidents on my commute into town, and I always felt sad as those around me cursed as they would be late for work.

    You are such a talented writer, I hope you know that! Emma

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  3. That's an interesting and powerful bit of writing. It brings up the question "what's in a name". I remember having a discussion in our adoption classes about names. I am more interested in the story than the name funnily enough.

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  4. Thank you! The stories behind names can be fascinating. I can't wait till my girls are old enough to wonder about these sorts of things, and ask me why the heck we named them what we did...I just hope my sleep-deprived brain can remember by them :)

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  5. You are too kind Emma, thank you. I find every one of these heartbreaking, glad I'm not alone. Work has such a powerful hold over people - amazing that they can worry about being late in the face of death like that.

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  6. Amen sister, we must carry them with pride :)

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  7. I've just linked back to this from my latest post - I hope you don't mind.

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  8. This is so sad and you are right names are so important. My boys are named after people I love

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  9. It's really sad to see how inhumane and self-absorbed people can be...

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  10. What a great piece of writing.. a name matters because it is who you are... I just hope it wasn't an accident and they fell.....

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  11. Thank you FP :)

    Accidents sadly do happen. Not hard to see why: on most platforms the only barrier between humans and trains is a thin yellow line.

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  12. Tis sad. You can meet some pretty emotionally callous people on trains.

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  13. Lovely post! Great to look at it from another perspective :)

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  14. What a sad, sad post, and it's true it is a part of urban life, albeit a horrible one.
    What you said about names really touched a nerve with me because I've been considering changing my Boy's name for practical reasons (I wrote a post about it in august:http://moomser.blogspot.com/2011/08/name-dilemma.html).
    I think though that with this sentence: "A name matters because it is the first thing you are given, and the last thing you'll ever have." you may have made my decision a little easier, his name was the first thing I gave him, it's important, and I'm afraid to change it lest it change his "life" in a way. He may have a hard time with it, people may not know how to pronounce it, but it's his, it's the only real choice we get to make as parents for our children, it's our gift to them. So thanks for reminding me that names are important. Sorry about the tangent.

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  15. Oh, and you do have to wonder about that person: What happened? Who did they leave behind? Who were they?

    Bibsey was named after Mr B's Grandma with whom he was very close. Her middle name I gave her... and I have no idea why. It just kept on coming to me. Maybe one day she will live up to in such a way that it will all become clear.

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  16. I always wonder who their mum is, and if they left any children behind.

    Ana's second name also comes from her Papa's Grandma, to whom he was very close. Such a lovely feeling to carry on a good name.

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  17. Thanks for your comment - your boy has a beautiful name. I feel your pain on the mispronunciation/misspelling front. I think that's just something we have to put up with having not named our kids common names. But I'm sure he'll wear it with pride as he gets older, especially as it connects him to his heritage, and to his lovely parents.

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  18. Lovely post - despite its sad trigger.

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