REMEMBERING JOHN RENWICK (UPDATED)...

John Renwick in his church office in the mid-'80s

On my answerphone is a message which I haven't yet erased - and I'm not sure I ever will.  As long as it's there, I can listen to it every so often and it's almost like he's still alive and left it only mere moments ago.  Sadly, however, he isn't, having died from cancer at the far too young age of 60 (or thereabouts), leaving a widow - Irene, and two grown-up children - John Anthony and Deborah.  The knowledge that I'll never again get to speak with him is a sad and sobering thought.

JOHN RENWICK was a minister I met in April or May of 1978 when I was a mere callow youth of 19.  (John was in his late 20s at the time, which is far younger than I am now.)  I attended his church one night, being at a loose end - and because free tea and biscuits had been advertised for after the service.  Free scoffs?  Lead on, MacDuff.

Gordon Shields (another minister), me, and John in 1978 or '79

John, originally from the Edinburgh area, had relocated to my home town sometime in the '70s (I think) and didn't stay too far away from me.  Subsequently, I would often drop in on him for a game of darts or chess (and sometimes even both), and we would sit and discuss the merits of the JAMES BOND movies and whether any singer ever had a smoother, more velvety voice than country crooner JIM REEVES.

Sometime in the late '80s or early '90s, John and his family moved to Stirling.  I spoke to him on the 'phone every so often, and on occasion met with him and Irene when they were back to visit various other friends they had in the area.  He often invited me over to his new home, and equally as often I promised to visit - but somehow the years raced away without me ever doing so, despite my best intentions.

John and me playing darts around '81/'82 - in a rather camp manner it appears, in my case

Then one day a mutual friend told me that John had been receiving treatment for bowel cancer.  I 'phoned him when I heard the news, to express my concern and to ask after him.  Somehow I got the impression that he was over the worst of it, and would make a full recovery, and if John knew or suspected otherwise he never let on to me.  (Unless, of course, I was just too obtuse to pick up on it.)

One afternoon, in 2010, John 'phoned - I missed him by the merest of seconds, but after listening to my answerphone, I called him right back and we nattered away for about 20 minutes or so, with John once again inviting me to visit and me once more promising to do so at the earliest opportunity.  I'm sure you know where this is going.  Sadly, John died not too long after, without me ever getting the chance to keep my word.  It's only now, with hindsight, that I wonder if he knew his days were numbered and the call was his way of saying goodbye in case we never got to meet again.

Poor quality photocopy of a pencil sketch of John, circa 1980/'81

What can I say?  Time flies by so quickly that it seemed John had only moved two or three years before, rather than the 20 or so it actually was.  I wish I'd made more of an effort now - had managed to get on a train and journeyed to Stirling to visit John and his family, instead of feeling guilty for missing an opportunity which is now forever lost to me.

Maybe one day I'll eventually get to make that journey and visit Irene.  And if so, I'm sure John will be there too, in spirit at least, to welcome me as I finally fulfil the promise I made to him all those years ago.

 

John and me in his church office in the mid-'80s

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Update: Sadly, on the 30th November 2014, I discovered that John's answer-phone message was inadvertently wiped after I unplugged my telephone to facilitate a new carpet being laid the evening before.  The backup battery for preserving messages ran low during the night, and John's last call to me was lost forever.  Fortunately, many years ago, I'd recorded one of John's sermons, so I'll still be able to listen to his voice whenever the fancy takes me.  However, I'll miss being able to play his last message to me and hear him saying "Hello Gordon", as if he was just on the other end of the line and alive and as fresh as a daisy.

John & Irene on the night of October 19th 1987.  Photo by me

Me on the same night.  Photo by John

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Another Update:  A couple of months or so back, while going through my writing desk cubicles, I found a card from John that I forgot I had.  In it he refers to music, which, in one instance, happened to be The GREAT COMPOSERS, and in the other, JIM REEVES cassettes I'd given him.  I already had the full set of Composers on vinyl, but John had the set on tape.  I asked him if I could borrow one particular tape to make a copy, as I wanted to avoid any surface noises or clicks on the record, and he kindly said I could keep the original and give him the copy.  So I did, and thanked him profusely for his generosity.  I must've also had a bit of a moan about the attitude of certain editors, which is what John is alluding to on the card, which I received a short time later.  Here, I'll let you read it for yourselves.