by Phil Rostant
Nobody had a bad word for Damien.
So it falls to me…Damien, if such a thing were possible, made an art form of the bad pun. The standard “groan” response was wholly inadequate for some of his efforts. But he took such evident delight in them that only the stoniest heart could do other than secretly share his pleasure. Damien was a film bore. He had an encyclopaedic knowledge of cinema and could if pushed (and often without being pushed or even offered a hint of encouragement) tell you obscure details about obscure films for miles of the route from Bourne to Spalding. But despite an audience who generally shared almost total ignorance, Damien found a way of convincing, enlightening and enthusing. I for one am richer for knowing that Marnie Nixon was Deborah Kerr’s singing voice in The King and I and that she made her acting debut as one of the nuns in Sound of Music. It’s just possible that Damien was a brilliant teacher. Damien was hopeless at crossing stiles. I’m sorry, there is no positive spin I can put on that. He was. It took about four of us to help him get over one and the day we had to cross about eight on the post-covid cross country route could have been flipping torture. But, as with everything he did in life, Damien’s great-heartedness shone through. He was grateful, apologetic and uncomplaining about being asked to do something which really was outside his physical wheelhouse (as I believe young folk might put it.) Err.. No that’s it. I’m out…
I set out to balance the overwhelming flood of recollection that paints Damien as a paradigm for the best of humanity. I thought that a dash of “well yes, but” would be a valuable corrective to all that uncritical affection. I think I may not have managed. “Nihil nisi bonum” is often only achieved by tactful editing and judicious reticence. In Damien’s case it’s practically impossible to do otherwise.
I knew Damien for more than 40 years. He was a constant example of how to make the absolute best of what he had been given, how to put others ahead of himself without it ever seeming like a sacrifice, and how to bring everyone around him into the warm circular glow of his love for the things he loved. Of those I think Pilgrim Cross, and more particularly Northern Leg, was very near the top of the list. He was the epitome of a Northern Leg ‘Old Git’, with all the stories of Northern Leg of yore to tell, but he was always fully in the present. His desire to include everyone was unwavering. Told once of someone’s they/them pronoun, he never got it wrong. Sure, he ensured that whisky club happened but also that gin and hot chocolate were there too. It was the fact that you were there that mattered to him. He was a repository for the Leg traditions but made it his business to ensure that they were passed on and that each new walker understood that they were also now keepers of the flame.
I am a better person for knowing Damien and I am, like everyone who knew him even just a little, diminished by his uncharacteristically early departure from the party.
Northern Pilgrim 