I found out who I am

I found out who I am.

I was born into a working class family. My father worked as a machine tool operator in an industrial town in the North of England. My mother had married below her station in the town’s social world as she was a teacher. In marrying my father she stepped down to his level of a working class member. All this at birth and for several years after meant nothing to me. It was in my early teams that I started to understand the complex undercurrents of living in a structured and closed community.

Father was a good looking man. He had all the charm of being Irish. He loved playing his guitar and singing ballads to anybody who would listen. No doubt these attributes seduced my mother. His working life only meant one thing for him; a pay check at the end of the week. He suffered a few years of not working due to companies closing or reorganizing their work force. He always laid the blame for these periods on the capitalist system that valued profits above labour. He could never understand that without labor there would be no profits. Sometimes when I came back from school I would see a sad, unwanted figure playing his guitar. Occasionally I asked myself if the world was being fair with him. Although he loved his pay check he was an excellent worker, always on time and a skilled operator. In these periods of father not working my mother suffered as slowly the Irish smile and charm started to disappear in his despondency.

As I was their only child I believe my mother was determined I should climb the social ladder by being a brilliant student. Lessons in school were instructive and interesting but compared to my mother’s additional lessons at home made school lessons dull in comparison. This additional tutoring always put me at the top of the class. Quite early my mother realized I had an extraordinary gift for languages. At a very early age I could mimic sounds and phases to perfection. I was also fascinated in words, the construct of a language, and meaning of the written word. For several years Latin, being the foundation of many European languages, was on the list. With heartfelt thanks to my mother I got a scholarship to Cambridge to continue my studies of languages. Naturally in celebration of the scholarship my father wrote a ballad about a mother and son leaving for a trip to Europe. I am glad to say he was working at the time but deep down I knew he felt society’s judgement would take me up the social ladder to a place where he did not belong.

Cambridge at first was daunting. I would not say it was a melting pot of bright students from all sectors of the country’s communities. It was dominated by students from private schools, and well off families backgrounds. Students that had lived privileged lives and expected this lifestyle to be their birth right. I tended to concentrate on my studies and not participate in the many social activities the university colleges offered. My professors soon found out I had exceptional talent for languages. They arranged for me so that in my second year I could benefit from a diversified European exchange program. This meant spending four to five months in three prestigious universities, in Paris, Rome and Berlin. When I told my parents they of course showed their pride in their son being favored by the university. They said they would miss my monthly visits, father even suggested he would try and find the money for a visit on the continent. In saying this I knew he was struggling financially as during my time at Cambridge the company where he worked had been sold and new owners in an endeavour to squeeze out more profit had let 30 percent of the workers go.

My second year was an enriching experience. Here I was leaving England for the first time armed with understanding and speaking many languages on the continent. The first thing that impressed me was the size of the land mass, the architecture, the size of the farmers fields, the different smell from the streets and restaurants, the way people greeted each with many demonstrations of affection, kisses and hugs. It was a year where I had the chance to greatly improve my accent and vocabulary in the three countries selected for my exchange program. Also while living for a period in three different countries I started to understand how each country approached the many problematic questions of organizing their internal affairs. Travelling across the continent to each university was an adventure. Once across the border you were immediately faced with another culture and the many subtle different ways of conducting the normal tasks of everyday life. These experiences greatly improve my understanding of Europe and its role in the world.

I left Cambridge with many memorable periods when I felt extremely happy and deep down, not to be shared with other people, pleased with myself. At the passing out ceremony my mother and father came to see their son graduate with honors. I was very pleased to introduce them to a few firm friends I had made during my tenure. In fact a few of us all had dinner together with my father playing the guitar. At that moment in time he was working. I went home with them to take time off to consider what I wanted to do with my life. I did not have much time to consider as I received a letter from the government's prestigious translators department that asked me to interview for a personal translator position for cabinet members. Would I be available for an interview next week? We await your reply. It was signed by a cabinet member.. Father and I went down to the local pub to be met later by my mother.

I had the interview and accepted the job. It was certainly well paid but I did not have the courage to tell my father. I spent the first year on British soil assisting various European ministers with their dealings with members of the UK cabinet. I suspected I was at times being carefully monitored as to my job performance. In my second year I was delegated to travel with cabinet members to meetings in Europe. Clearly an upgrade confirming my status In the translators hierarchy.

At the start of the third year I was called into the principals office. He told me the American Foreign Secretary needed help with their meetings with European counterparts We consider you to be definitely, among our team, the best candidate for Europe matters. Therefore, subject to the outcome of this meeting, I am prepared to allow the American to employ your service for a period of two years. On condition you work for the Foreign Secretary. You will be based in Washington all living expenses paid for and your salary will be adjusted to the scale paid for that position in the United States.

A week later I was on a flight to Washington. My first reaction to American life was an admiration for their energy, their openness, and the way they had organized their lives. Superficial friendships were easily made; this had the result of getting things accomplished. On my second day there I met the Foreign Secretary. I immediately thought I would like working with him. He was a Texan, blessed with a forceful presence, tall, brown, with hair swept back from his forehead. He was surrounded by several young assistants. There was one young woman that I immediately felt an attraction to. I was to learn a few hours later from one of my new found friends that she was the daughter of a fellow Texan. She had just graduated from Princeton. Two days later I had the chance to talk to her. Not only was she attractive, she was smart, humorous and clearly a woman to fall in love with. But what stuck me the most was her self confidence and poise. This must have come from being born into a prominent wealthy Texan family. Her whole upbring was opposite to mine. Life was handed to her on a silver plateau. She seemed so different from my experiences with English women. She was full of life, energetic and enthusiastic. This was America, land of the free, I found myself seduced by the concept. It was not long before we began having a serious relationship with each other. This included several visits to her parents' magnificent home in Texas. Their property bordered a large lake where we spent many happy hours together sailing. One of the many, should I say toys, that came with the property. Her father owned a very large slaughter house in the nearby town. I can only imagine it was very profitable as the parents lived like British royalty. They had two daughters and one son. The younger daughter was away at university and the son was married with two children living about thirty miles away. He worked in his father's business. I enjoyed going there and was always warmly welcomed. I think they thought I was an ideal match for their daughter. I had already written to my parents informing them that I had met the person I loved and wanted to spend the rest of my life with. It was just a question of time before I was going to propose to her.

My mother wrote back asking me to describe the family I was going to marry into. I called her and gave a full account of my love for Megan, her background and a description of the family. My mother said she was so happy for me. The world I was walking into sounded like some Hollywood film. Father took the phone to congratulate me but he did add a warning. The higher you climb the harder you fall. They were both anxious to know when all would be official so that they could plan to come to the wedding ceremony.

About two weeks later after my proposal of marriage to Megan and her acceptance we went to Texas for a long weekend to celebrate with her family. That Sunday afternoon my whole dreams of a life with Megan ended.

It was a fine afternoon for sailing with gusts of strong wind crossing the lake. I needed a little respite from all the festivities at the big house with their relatives and friends. Megan and I decided to take the Saffer sail boat out which was moored at the bottom of the big lawn. In good wind conditions the Saffer is a fast boat. It has a small sun deck at the back. As we made our way up the lake we saw several boats out enjoying the weather conditions. Magen was lying on the sun deck talking out her father's problem at his company. Apparently his workers were about to go on strike claiming higher wages and better working conditions. This situation had been in discussions for some time. It appeared the workers knew that the company was making exceptional profit so they could not understand management's position. I remark that maybe they had a point. I was shattered and totally surprised at Megan's reply. No, I disagree they are there to work and not interfere with management decisions. Let them strike, they will soon feel the cold winds of reality. For some unknown reason I saw for a minute the ghost of my father arising from the lake only to push him down again. I suddenly realized I had been living in a dream, contrary to the moral and ethical values I hold dear. My anger with Megan's remark was like lightning striking. Her parents, friends and relatives were not a part of my world. I heard Megan stand up preparing herself to take the wheel from me. In a rage of anger at myself and her.I jibed the boat. The main sail boon hit her on the head and knocked into the lake. I immediately dived in, leaving the boat to continue on its merry way. I could not see her on the surface so I dived down in an attempt to find her. On my third attempt I found her lying on a rock about eight metres down. I came up one more time, took a deep breath and went down again to try and bring her to the surface. I nearly drowned myself in my Herculean effort. When I came to the surface with Megan in my arms there were already two boat crews that saw what had happened and had immediately come to help. My love of a few hours ago, my false dreams and the whole idea of forming a family were lost in the waters of the lake. My reaction to Megan’s insensitive words and the ghost of my father made me realize who I was.

I stayed with the family for a week to lay Megan to rest in the family grave. Our collective sadness was deeply moving. The family told me I was now part of them and would be always welcome.

I left for Washington with the words of Oscar Wilde ringing in my ears. “ Each man kills the thing he loves, by each let this be heard, some do it with a bitter look, some with a flattering word, the coward does it with a kiss, the brave man with a sword”…..some with anger and shame.

David Nutt April 2025