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I have been quiet
about Steve's passing since the sad news reached my brother Greg and I
the other night via Graeme's call. Thanks to him and Judy for the task
of calling Steve's old friends with the bad news. I'm glad that Steve's
sister was able to contact Graeme. Steve has been off the radar for
quite a while and I gathered that he was ill and the concern was that he
could have gone and we'd be none the wiser. I'm grateful (and amazed)
she found his number.
A bunch of the old
Sydney clique were able to get together today and attend his funeral. It
felt right to be able to acknowledge what a rock like presence he was in
our lives in what seems to me so long ago. That 'clique' that formed
between these stalwart ABBA fans back between 1981 and started drifting
apart as the new decade started is a defining period of my life. It is
the bulk of my memories. More happened in terms of interaction and soap
opera liaisons and incident and laughs and travel between us during
those years than in my 20 years growing up before it and the roughly 18
years since it petered out.
It was the time of my
life.
My twin Greg, Julie
Daws, Judy, John McKechnie, Ian, Graeme, Donna L, Sue, Graeme Traves,
Dave McPherson and Stephen .
And me of course.
Together weekly. For years.
And even though I rarely
see any of these people now when I do see them, there is an ease and
fellowship and trust that is hard to come by. I haven't found it since.
That group of disparate people brought together by a love of ABBA found
a haven from the outside world when being an ABBA fan made you a freak
and out of step.
Now Stephen joins David
in leaving far too early. Hard to get your head around.
Stephen, Greg and I
attended high school together in the Sydney suburb of Narwee in the
seventies. By 77 when ABBA toured we knew each other. Stephen jigged
school for the day and got in the 4th row with another schoolmate. The
rest of us got the train in after school and were in around the 40th.
Although it must have
been the ABBA interest that kept us together after school ended, I
remember one of our first meetings when he tore up some top 40 chart I
had at school with ABBA featured. Don't know why. Steve was always
pretty unreadable by me all the time I knew him. Played his cards close
to his chest is the expression.
He was a big part of my
year 12 formal (he had a date, I didn't). He was with me the first time
I met Judy (at Julie's place), one of the longest friendships I've ever
had, still in contact after 36 years. He was there at the very beginning
of what would grow to be the Sydney Clique. Was a constant companion and
sounding board through my first love affair. Accompanied us on a
European tour at the time of the Chess premiere in London.
Through seeing him
constantly for over 15 years, I don't ever recall seeing him cry. Or get
ferociously angry. Or fall deeply in love or get his heart broken.
Oh, he could get annoyed
alright and his use of profanity was calculated and pointed. And he
loved laughing and carrying on like a little kid. He was cool I guess
you'd say, in the Fonz tradition, a stylish good looking man.
Greg scanned over 80
photos we had, mainly of Clique gatherings that he was featured in. I've
been poring over them, hearing his voice, recalling his mannerisms,
trying to remember. He was a large ever present figure in my life you
see and it bothers me that I feel like I didn't know him well enough.
As we gathered in the
chapel today, the same chapel where coincidentally I farewelled my
Grandmother over 6 months ago, the pipes of Arrival started to play.
(They played it twice.) That ABBA connection hit me emotionally. We have
discussed ABBA songs for funerals before here but I don't remember
Arrival being mentioned. It has never sounded so mournful, so sad.
Despite it's optimistic title (imagine if it had have been titled
Departure) the choir and pipes sounded so majestic, so appropriate,
so... sad. It was a struggle to keep it together.
Later the lady celebrant
introduced I Know Him so Well, Barbra Streisand's version. Someone from
the back gave a little cheer, indicating she thought it a great choice
for Stephen's taste. Again tears flowed. A few lines struck me from the
song- Looking back I could have played it differently Won a few more
moments (who can tell) But it took time to understand the man...
Truer words. He was, and
remains an enigma to me.
Much was spoken of in
the service about us being kind to each other. Cherishing our time
together. Not carrying grudges and being at peace. Life can be cut short
so soon.
Steve was a kind soul. A
bit of a hermit, shy, not interested in being the centre of attention.
Happy by himself with his music and television. I could be describing
myself with some of that. Perhaps that was part of the attraction.
Regardless, even if he
lived I'm not sure our paths would have crossed again. We meet countless
people in our lives. Years on we may see a photo or recall them and
struggle for even their name. There are others you will never forget.
The best compliment I
can give Stephen Jones is that I will remember him for as long as I
live.
Jeff Roberts
Sydney, Australia
Jeff Roberts - 1984,
"Get Cliqued" Convention
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