Acceptance

I've already written about times in my life when I felt rejected or an outsider, but there were other times when I felt a sense of acceptance. Surely I felt accepted when I was born, my parents' first son and all my grandparents' first grandson, and born less than ten months after the death of my sister. As one of six children I could not claim much of my parents' time and attention though. Nor really could I claim much of my grandmother's, but my paternal grandmother was there for me as a child. We spent weekends with her and my grandfather, had holidays with them. Indeed, pretty well all of my holidays were spent with my grandparents, save the trip to Italy in 1956. My grandmother accepted me just because she was my grandmother, and I was always grateful to her for that. She gave me space in which to develop and to play, she let me read voraciously, as much as I wanted. At the farm I played out on my own in the fields and in the woods, messing in the stream and down the river, on my own for many hours at a time and for days on end. She fed me, I helped with tasks in the kitchen and on the farm, and we went on outings on coaches. It was a very benign acceptance, without judgement, with no strings attached, no expectations and no real demands. She would answer my questions, share her stories, discuss with me. She had no pretensions, she was educated in a village school in Cheshire and was a decent, honest soul. We later sometimes slept in adjacent rooms - in the farmhouse my bedroom was reached through her room - and I would hear her mumbling her prayers at night.
I certainly hardly felt any sense of acceptance at primary school, or even at the grammar school, until I was in the Sixth Form, and then I latched on the the boarders, and sometimes joined them at the weekend. I became a prefect, and had the honour, or I took it as such, of being known by my forename and not by my surname. I don't think any other boy of my age had that distinction. Younger boarders befriended me and appreciated my friendship. I became assistant stage manager for school productions of Gilbert and Sullivan and Shakespeare, and enjoyed being accepted for my practical skills. Similarly it raised my morale to be so appreciated and accepted by the sacristy sisters at the Cenacle Convent. Sister Waite and Sister Burns were good friends to me and enjoyed my help and my company.
I didn't settle easily into university life, and it wasn't till my second year that I began to grow a little in self-confidence, but it was at the end of my second year that I had the wonderful experience of training in France as a moniteur, the term then used for a helper in a youth camp. The training at the course at St Jean les Deux Jumeaux was exciting. We were an international stage de base, with participants from all over the world. I excelled in the activities, I was able to flourish in the medium of a different language, and I also celebrated my twenty-first birthday whilst on the course. What could have been a lonely disappointment was a wonderful celebration, thanks to the other participants. I went from the course to work in the Jura at St Pierre en Grandvaux, near Geneva, with Père Paul Corand, and I worked with full commitment with the young boys at the colonie. It was a memorable month.
Being accepted for jobs always felt good, whether as a part-time librarian at Hulme Public Library when in the Sixth Form, or a an assistant in menswear at Kendal Milne's during the January sales.
I t was good to feel accepted when I got a job as a lecturer at Hertfordshire College of Building, not just for the teaching this entailed, but for living in a very male world and developing my male identity. I enjoyed working with the students, of all abilities, including taking them on residential courses and activity weekends. It is a surprise and a pleasure that I am still friends with some of them now.
My work for seventeen years at the museum in Exeter was not world-changing, but it did often touch young people's lives, and for the better. The work was often repetitious and even boring, but the enthusiasm of the thousands of young people was always rewarding. I have often quoted the young visitor to the museum who said, 'Mr Gent, you're the nicest man I've ever met.' My work with the WEA was also rewarding, in that it gave me the tools with which to touch people's lives for the better in many ways. I met some wonderful people who became tutors for my courses, and they not only touched many learners' lives, they became friends, and stayed in touch, including during my recent long stay in hospital.
When I left my lectureship after five years and went with my partner to Israel it was a new phase in my sense of acceptance. Firstly, to be accepted by my partner was a turning point. Secondly, to live and work in Israel, and to be accepted for both, was a moving and rewarding experience. At our first kibbutz we were accepted for our work, at the second for our skills in learning Hebrew, and at our third placement, in the northern development town of Ma'alot, I had the professional satisfaction  of working as assistant borough engineer initially, later working on my own, and of working with young Jewish volunteers who came there in the summer. It was also in Ma'alot that I was taken under the wing of the local Jewish community, who taught me so much about my roots, my religion and my culture. I was so lucky to have that life-changing experience. When I later became involved in the Exeter jewish community I was able to make use of all those wonderful experiences to help rebuild Jewish life in Exeter. Some of that continues, but changes over the past decade have meant that the original flavour, very much inspired by 1980s Israel, has now gone, and a much more English, even Anglican, atmosphere often permeates the present-day community.
Over the past eight years I had the remarkable and special experience of being welcomed by friends who were gay, and whose friendship proved rewarding and moving. I discovered friendship as I had hardly known it before if at all. I shared so much, I felt safe, I enjoyed trust and support. I felt a sense of brotherhood and camaraderie; that was something I'd always wanted throughout my life.
At the same time, I was coming to terms with the two bleeds in my cavernous angioma. I was fortunate that despite two major seizures I was affected by none of the symptoms that affected others. It was thus that I became a trustee of Cavernoma Alliance UK, and I was appreciated for my work there. I was touched by the treasurers's appreciation of my ability to chair meetings, by his recognition of my skills, and by his sincere friendship.