Because we have the surname in common, my interest was piqued by a Guardian article about Ethel Carnie Holdsworth who, despite being in full-time employment at a Lancashire cotton mill from the age of 13, became an active socialist, feminist, poet and the first working-class woman to publish a novel. But any hope I may have that that I am descended from such a heroic bloodline glimmers dimly; Ethel acquired her last name when she married the poet, Alfred Holdsworth, whose work appears not to have survived much beyond his passing. And whether or not Alfred is an ancestor of mine requires research too thorough for my butterfly mindset.
It seems that Ethel forged her own destiny from innate intelligence and rugged determination. Her successful escape from poverty and what she described as the “slavery” of employment cannot be ascribed to chance or to an advantageous marriage. The schooling she received was the same as that of her peers, basic and limited, predicated on the assumption that girls of her class needed nothing more. Perhaps she was inspired by role models. In any case, her early allegiance to both the Cooperative Society and the Labour movement would have given her a glimpse of the picture on the box of life’s jigsaw puzzle, enabling her to position accurately the few pieces she had been tossed.
This came back to me last Sunday afternoon, when I was at a family party, at which two generations were gathered – a sibling group of parents and their children, all of whom are in the process of flying their respective nests. I mingled happily but, as a childless brother/uncle in-law, was wary of offering advice to the young folks, since I believe that advice freely given tends not to be valued by the recipient. (Nor may it have been appreciated by the parents.) I was pleased, therefore, that a niece-in-law, who is about to go to University in Manchester, asked me to recommend live-music venues in the city – and gratified that she made a note of them on her phone. Sure, the information I passed on may not qualify as wise counsel, but I hope it helps her complete her jigsaw puzzle.
With the advantage of age, experience and hindsight, I could have chipped in quite a lot more useful information and advice, mostly in the form of aphorisms, such as “Better keep yourself clean and bright; you are the window through which you must see the world.” (George Bernard Shaw) and “Everybody knows if you are too careful, you are so occupied in being careful that you are sure to stumble over something.” (Gertrude Stein). However, with James Baldwin’s insight in mind, “Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them”, the question is not who will they listen to but who will they copy? And if Nicolas de Chamfort was right when he said, “We take our colours, chameleon-like, from each other”, then an escape from the bosom of family to the more expansive environments of university and subsequent independence is likely to broaden the youngsters’ vision and challenge their resilience. The educational channels at their disposal far exceed those that Ethel had access to, but such an advantage does not guarantee success – innate ability notwithstanding. Though if, like me, you hold that the highest expression of success is happiness, then life is simplified – according to Ogden Nash, at least, who quipped, “There is only one way to achieve happiness on this terrestrial ball, and that is to have either a clear conscience or none at all”.
But I didn’t say any of this. I just hope that, in years to come, they will remember that Uncle Joe, though he may not have been much of a role model, at least refrained from giving them unwanted advice.
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