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For the Collins Family Circle.
Stephen Smyth 8th
January 2003.
“Those were the days my friend
We thought they’d never end,
We’d sing and dance forever and a day,
We’d live the life we’d chose
We’d fight and never lose
Those were the days, oh yes, those were the Days.”
Well, Brian, my best friend for thirty
years, is gone. Brian was special, a special friend, a special
son, a special brother, husband, daddy and uncle. Throughout
those thirty years as we changed from boys into young men and
from being sons into being fathers our outlook on life has
remained virtually unchanged. We were the same age, we’d been
to the same school, we were both the eldest in our family,
both of us have a younger brother and two younger sisters.
Both of us had degrees, we had somehow managed to get
beautiful wives and we both have two beautiful children.
I want to go back those thirty years
to1973 and the Coleraine school era when we were just fifteen.
We lived then in the “wonder years.” Brian was a boarder at
Coleraine Inst. The Lisburn contingent was well represented
in Darryl his younger brother and Simon, their cousin. We
didn’t like the lessons much, or the teachers, but by panic
studying the last few days before exams we somehow kept
scraping by. Some of our heroes were Muhammad Ali, Georgie
Best and Alex ”Hurricane” Higgins. Elvis Presley was still the
king and we loved heavy, loud, rock music by Led Zepplin. But
to both of us, our greatest heroes, and our only sources of
income, were our fathers. Brian’s nick- name was Squid, but as
he grew bigger and tougher fewer boys risked calling him this
so he evolved into Big Bruno, and eventually into his
initials, BJ.
In those days I had access to my mother’s
car at the weekends. Brian had nicknamed this car "the
Rocket" because it was so slow, but
it enabled us to lead many clandestine breakouts from boarding
school on Saturday nights, down to Kelly’s in Portrush. We
also often skipped lunch breaks and, indeed, classes to race
down to the Council putting green, at Anderson Park, and play
putting tournaments against other lads for, serious enough
money like, 10 pence a hole. Brian and I were both suckers for
double or quits but we sort of never paid each other off, and
only took the money from those other lads. We eventually
progressed into having small MGB sports cars, which looked
great, went really fast but were too dear for schoolboys to
run and for their dad’s to insure. Brian’s driving has never
changed or improved. One of the reasons I am prematurely bald
at 45 years old was Brian’s Italian- Rally driver style of
driving and anyone who sat in a car with him when he was in a
hurry will never forget that experience.
At school we were both in McNeill House
which was the worst rugby playing house in history. We won
about three games in seven years. However although Brian was a
great rower, and won his Honors Blazer from Inst in rowing
during his O-Level year, he would play rugby in the house
matches for us. Brian was really tough even then and would mix
it with anyone. He played really hard but fair, was incredibly
brave and gave absolutely 100% in every game, regardless of
how far we were behind or how hopeless the rest of his team
–mates were.
We never, ever had an idea in our heads
what we would do, or wanted to do, when we would have to leave
school and “grow up”. In fact this “career path blindness” has
never changed. We both just were happy surviving at school,
doing the minimum work and not being thrown out, or totally
disgraced, when the school reports arrived at home. Maybe, in
five years time, which to us seemed an absolute eternity, we’d
be at university and somehow we’d have matured and would know
all about a career, but until then we’d just live life to the
full and we just loved those happy, golden, stress-free days.
Being street wise back then was trying to grow your hair as
long as possible without the teachers putting you on report
because it was all short-back –and-sides stuff. We would wear
weird variations of the grey official school uniform. Being
ultra trendy Brian and I sported maroon waistcoats, and bright
fluorescent yellow socks. Everyone wore huge black, platform
shoes like Gary Glitter. We were just the two coolest dudes
at the school.
And so to the summer holidays in Majorca.
For three years, during our school summer holidays about a
dozen of us took a fortnight in cheap apartments and had the
time of our lives. We were like the Rolling Stones on tour.
It’s hard to believe that the participants went on do well and
became, bankers, Stuart McDowell, Doctors, Paul Conn and Rory
McCartney, business executives like Stephen Boyd and the
biggest shock of all is Simon, who could eat absolutely
anything, peppers, raw onions, absolutely anything, can now
build, construct and sell real houses. Darryl, Simon and Brian
must have learnt an awful lot after they left Inst and went to
either Friends or Wallace because we certainly learnt nothing
like this in Coleraine. There always were challenges always
someone in our group would be good for that task. One of us
would be a good swimmer, or a good rugby player, or
footballer, or photographer, or good at cars, or talking to
girls, or arm wrestling, making huge splashes and soaking
everyone at the pool, or cooking or something. Our holiday
group never had a single argument or a punch up. Quite often
at the same beach club we would see the sunset out over the
calm Mediterranean sea and then six hours later watch it rise
again as we made our way back to the apartments. As Brian and
I were amongst the wildest of the gang we always roomed
together, and both of us would come home each year, completely
broke and without any suntan. We were all equal and equally
innocent and with the beach life, the pool life and the night
life, those holidays remain some of the happiest memories for
us all.
And Brian’s life was happy and filled with
joy. A few years ago the two of us went to Lansdowne Road,
Dublin for an Irish rugby match. Needless to say I insisted on
driving. As usual we talked freely and philosophized to each
other where each of us were at that point in our lives and
what work and life were really all about. We both loved our
parents and our families were the greatest joy in our lives.
Being a daddy was just brilliant, and we wanted our children
to be happy in life above everything else regardless if they
were rich or poor or clever or not. Being happy was what it
all was about. This was really what, Brian my best friend,
was all about. We all know your wealth is not the money that
you have. Money alone can’t buy happiness. Some people say
your health is your wealth, but the good health of others,
like your wife, or your child’s more important. Having good
health and enough money still doesn’t do it, if no-one loves
or really cares about you.
Brian believed that what being a good,
decent person was all about, could only be measured by the
love you had for, and you received from your family and
friends. Using this measure, Brian was truly wealthy with the
love from his mum and dad, his brother and both his sisters.
And with all his heart Brian truly loved, and was deeply and
truly loved in return by his wife Lorna and his two boys. The
love we, his friends, have for him only adds to how good and
worthwhile his life was. In the year two thousand and two
Brian was happier than ever before as a person, a son, a
father, a husband, brother and as a true friend. He enriched
all our lives and we shall not see his like again.
“Those were the days my friend,
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
We’d live the life we’d choose
We’d fight and never lose
Those were the days, oh yes, those were the Days.”
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