re Joyce

14 hours ago , by Richard Lutz

Richard Lutz pays tribute to a spirited woman who died just short of her 92nd birthday.

We said farewell to my late mother-in-law, Joyce McCrindle, earlier this month. Family and friends travelled from afar for the funeral near her Ayrshire home. There were messages too from Australia, the States…all corners of Britain.

To me, she was kind and considerate, at first intrigued that her daughter had met a young Jewish guy from Brooklyn. For the next half a century, she never faltered in her capacity for motherly and grandmotherly duties, especially during school holidays and busy times, taking my young sons camping, fishing and days out to nearby beaches or continental shores.

Her resolve was tested when her husband Robert became ill and had to leave the sea as a commercial fisherman. She returned  to the classroom, while in her early thirties and with 4 children, to  earn  a degree and start a teaching career.  She educated thousands of children not only in Scotland but also England and Spain.

In her final years, she sang throughout the day

Robert died suddenly when only 57 and Joyce then had to re-form once again, earlier than planned, to start life without a husband. She used the time well, travelling, travelling, and more travelling to India, Australia, China, the States and, also, her beloved Italy where she must have visited every church and museum from Milan to Bari. She was self-taught in many ways, especially in art history and opera. In fact, later in life in a sheltered care home, she would sing through the day well known Broadway tunes or old folk ballads from her native Isle of Man, sometimes peppered with salty lyrics that amused- or even surprised- visitors.

I was reminded of Joyce, only days after her funeral, when I dropped into The Royal Conservatoire of Scotland in Glasgow. It offers high standard music for implausibly good prices.

I opted for a really cheap seat at £5 a pop and found myself with a restricted view along raised terraces of the hall. I could see only half the stage. But it didn’t matter because the sound was so precise, so immaculate. There was no reasons for vision. Just pure sound. The wind based orchestra was a mix of professionals from the Scottish Chamber Orchestra and RCS students. The pros, refreshingly and selflessly, let the undergraduates from the music school do the solo parts. The composers picked were not Brahms nor Schubert but unfamiliar names: Grime, Hummel, Caplet, Schmitt.

I’d never heard of them. But Joyce, I know, would have done her homework beforehand and not only become acquainted with their compositions but their back stories too before sitting down.

She had that gift of curiosity, of restlessly wanting to know more and find out more, a skill honed in a lot of ways by her path of self-education and resourcefulness. And I’ll miss her for that.