An Open Letter To The Good People of Hull By Merle R. Stone

My dearest good people of Hull, I know it has been a very long time since I have seen any of you, and for that I am deeply sorry. I hope this letter finds you all enjoying good health and high spirits. What compels me to write today is that I find myself somewhat lonely for you. I realize that many of you will not remember me, and maybe more than a few of you are asking yourselves just who the hell I am. Please allow me to explain. Back in the mid 1980's, I was in the US Marine Corps, stationed in Rota, Spain.

One evening, while searching out some alcohol to abuse, as US military men are known to do from time to time, I found my way to the enlisted men's club on base.

Upon entering the club, my ears were treated to the pleasing sounds of a live band, effortlessly working their way through one of the keyboard-driven tunes that were popular in that era. Now, there is documented proof that there is very little difference between a Marine on payday and a doorway-dwelling street person in terms of how quickly their money is spent on alcohol when given the chance. I made it my personal mission that night to keep everyone around me as drunk as I was by constantly buying rounds of drinks for anyone within sight. The unfortunate members of the band became a favourite target, as they had nowhere to go.

They were trapped like rats on the stage, unable to escape the constant barrage of alcohol that I was buying and sending up there.

On a break, the band members came to my table to try to catch up and finish some of their drinks. Thus began a friendship that spilled out of the club and into the local clubs and pubs and beaches throughout the city of Rota. I don't remember how long they played our little club before they moved on to brighter horizons, but I am sure that the fatal mistake was made quite early on in our friendship/drunken bender. You know the one I am talking about. The dreaded 'If you ever get into our neck of the woods, look us up' mistake. 'Yeah, you can stay with us if you come to town.' That sort of thing. The sort of thing you say to someone who has been hospitable and a good source of entertainment.

The things that you say when you have honestly had a very good time, and feel like you owe the same in return.

Well, I took them up on their offer. Right out of the blue, I arrived in Hull and disrupted their lives for a brief time. And it was the best time of my life, without a doubt. I think. They tell me I had fun. I don't remember. I was really drunk at the time. Seriously, Hull. You were great! I had the good fortune of being able to travel extensively and see pretty much any country I wanted to. I have not been treated as well or had more people go out of their way to make me feel welcome anywhere else on earth. You heard my American accent and swarmed around to greet me. You rarely allowed me to spend a penny in the pubs. You let me beat you in darts and pool.

You got me completely hammered every night and made me say bad things in an English accent, until you laughed so hard you pissed in your pants. You greeted me on the streets with a smile and gave me accurate directions to the places that I wanted to go. You told me which curry shop was good and which to avoid. You made sure that I got a pizza, the American Marine's favourite food group, while I was there. You took me into your homes, and prepared tea for me. You spent money that you couldn't spare to make nice meals for me. You introduced me to everyone you knew, and to strangers as well.

You threw your arm around my shoulder and posed with me for pictures, as if you were truly proud to have me there. I could go on and on and on about you, Hull.

On the day that I said my sad goodbyes, I made you a promise. I said that I would be back. I meant that. I haven't had the opportunity to return as yet, but, I will. Spring Bank will once again know the cadence of my step. Smoky pubs and noisy clubs will recognize my voice. Huge cans of Fosters and Guinness will tremble in my grasp, sensing their fate. Grassy spots in parks will welcome me back as I sit listening to concerts. And what I look forward to most of all, is you, dear citizens of Hull. I think you will find that I haven't changed that much in the last twenty years. And I am willing to bet that you haven't either. Yes, I will be back.

It may be years from now, but I will. I may call upon some of you to help me across the street on occasion, and possibly to pre-chew my fish and chips for me, but I will be there. And I will be making new memories with you, and of you. Until such a time as I can get back there, please keep this one thing in mind. You are remembered quite fondly and dearly missed. With sincerest gratitude, Merle R. Stone

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