I dedicate my song today to my Facebook friend, Tracy Bowers from Northampton, Northamptonshire.
Today’s song is, ‘How Do You Do What You Do to Me’. This song was the debut single by the Liverpudlian band, ‘Gerry and the Pacemakers’. The song reached Number 1 in the ‘UK Singles Chart’ on 11 April 1963, where it stayed for three weeks. The song was written by Mitch Murray, who offered it to Adam Faith and Brian Poole but was turned down by both. George Martin of EMI decided to pick it up for the new group he was producing called the Beatles, as the A-side of their first record. The Beatles recorded the song but were opposed to releasing it, feeling that it did not fit their sound, but worked out changes from Murray's demo-disc version. Gerry and the Pacemakers' version, also produced by Martin, became a Number-1 hit in the UK’.
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Titled ‘How Do You Do It?’ this song was released during my 20th year of life as I was making plans to emigrate to Canada. Indeed, the question in the song title always reminds me of the ways that people can generally feel astounded by specific acts achieved by an individual along with certain situations encountered, faced and managed.
Since early 2013 when I was told that I had a terminal blood cancer, I have had numerous operations. I have twice received six months chemotherapy treatment and twenty sessions of radiotherapy for a further four cancers my body developed. On several occasions, I have been close to death, but thankfully, I have managed to pull through each time. And yet, I can honestly describe these past seven years of my life since I married my wife, Sheila as having been the happiest seven years since my birth (77 years ago next month).
Throughout my life, people have asked me, ‘How do you do it?’ whenever I manage to pull off something significant. Were my mother alive, I haven’t the slightest doubt of her answer to this question. She would look at me, smile lovingly and say, “Because our Billy is ‘special’. He always was and always will be!”
I am the firstborn of seven children born to my dear mother in Portlaw, County Waterford (in the home of my grandparents). My mother told me early on in my childhood that when she was six weeks into her pregnancy with me, she opened the door at 14, William Street, Portlaw one afternoon to a peg-selling gipsy. The Romany reportedly looked at my mother and said, “Cross my palm with sixpence or any silver coin and I’ll tell you about the ‘special child’ you will give birth to before Christmas!” Not showing any sign of her pregnant state, and not yet having mentioned the ‘good news’ to my father or her parents, as well as being wary about turning away any Romany empty-handed, my mother instantly opened her purse and placed sixpence in the hand of the Romany. The Romany told my mother that she would give birth to a special son and that this boy would be the firstborn of seven children born to her. Then, without further ado, the Romany left my mother’s doorstep saying, “Bless you and all the people of this house.”
From as early as I can remember, my mother told me every single day of my life, “Billy Forde, never forget that you are special!” She told me about the prophecy of the travelling Romany, and because she was my loving mother, I believed her words as no less than being Gospel. Having had ‘specialness’ conferred upon me by a peg-selling gypsy while I was fresh in my mother’s womb for the price of sixpence, and having my ‘specialness’ confirmed to me daily by my mother thereafter, I naturally came to believe that I was indeed ‘special’.
Everything unusual I did thereafter, every time I did something to beat the odds and I managed to survive the things one isn’t supposed to get over, in my mother’s eyes, it was because I was ‘special.’
Following a horrific traffic accident at the age of almost 12 years and a several life-threatening injuries, the doctors told my parents I wouldn’t live. When I managed to pull through, mum knew that it was because her eldest child was ‘special’. A damaged spine resulted from having my body twisted around the drive shaft of the wagon that ran over me and my parents were informed that I’d never walk again. When I did walk some three years later, my mother said it was because I was ‘a special child’.
While in hospital nine months, a teacher called Mr McNamara, who knew me to be a clever pupil (always first or second in any class subject) got me Mensa tested. When the results came back with a reading of 142, my mother instantly said, “It’s because our Billy’s special!”. The same was true when I became the youngest Trade Union Shop Steward in Great Britain at the age of 18 years and then became the youngest Youth Leader in England at the age of 18 years.
Over my adult years, several heart attacks and half a dozen different cancers in my body have been experienced by me and still, I have managed to resist shuffling off my mortal coil.
In short; the more often I was told by my mother that I was ‘special’, the more ‘special’ I felt; I was not in the least surprised when I continued to do ‘special things’ (which I believe were ordinary things done in a special way).
I spent the first 25 years of my life believing strongly in my own ‘specialness’ before my life underwent a significant positive change. I gradually came to appreciate that ‘I was special’ BUT SO WAS EVERY OTHER LIVING PERSON AND CREATURE ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH! Still, I will never say that the sixpenny piece my mother gave the Romany wasn’t worth its value a million fold.
Ever since that realisation that everyone is ‘special’, I have devoted the past fifty years doing everything I do in attempting to make people more aware of their own ‘specialness’. I have done that through my work as a Probation Officer, Marriage Guidance Counsellor, Anger Management Worker, Group Worker, Relaxation Trainer, Good Neighbour and Christian. I have sought to do it through my many published children’s books, my charitable work, all my relationships and my daily Facebook posts.
The purpose of this personal explanation isn’t to ‘big myself up’ but simply to point out that it isn’t ‘Me’ as such who has been able to achieve the outcomes I have experienced. It was ‘my belief’ in my mother’s words, my belief in my self-worth, my belief in God, my belief that good hold power and sway over all manner of evil in the long run and my belief in the capacity of others to change their life and behaviour for the better. The power lay 'in my belief'.
I have never yet achieved one thing alone since I first drew breath 77 years ago. At every twist and turn in my life there has been someone there to support, nourish, teach, guide, demonstrate, intervene, encourage me, stop me, share and help in one way or another.
Two of the most important pieces of advice ever given to me came from my parents. My father once told me, “Billy, no job is beneath any man to perform.” My mother once told me, “Billy, never be too proud to allow others to help you!” In their own way they were both essentially telling me that ‘humility’ is the greatest of character traits. Unfortunately, too much pride and too little humility has always been, and will no doubt prove to be my own downfall and this still remains a ‘work in progress’ for me.
I dedicate my song today to my Facebook friend, Tracy Bowers from Northampton. Tracy has had her own struggle with fighting cancer over the years and always demonstrates the innate courage that can be called upon at our most difficult of coping times. Thank you for being my Facebook friend, Tracy. Bill x
Love and peace Bill xxx
Today’s song is, ‘How Do You Do What You Do to Me’. This song was the debut single by the Liverpudlian band, ‘Gerry and the Pacemakers’. The song reached Number 1 in the ‘UK Singles Chart’ on 11 April 1963, where it stayed for three weeks. The song was written by Mitch Murray, who offered it to Adam Faith and Brian Poole but was turned down by both. George Martin of EMI decided to pick it up for the new group he was producing called the Beatles, as the A-side of their first record. The Beatles recorded the song but were opposed to releasing it, feeling that it did not fit their sound, but worked out changes from Murray's demo-disc version. Gerry and the Pacemakers' version, also produced by Martin, became a Number-1 hit in the UK’.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Titled ‘How Do You Do It?’ this song was released during my 20th year of life as I was making plans to emigrate to Canada. Indeed, the question in the song title always reminds me of the ways that people can generally feel astounded by specific acts achieved by an individual along with certain situations encountered, faced and managed.
Since early 2013 when I was told that I had a terminal blood cancer, I have had numerous operations. I have twice received six months chemotherapy treatment and twenty sessions of radiotherapy for a further four cancers my body developed. On several occasions, I have been close to death, but thankfully, I have managed to pull through each time. And yet, I can honestly describe these past seven years of my life since I married my wife, Sheila as having been the happiest seven years since my birth (77 years ago next month).
Throughout my life, people have asked me, ‘How do you do it?’ whenever I manage to pull off something significant. Were my mother alive, I haven’t the slightest doubt of her answer to this question. She would look at me, smile lovingly and say, “Because our Billy is ‘special’. He always was and always will be!”
I am the firstborn of seven children born to my dear mother in Portlaw, County Waterford (in the home of my grandparents). My mother told me early on in my childhood that when she was six weeks into her pregnancy with me, she opened the door at 14, William Street, Portlaw one afternoon to a peg-selling gipsy. The Romany reportedly looked at my mother and said, “Cross my palm with sixpence or any silver coin and I’ll tell you about the ‘special child’ you will give birth to before Christmas!” Not showing any sign of her pregnant state, and not yet having mentioned the ‘good news’ to my father or her parents, as well as being wary about turning away any Romany empty-handed, my mother instantly opened her purse and placed sixpence in the hand of the Romany. The Romany told my mother that she would give birth to a special son and that this boy would be the firstborn of seven children born to her. Then, without further ado, the Romany left my mother’s doorstep saying, “Bless you and all the people of this house.”
From as early as I can remember, my mother told me every single day of my life, “Billy Forde, never forget that you are special!” She told me about the prophecy of the travelling Romany, and because she was my loving mother, I believed her words as no less than being Gospel. Having had ‘specialness’ conferred upon me by a peg-selling gypsy while I was fresh in my mother’s womb for the price of sixpence, and having my ‘specialness’ confirmed to me daily by my mother thereafter, I naturally came to believe that I was indeed ‘special’.
Everything unusual I did thereafter, every time I did something to beat the odds and I managed to survive the things one isn’t supposed to get over, in my mother’s eyes, it was because I was ‘special.’
Following a horrific traffic accident at the age of almost 12 years and a several life-threatening injuries, the doctors told my parents I wouldn’t live. When I managed to pull through, mum knew that it was because her eldest child was ‘special’. A damaged spine resulted from having my body twisted around the drive shaft of the wagon that ran over me and my parents were informed that I’d never walk again. When I did walk some three years later, my mother said it was because I was ‘a special child’.
While in hospital nine months, a teacher called Mr McNamara, who knew me to be a clever pupil (always first or second in any class subject) got me Mensa tested. When the results came back with a reading of 142, my mother instantly said, “It’s because our Billy’s special!”. The same was true when I became the youngest Trade Union Shop Steward in Great Britain at the age of 18 years and then became the youngest Youth Leader in England at the age of 18 years.
Over my adult years, several heart attacks and half a dozen different cancers in my body have been experienced by me and still, I have managed to resist shuffling off my mortal coil.
In short; the more often I was told by my mother that I was ‘special’, the more ‘special’ I felt; I was not in the least surprised when I continued to do ‘special things’ (which I believe were ordinary things done in a special way).
I spent the first 25 years of my life believing strongly in my own ‘specialness’ before my life underwent a significant positive change. I gradually came to appreciate that ‘I was special’ BUT SO WAS EVERY OTHER LIVING PERSON AND CREATURE ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH! Still, I will never say that the sixpenny piece my mother gave the Romany wasn’t worth its value a million fold.
Ever since that realisation that everyone is ‘special’, I have devoted the past fifty years doing everything I do in attempting to make people more aware of their own ‘specialness’. I have done that through my work as a Probation Officer, Marriage Guidance Counsellor, Anger Management Worker, Group Worker, Relaxation Trainer, Good Neighbour and Christian. I have sought to do it through my many published children’s books, my charitable work, all my relationships and my daily Facebook posts.
The purpose of this personal explanation isn’t to ‘big myself up’ but simply to point out that it isn’t ‘Me’ as such who has been able to achieve the outcomes I have experienced. It was ‘my belief’ in my mother’s words, my belief in my self-worth, my belief in God, my belief that good hold power and sway over all manner of evil in the long run and my belief in the capacity of others to change their life and behaviour for the better. The power lay 'in my belief'.
I have never yet achieved one thing alone since I first drew breath 77 years ago. At every twist and turn in my life there has been someone there to support, nourish, teach, guide, demonstrate, intervene, encourage me, stop me, share and help in one way or another.
Two of the most important pieces of advice ever given to me came from my parents. My father once told me, “Billy, no job is beneath any man to perform.” My mother once told me, “Billy, never be too proud to allow others to help you!” In their own way they were both essentially telling me that ‘humility’ is the greatest of character traits. Unfortunately, too much pride and too little humility has always been, and will no doubt prove to be my own downfall and this still remains a ‘work in progress’ for me.
I dedicate my song today to my Facebook friend, Tracy Bowers from Northampton. Tracy has had her own struggle with fighting cancer over the years and always demonstrates the innate courage that can be called upon at our most difficult of coping times. Thank you for being my Facebook friend, Tracy. Bill x
Love and peace Bill xxx
