Sunday, May 29, 2011
Well this is where it will start. Who knows where it will end. I’ll have my observations on life and death based on recent experiences in the next day or so.
Stay tuned………………….
Reflections Part 1
Wednesday, June 01, 2011
It’s the first day of winter and this one is going to be a long one.
I promised at the start a piece on life and death. It’s taking a little longer than I thought it would. I am trying to sort through a myriad of emotions at the moment and still function on some basic level but I’m finding it a bit of a struggle. So that will come. You’ll just have to wait a little longer.
As you’ll have read from the home page my father passed away just over two weeks ago. Hence the mood of self reflection. I’ve always found it tough to look in the mirror, not liking what I see, but in recent times I have come to realise that whatever my failings as a man, husband, father etc. I still amount to a better person than I thought I was. While others around me begin to show their true colours and are found lacking I can take some solace from the fact that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.
Ironic that we spend our whole lives trying to fit in, yet at a time of crisis our differences become glaringly obvious.
I am my fathers son. As are my brothers. We are not perfect. But what makes us good men is that we aspire to be and we refuse to be dragged down by those that tell us otherwise.
The Future
Wednesday, June 08, 2011 4:36 PM
I’ve always been of the opinion that our children aren’t really ours. We’re just looking after them until they can look after themselves. It’s our job to give them every opportunity in life; to encourage their interests and guide them as best we can. Don’t get me wrong. I love them more than life itself. They are the most important people in the world to me.
But when the time comes for them to make their own way in the world I want them to go forward and do what’s best for them.
I have three sons. My youngest, Nick and Alex, are four and five and despite being a handful really only need some love and affection to keep them going. Helping them to learn to read and play football is greatly fulfilling. And by and large they’re both pretty good kids. Sometimes angels and sometimes little devils like all kids are.
My oldest is a different story. James is seventeen now but he was only six when I left his mother and it took a lot of time and effort to repair the damage. I don’t know that we have a normal father/son relationship but I’m thankful for what we have. I try not to tell him what to do but guide him instead. Not being there all the time means walking a fine line and he doesn’t always listen. In the end he has to make his own decisions and live with them.
He called me yesterday to tell me he’d had the best day of his life. I couldn’t talk at the time and told him I’d call back. But I had a sense of dread. Was he serious or being sarcastic?
We spoke again about thirty minutes later. He’d had a call from the local TAFE offering him a position in the Music Technology course he wanted to do and had been trying to get into for months. Things were going well with his girlfriend. And his band was starting to move forward after their lead guitarist went back to the States last month. I get the impression they’ve been a bit lost without him. He was the leader and I guess they lost their way a little with him not around. He will be back, of that I’m sure, but in the meantime they’ll need to step up so they’re ready when he does return. They’ve decided to have someone fill in for him until then and work on some of their own ideas. They just need to find a way to soundproof the garage to stop the neighbours complaining!
So he’s managed to sort through his school dramas, girl dramas, and band dramas all in a few days. Not on his own, I’m sure, but its good the planets are starting to line up for him.
My boy is growing up.
Life goes on
Thursday, June 16, 2011 6:47 PM
It’s been a month since the death of my father. I knew it had to happen eventually but it’s still not something you’re ever really prepared for. We just go about our lives, navigating the many obstacles in our way, when suddenly, out of the blue, reality kicks in and we get a lesson in the real important things in life.
My father was a quiet man. I remember he was always working when I was a kid, sometimes two jobs. School holidays were spent in his workshop, helping clean the gear boxes before they were rebuilt. And there was always Saturday afternoons for the football; after I’d switched teams he took me to see Essendon every week even though he barracked for Richmond. Used to embarrass the hell out of him too. I was a bit vocal in my support of the mighty Bombers back when they weren’t so mighty. Then it was back to Grandmas in Richmond for the replay and dinner. That tradition went on for years, even after we were all old enough to go on our own we always seemed to gravitate back to Chestnut St. after the game.
There were the annual road trips, either to Sofala for camping or Connie and Dave’s in St. Mary’s, usually undertaken in a recently acquired wagon (the old man was a mechanic). We’ve done the Hume Highway in everything from an Austin 1800 through to a Kombi van (with the obligatory hippy flowers paint all over the interior). One year we went up in a white Valiant Station wagon. It came back green. Who paints their car when they’re on holiday?
A lot changed over the years as we grew up. When we were in our mid to late teens our parents separated and he struggled with that. Buried himself in his work for awhile until he set himself alight one day after being up all night cleaning transmissions. Luckily the ambos knew what to do and he was barely left with a scar.
After awhile he met Alice and got on with his life. They spent twenty years together, mostly struggling with illness and poor health but they had each other and that seemed to be more than enough for them. But it also meant they kept to themselves. We saw them now and then but our contact became more sporadic after the move to Venus Bay. After her death in 2008 the bridges were rebuilt and the reasons for the break became apparent.
But we all moved on and got on with it.
We went through a similar experience nearly five years ago when my partner Jo lost her mother. She was in her early sixties and had a long history of health problems, yet we always seemed to think that everything would be ok. Then one night her heart finally gave out. My father was also in his early sixties. He’d had a history of heart problems but seemed to be doing fine. He led a relatively active life (for a man of his age) and was happy again with a new partner after losing Alice three years ago. Jo had cared for her mother most of her life. Was even still living with her at the time of her death. So it hit her pretty hard. She still mourns for her.
For me it’s different. I don’t think it’s really hit yet. Everyone thought my father and I were never really close. I can see how it would seem that way. He was never much of a talker, or one to show his emotions. The apple never falls far from the tree. So while the women in our lives gave us grief about the perceived lack of time we spent together we were as close as you can be when you are so alike.
He lived his life and we all lived ours. But we always kept in touch. I’m grateful my kids had the chance to know something of their grandfather, and I know he’s left a strong impression on them.
I’m at peace with our relationship. I would have loved to have spent more time with him, and I know he would have felt the same. Living so far apart sometimes life just gets in the way. For years I never thought we had that much in common. As I grew older I started to see some similarities. I can only hope that when my time comes I am held in the same regard as he seems to be.
The Winter Solstice Part 1
Tuesday, June 21, 2011 1:14 PM
The winter solstice occurs exactly when the axial tilt of the Earth is farthest away from the Sun, depending on the polar hemisphere of reference. A winter solstice occurs on the shortest day and longest night of the year, when the sun’s daily maximum position in the sky is the lowest.
That day is today. June 21.
On this day in history, Jean-Paul Satre, Ray Davies, Nicole Kidman and Prince William, Duke of Cambridge were born.
So was I.
Forty five years ago today. And this has been cause for much reflection.
Does this make me middle aged?
I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately. My grandfather died when he was fifty eight from a stroke. Recently my father passed from a heart attack at sixty four. My brother, who is eighteen months younger than me, had his first heart attack about a year ago.
Family history seems to be against me. This does not bode well.
The thought of it being all over in the next twenty years does not sit well with me. It’s not like I’ve achieved a hell of a lot in the last forty five years but there’s still plenty I want to hang around for.
It seems to have gone by so quickly, but when I think about the past, things all seem to fit into convenient little chapters. Almost like I never really lived them at all. They are like a movie I may have once seen. Or a book once read. Conveniently stored away for future reference should my present self find the need for nostalgia. But all these little chapters are what made me what I am today. And all the choices made along the way have led to this exact point.
I find myself at this point in time with one son almost a man and two sons barely out of infancy. They all have their own unique personalities. Which is where the curiosity comes in. Curiosity as to which paths they will choose to take in their lives. My eldest seems intent on music; fortunately it’s an area where he has shown some talent. I will do all I can to encourage him in this aim as it’s an area I would have loved to have had the opportunity to pursue. The younger two are essentially blank canvases. Although already one shows a propensity for sport where the other is sometimes scary with how intelligent he can be (when he chooses to be).
I want to be around when they’re grown up and married, starting families of their own. I want to be around to help them when they’re down, or sit back and admire their accomplishments. For whatever happens, I know it will be an interesting journey.
So to ensure I am around for this adventure I will have to defy the family history.
Dreams
Saturday, June 25, 2011 8:51 AM
As a kid I used to dream a lot. Mostly about whatever was happening at the time. In 1982 the Commonwealth Games were held in Brisbane. I remember seeing a lot of the swimming, and Robert De Castella winning the marathon on the last day. For that two weeks I dreamed of being an athlete at the games and winning gold for Australia. But I never did anything about it.
Even before that I’d see the Grand Final and every year would imagine myself kicking the winning goal. And again, I never did anything about it.
When I was in high school I would listen to a radio show every Sunday night on EON FM in Melbourne. It was hosted by a guy called Bill Pinnell and he played just about anything that you wouldn’t normally hear on the radio. That’s where I heard of Stevie Ray Vaughan for the first time. He’d just played on David Bowie’s ‘Let’s Dance’ album after being discovered by him playing a set at the Montreaux Jazz Festival (where he had been the first unsigned act ever to appear at the festival). The story goes he was asked to tour with Bowie and agreed to on the proviso that his band open the shows. The deal couldn’t been done so Stevie Ray went back to the States with his band, later to record their debut album, ‘Texas Flood’.
It was this album more that anything that gave me the desire to play guitar. It was a few more years before I’d actually get one (my 18th birthday to be precise) but it is a desire I still have today all these years later. I’ve managed to teach myself a fair bit over the years but I’m nowhere near where I would like to be. As with everything else it has remained a dream.
So where I am going with this?
Well I’ve come to the point in my life where I’m realising that dreams will remain just that. There are things in life I would love to do but age and responsibilities mean they are not going to happen. And I’m fine with that. I have a good life as it is.
I share all this in the hope that those in a better position to realise their dreams can take something from it. And that is that we all have dreams in our lives. The key to making them happen is to recognise what’s required to make them come true. Then work, hard, on making it happen.
You only live once.
Democracy, Freedom and Tolerance
Monday, August 15, 2011 10:21 AM
Democracy
Definition› a system of government in which all the people choose their leaders, or a country with this system
Freedom
Definition› the right to live in the way you want without being controlled by anyone else
Tolerance
Definition› to accept or allow something although you do not like it:
The above definitions are from the Cambridge Essential English Dictionary
http://dictionary.cambridge.org/
And why have I started with these?
Well this morning on Facebook I was greeted by the following post.
“I think it’s sad nowadays when you get frowned upon for smacking your own kids and it’s even sadder that we can’t celebrate Christmas at school anymore. Now they want to stop playing our national anthem at morning assembly cos it might upset certain religious families. Here’s what I say to all those people offended by the way our country was raised. ‘‘If you don’t like it, please feel free to f$#$ off” Please re-post if you wish to show your support! Aussie Pride!! Make Australia Aussie again”
Now normally I would probably ignore it but this one struck a chord. There have been a lot of similar posts in recent times, and more often than not they have been aimed at one ethnic group or another.
I think by and large most immigrants that come to this country are here to create a new life for themselves and their families, but their stories are forgotten when the sensationalist media focuses on the more extremists views of the minority.
Sadly Australians are falling for the fear mongering when we should be embracing the cultural diversity these “New Australians” bring.
And make no mistake, the majority are here and while holding to their own beliefs (as they are entitled to do in a democracy) they are also embracing our way of life. You only need to see the faces at any local Auskick clinic on a Saturday morning to see this.
At the time when I was growing up, Richmond, an inner city suburb of Melbourne, Australia, was a predominantly Greek area with a smattering of Italian, Turkish and other European immigrants, who had left their homelands for a better life in the post war years.
They encountered racism from the time they stepped off the boat but they endured, and were eventually accepted and embraced by their fellow Australians. I don’t think Australians are an inherently racist people, but it can’t be denied that we are all human, and are all slightly uncomfortable with the unknown. The Middle Eastern and African immigrants of today will one day be accepted just as the Europeans of the post war, and the Asian immigrants of the seventies were.
Ultimately what we all need to remember is this. We all came from somewhere else, and either were transported or migrated here. And tolerance is a two way street.
We are all entitled to enjoy the freedoms afforded to us by the sacrifices of our forefathers.
Unemployment
Thursday, August 25, 2011 2:14 PM
Well yesterday was an interesting day. Things have been quiet for awhile at work and some hard decisions had to be made. Unfortunately for me I was the one to go.
Made redundant.
But it’s not the end of the world. Life goes on.
That’s been my attitude since I first heard the news. Thought I’d have a bit of a break then start looking again. But I woke up this morning with nothing to do. Now I’m bored.
After updating the CV I’ve applied for two jobs already, and since I’ve got the time now the car’s booked in for a service and no doubt there’ll be other tasks that I haven’t got around to that I will be reminded of.
A new job for next week would be good……………………
Back to the boredom.
Carmel Britten
Wednesday, October 05, 2011 5:08 AM
My ex partner lost her mother yesterday. And while I wish I could say or do something to ease her pain I know there is nothing I can do that will really help.
So I thought I’d share the memory of her that pretty much sums her up in my mind.
Jenny and I moved to Lara around late 2000 I think (my memory for dates isn’t great), mostly to be closer to her family who were all living down that way then. At the time I was in my motorcycle phase. The little Honda 250 was soon to make way for a shiny new Kawasaki ZR7. After the Honda it felt like a rocket ship. So as well as riding to work in Melbourne everyday there were weekend rides around the Bellarine Peninsula. Back then the only time I drove was to pick up James on the weekends.
Anyway back to Carmel. I think we were sitting around at her parents and we must have ridden around that day when the subject of riding came up. Jenny was trying to talk her sisters into going for a ride. I remember Deanne wouldn’t have a bar of it. But Mum was up for it. So she was fitted out with Jenny’s gear and off we went. Out of their driveway in Corio and onto the freeway down to Lara. I could of swore I heard her screaming. As I pulled off the freeway to head into Lara I realised it wasn’t screaming I was hearing but her laughter. She was loving every minute of it! Through the town and the back to Corio with some twists and turns along the way and the whole time her laughter over the roar of the engine.
And the look on the faces when we got back. It was then I found out she was arms raised and laughing from the time we left to the time we pulled back into the driveway.
And that about sums her up for me. I will always remember that laugh.
So to Kevin and Jenny, Deanne and Michelle my sincerest condolences to you and your family on your loss.
Carmel, may you rest in peace. You were a true original.
Your mother is always with you…She’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street. She’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not well. Your mother lives inside your laughter. She’s crystallized in every tear drop… She’s the place you came from, your first home.. She’s the map you follow with every step that you take. She’s your first love and your first heart break…. and nothing on earth can separate you. Not time, Not space… Not even death…. will ever separate you from your mother…. You carry her inside of you….
Cavallo con gli angeli.
Sunday, October 23, 2011 9:39 PM
It’s been about four years since I’ve ridden a bike. With a young family and pick ups and drop offs at day care there was no chance of the daily ride. And weekends were just too busy. But I still remember the feeling.
Like Mick Doohan. Early years of shocking injuries as a prelude to five consecutive World 500cc Grand Prix Championships. Or Casey Stoner. His family making the sacrifices to give him the opportunity to show his talent, with his reward to them two MotoGP World Championships (and more to come…..).
They have both felt the same things. For them it’s been on the racetracks of the world. For me and others like me we find it on the backroads through the hills. The open run on the Warburton Highway up to Reefton, then that left hand turn onto the bridge and into motorcycle heaven. The twists and turns through the forest then the open road again to Marysville and back onto the Maroondah Highway through Narbethong and into the Black Spur. The run up through Toolangi and the back way to Kinglake. We’re spoiled for choice in these parts.
Part of the thrill I guess is the danger. On roads like these you can take them like a mad man, or you can just get into a groove, and flow on through to the other side. We rarely get even close to the edge. Not intentionally anyway.
But those few, with the talent and the balls to push the envelope, tend to end up at the same place. The place where the Mick Doohans and the Casey Stoners have shown their wares and thrilled us with their exploits.
And sometimes, through either bad luck or bad timing, someone falls.
Nearly three years ago to the day, Italian rider Marco Simoncelli clinched the 2008 250cc World Championship. Today in his second season on the MotoGp circuit, he was fatally injured in the opening laps of the Malysian GP in Sepang, the scene of his earlier triumph.
His prodigious talent will now remain unfulfilled. But the memories of the wild haired Italian will live on.
Riposa in pace Marco. Si guida con gli angeli ora. Solo il buon morire giovani.
Memories
Saturday, October 29, 2011 7:40 PM
When I was a kid there was one room in my grandparents house that we were not to go into. So of course one day we did.
It was the second door on the right after you came in the front door. The paint was peeling off the walls and there were dents everywhere. As we’d peer around the door into the room we’d catch a glimpse of a huge net, strung up from floor to ceiling. We found out later it was to catch the golf balls my grandfather would hit.
Why do I mention this now?
Because I’ve spent most of today watching my youngest sons play Wii Sport. For the last hour it’s been golf. If my grandmother were still alive she’d probably wonder why they never had it in her day. Would of saved a lot of damage to the spare room.
