60 in 60 #21 Paul

 60 in 60 #21    Paul

I am reflecting on the last 60 years, and writing 60 blog posts in 60 days. 30 about people and 30 about events, places, experiences and entities.

 

I’ve said a few times already that seemingly insignificant incidents have turned out to be life-changing events, never more-so than in this story.

 

One of the reasons my last two years of high school were so good was because I met Graham Barnes. We were in the same English class and we hit it off straight away. We both loved footy and barracked for East Perth, we played a lot of pool and we both went on the North West Trip, a bus trip run by the school taking students to the North-west of WA for two weeks. We took the inland route north, via Meekatharra and Wittenoom (!) then on up to Port Hedland and Broome before returning south via the coast road to Carnarvon and Geraldton. It was a fantastic trip for a whole lot of reasons including a rendezvous with Dad and Julie at Millstream, a day of silly antics at the South Hedland shopping centre, four of us sneaking off to go skinny dipping at the famous Cable Beach, and getting the bus bogged on the banks of the DeGray River. 

 

Graham in the poolroom

About a year after we left school Graham and two mates, Dave and Sean, headed off in a panel van to go around Australia by the northern route; Broome, Darwin and the top end. At the same time I had embarked on my hitch-hiking adventures going the other way, across the Nullarbor. We figured we would meet up somewhere on the other side of the country but the plan was pretty loose. We had some mutual contacts and addresses and kept in touch by mail. This was in 1980, long before mobile phones or the internet of course.

 

As described in chapter 17, my original plan when leaving Melbourne was to go back to my old home town of Toowoomba on the Darling Downs but when I got a ride with Peter who was heading for Cairns I changed plans and joined him on the trek to Far North Queensland. Sadly his car died when we got to Townsville and he ditched it and flew home to Newcastle. I intended to return south as well but figured seeing as I was so close I would hitch up to Cairns for the weekend. I stayed a couple of nights at a youth hostel and was set to head off on the Monday morning when a group I was hanging out with invited me to join them on a day trip to have a look at the Atherton Tablelands. Having no deadlines and no commitments I accepted their offer. That night when we got back to the hostel we were sitting in the front garden having a drink and telling stories. I had my back to the footpath but for some reason turned around at the exact moment a bloke was walking past wearing an unmistakeable cowboy hat, it was Graham! 

Graham and that cowboy hat, in London, not long before I left for America in 1984

I couldn’t believe my eyes and jumped up and ran after him. It turned out that he and the other two had made it as far south as Bellingen in northern NSW but unable to find work he had hitched back up to Cairns on the basis of a story that there was plenty of work there. 

 

Being reunited, my plans changed and I decided to stay on in Cairns as well. Graham got a job unloading prawn trawlers and I got a job at Tom Hull’s Mansworld, a menswear shop that specialised in outfitting cattle workers.

We moved into a new hostel together and started playing pool at the pub most nights.

There were some interesting characters at the hostel, including a woman who got very confused about which room she lived in and could often be found wandering around the first floor veranda. One day I brought home a gigantic pair of denim jeans I’d found in the storeroom at Tom Hull’s. They were so big that Graham and I could stand in one leg each, they probably had a 100” waist. They were some sort of promotional pair I think. For a joke I hung them out on the washing line late one night. The commotion the next morning was hilarious as the bunch of odd characters marvelled at the mammoth jeans and wondered who on earth wore them. The lost lady went hunting around the hostel trying to locate the owner, no doubt thinking that a giant had moved into the hostel overnight.

 

Paul when we met in Cairns in 1980.

There was another guy at the hostel who wasn’t strange, apart from being American. His name was Paul Frederickson and the three of us started hanging out together. He hailed from California and had already been to New Zealand, and worked in the outback before arriving in Cairns. We sat on the steps and talked for ages about life, religion, education, hopes and dreams. At night we headed for the pub and the pool table. Paul was working as a lumper at a factory, unloading heavy bags off trucks and onto ships, or vice-versa. He told me to make the job more interesting he started doing “Disco-lumping”, incorporating a few dance moves in between bags. After a few weeks at the hostel we figured we could save money by renting a flat so the three of us moved into a little two bedroom flat a few streets away. 

 

We stayed in Cairns for about 3 months before Graham said he wanted to head back to NSW to re-join Dave and Sean. I swapped addresses with Paul and a few days before Christmas Graham and I set off hitching south while Paul stayed on in Cairns.

Sometime later he returned home to the States and we started writing to each other.

 

Fast forward to June 1983. I had been in England for a year and was flying to New York for the start of summer camp at Camp Schodack in upstate New York. (Chap 14). After a brilliant time at camp I set off hitch-hiking around the USA with my main target being San Diego, Paul’s home town. It took me a couple of weeks to get there and even though I had written to let him know I was coming I think Paul was still surprised that I made it. I spent about a week with him and it was just as good as it had been when we met in Cairns. He was working for PSA airline and often took advantage of the great staff discount airfares, such as flying down to Quito, Ecuador, for a weekend, much to the amazement of his big-noting neighbour. While I was there I helped Paul move in with his girlfriend Vicki who also worked at PSA.

 

I took off back to New York and London in September 1983 but the following year I returned to Camp Schodack, and on my second trip around America went across the top via Mount Rushmore and Seattle before again arriving in San Diego. This time I spent about two weeks with him. We went camping in the Redwood Forest National Park and I met his brother Damon in Fresno.

About to leave for our trip to the Redwoods, 1984

 Paul loves fly fishing (so much so he has been to New Zealand a number of times to indulge his passion). On this visit he was keen to check out a potential fishing spot a couple of hours outside San Diego so we set off on a hike to look for it. I don’t remember if we found any decent fishing spots but I will never forget what we did find. While we sat on a rock to have lunch Paul asked “Did you hear that?” “No” I replied. A couple of minutes later he said “I can definitely hear something”. We peered around the other side of the rock and sitting beneath it was not one but two rattlesnakes!! We took off quick smart and then cracked jokes all the way back to the car about being chased by a couple of angry rattlers. 

The day of the Rattlesnake hike

 

We are alike in many ways and very different in others but the more time we spent together the closer we became. Paul was an accountant and thus very good at managing money while that is definitely not one of my strengths. He is a careful planner while I am more spontaneous but we both share a love of travel and adventure. When we first met he was exploring Christianity and I was a sceptic. A few years later I had a profound conversion while Paul was not sure what his beliefs were. These days we are both believers.

 

After my second trip to San Diego I returned home to Australia via Hawaii and life took a very different turn, within a few months I had accepted Christ and less than a year later was married to Carolyn. Paul and I carried on our letter writing and an occasional phone call but in the next few years we were busy getting on with life and raising a family and our contact was less frequent. One day I came home from work and Carolyn told me that Paul had rung because he had realised that we had lost touch a bit and he was adamant that he didn’t want that to continue because he valued our friendship so much.

 

In 1992 I got to go to America again to attend a youth leaders conference in Montreal and a church conference in Los Angeles. Needless to say I stayed with Paul and Vicki at their place in Escondido while I was in California. It was a couple of months after the LA riots sparked by the beating of Rodney King and I borrowed Paul’s truck (ute) to take a tour through the affected areas. 

 

About two years later Paul came to Australia again and stayed with us in Perth for a few  weeks.  It was during this trip that our son Jordan, about 4-5 at the time, greeted Paul with words that have become enshrined in the folklore of our friendship, 

“You’re real nice Paul, just as I expected you would be.” 

It was during this trip that Paul joined us for two special events, Sailing Camp and Augusta Beach Mission, both run by Scripture Union. Paul fitted into both communities beautifully and was an enthusiastic participant in everything we did. Paul was a star runner at school and in college and also loves soccer so we were both in our element with the soccer games  played every evening at Sailing Camp. It was a summer full of great fun, special memories and new friendships including Paul meeting another one of my mates, Andrew Broadbent- Broady. 

Climbing the Gloucester Tree at Pemberton

 

In 1997 we had our fourth child, a son. We had not decided on a name until I said to Carolyn, “How about we name him after Paul?” She liked the idea and thus the bond between us was strengthened even more. About a year later Paul came on another trip down under, this time with Vicki as well. By then my Mum had been to America a couple of times and had met and stayed with Paul and Vicki so their trip included a stay at Bridgetown with Mum. 

While he was here I arranged a hiking and camping trip in the Stirling Ranges along with Broady. The three of us went down south to Bridgetown and Katanning before setting off to hike up the third arrow track into the rugged Stirling Ranges. We  intended to camp the night in an overhang cave that I had been to with kids on a wilderness hike the year before. The problem was we had wasted too much time en route playing on the adventure playground in Katanning and by the time we started hiking the light was fading. My companions’ confidence in me diminished the higher we climbed and the darker it got, until, forced to admit we couldn’t safely go any further, we bunkered down next to a rock wall and sought whatever shelter we could find for the night. 

Broady wasted no opportunity to rubbish me and my navigation skills but the funniest comments surrounded Paul’s new bike. Paul had been telling us how good it was and how much he enjoyed riding it while we were hiking. As the darkness descended and the risk level increased Broady started rehearsing the phone call he would make to Vicki should anything terrible happen.

“Hi Vicki, really sorry to have to tell you there’s been an accident, but before he died, Paul said I could have his bike.” 

Of course, when we woke up next morning we were less than 50 metres from the cave we’d been searching for! By then the rain had set in and the three of us spent the day snuggled in our sleeping bags, watching the rain and  cracking jokes in between sleeps. By the third day the weather had cleared and we were able to continue hiking before returning down the track to the car. Unfortunately, due to the rain, we were now parked in a muddy field and proceeded to get the car bogged as we tried to depart. As everyone knows, it’s the mishaps  and unplanned problems that make a trip truly memorable and when you add in Broady’s sense of humour, we had a fantastic time.

With Broady on our way to the Stirling Ranges

 

After that trip there was a long gap before Paul and I saw each other again but rather than fade, our friendship grew ever stronger until we both realised that we were best friends. The fact we live on opposite sides of the world or that we only see one another for brief periods then spend years apart is immaterial. 

We have a bond that is unbreakable. 

I admire so many things about him: his energy, his endless enthusiasm, his Pollyana-ish optimism, his sense of adventure, his loyalty and faithfulness. Then there is his amazing array of talents. Besides being a highly credentialled manager and accountant, he loves learning new skills and has learnt how to do all manner of physical jobs including the complete renovation of their house in Old Town San Diego, pretty much doubling it in size. He told me once how much he enjoyed doing the work himself and when asked by a friend why he didn’t hire a tradesman to do some particular task he replied, “What! and miss out on all this fun!”. 

I love Paul and value his friendship incredibly highly. He has been an inspiration to me but more than that, he has been a supporter, a sounding board and a believer in me. I respect his opinions and many times have sought his advice and counsel when making big decisions. I know that he loves me and that without a shadow of a doubt he is there for me no matter what. Over the last few years Paul has redefined our relationship, elevating it from “best friends” to “brothers”. We both have two flesh and blood brothers but now we have a third by adoption.

 

 

In 2014 I called Paul and said there were some amazingly cheap airfares available to Hawaii and how would they like to meet us there for a holiday? I should say that Paul and Vicki own a house on the big island of Hawaii which her Dad Dave built. They go to Hawaii a couple of times a year and each time they do Paul does more work to the house or the garden or both. They immediately said yes to my suggestion so I booked the tickets and a few months later we jetted off to Honolulu then onto Kona on the big island. 

It is no exaggeration to say it was the best holiday we’d ever had. We loved Hawaii, the natural beauty, the beaches, the lush green tropical feel and the perfect weather but most of all we loved being there with Paul and Vicki. They were wonderful hosts and every day there was a new place to go, a new beach to swim and snorkel at or a new place to eat. We had many BBQs at the beach, basking in the beautiful sunsets. We laughed a lot, especially when the things Vicki had told us we could do failed to work out as planned. The milkshake place turned out to have stopped making milkshakes years before, there were no spinner dolphins at the beach, no turtles where we snorkelled and no stingrays to be seen seen under the spotlights at Rays by the Bay. It didn’t matter, we laughed all the more. 

 

We took an overnight trip to Volcano, the small town on the southern end of the island near the active volcano that emits a steady stream of lava into the surrounding area including flowing into the ocean. Paul and I walked across the floor of a dormant volcano, past vents of steam and lava tubes. Another day we hiked a few miles down the hill to a place known as ‘Captain Cook’, the landing place of the famed British navigator. We took a day trip to Hilo, the biggest town on the other side of the island and found some beautiful Hawaiian dresses for Carolyn. In the evenings after a typically wonderful meal of Mexican food (Vicki’s specialty) we were introduced to a great card game called Wizard. In between all the activity I worked on a drawing for Paul. I had asked him to choose a style from some of my samples and I then drew something for him that I was able to personalise based on our long friendship. Paul chose not to look at it until it was finished and I’m pleased to say he loved it when he did.

My first picture for Paul, Hawaii, 2014

 

One thing that I loved about Hawaii was how it brought out so much of Carolyn’s beauty, she was relaxed and happy the entire time, her playfulness emerged, unhindered as it often is by her worries and concerns.  The pictures I took of Carolyn in Hawaii are absolutely beautiful and remain my favourite images of her, many of them capture her laughing and full of light and joy.

 

Carolyn, glowing in Hawaii

 

When we returned home I commenced my teaching degree at Deakin Uni and we moved into our fantastic new home in Ocean Grove but the afterglow of Hawaii lingered and we set our sights on going back again.

 

That opportunity came two years later but this time it was planned as a double whammy. We went to Hawaii in March 2016 and Paul and Vicki came to Australia, via New Zealand, in October. The second trip to Hawaii was just as good if not better than the first. More beaches, BBQs, turtles and dolphins, great food, day trips, swimming and snorkelling, and culminating in Paul and I establishing a tradition, a day of moped hire around Kona. I drew another picture but this one was for Paul and Vicki together and formed a pictorial biography of them. 

My second picture for Paul & Vicki, Hawaii 2016

 

It was another idyllic trip and I joked that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get Carolyn onto the plane when it was time to go home. 

 

Paul and Vicki’s trip to Victoria  six months later was equally wonderful for a variety of reasons, in particular, Paul got to meet my Dad and they hit it off, bonding in our backyard where Paul spent several days building me a shed and Dad became his off-sider and advisor while I was at work. Paul and Vicki took a side trip to visit Mum at Narrawong and we took a trip to Wilson’s Promontory and got to see wombats and wallabies then Paul and I rode our bikes to Fish Creek on the bush tracks following the old railway lines through the beautiful Gippsland forests. On our way home I showed them Auntie Ev and Uncle Ken’s old house at Leongatha. They also got to meet a good friends, Bruce and Jacqui Robinson over a memorable lunch in Melbourne.

The Robinson Lunch 

 

On our trips to Hawaii I kept a daily journal to create a record of all that we did and a commentary of memories and anecdotes which I read out at breakfast each morning. I continued writing journal entries for their visit down under and I love looking back at them to relive the memories of some very special times. The icing on the cake is that Carolyn and Vicki have become close as well and the four of us together never fail to enjoy ourselves.

Carolyn and Vicki

 

I am especially glad that Paul got to meet Dad and vice versa, dad having heard so much about him over the years, because it was less than a year later that Dad’s cancer returned and took his life. Paul wrote him a lovely letter when he heard the news.

With Pop

 

Our plans had been to meet up again once I finished my degree, somewhere in Europe, Italy perhaps, but job hunting and other commitments delayed anything happening and now with the Covid pandemic all thoughts of international travel are on indefinite hold. I know we will meet up again, somewhere and sometime soon, once the world opens up again.

In the meantime we email and facetime, swap pics and stories and keep up to date with one another’s lives. 

I had a great idea early this year and I asked Paul if he would like to facetime with the kids in my class at school. Of course he said yes so after I had prepared the kids by telling them a bit about my best friend and getting them to prepare questions for him we facetimed one morning. Following the call the kids had to write a recount of the whole process. I emailed copies of their writing to Paul and we had a follow-up call a few weeks later when Paul was back in Hawaii. A couple of weeks later a package arrived from Paul with a personal card written to each of the kids and a small gift for them all. The kids fondly remember meeting my best friend.

 

I started by saying it was a series of small and unrelated incidents that led me to this point.

If I hadn’t hitched a ride with Peter and changed my plans from Toowoomba to Cairns…

If I hadn’t decided to continue on to Cairns for a weekend…

If I hadn’t stayed an extra day to take a trip to the Atherton Tablelands…

If I hadn’t turned around at exactly the right moment when my mate Graham walked past…

If I hadn’t stayed on in Cairns instead of heading off the next day as intended…

 

I wouldn’t have met my best friend!

 

I love my brother Paul and I give thanks that all of those moments happened the way they did because for over 40 years we have formed a bond that has become the strongest and most important friendship in my life apart from my marriage.

 

Thanks mate, I love you and I can’t wait until the next chapter in our friendship unfolds.

 

Your brother Marcus.

60 in 60 #20 Fusion

 

60 in 60 #20    Fusion 

I am reflecting on the last 60 years, and writing 60 blog posts in 60 days. 30 about people and 30 about events, places, experiences and entities.

 

From my late teens on I had discovered I liked working with kids through volunteer camp leading with the YMCA (Ch. 14 of 60 in 60). After my time overseas, 1982-84, I came home looking for something and found Jesus. The confluence of Christianity and ‘career’ was a key marker in my journey. I hadn’t realised I was looking for faith and belief but once I did it changed my life and gave me a sense of purpose and vocation.  

 

The next sliding doors moment was a result of curiosity. 

 

When I was working at the YMCA in Bentley there was a little old weatherboard house on Albany Hwy in East Victoria Park with an intriguing sign above the door: ‘House of Zoe’. I drove past it each day and often wondered what went on inside. There was a common joke that it was a brothel but I didn’t believe that. 

 

Finally one day I decided to check it out and that’s when I met Rose Diprose, team leader of Fusion Perth. I had never heard of Fusion so I was surprised to learn that it was an Australia-wide Christian Youthwork organisation that grew out of Sydney in the seventies under the leadership of a man called Mal Garvin. Zoe is the Greek word for ‘life’, thus ‘House of Life’. Rose introduced me to the other team members and explained a bit about Fusion’s philosophies and approaches to youthwork. I was all ears and felt an instant connection. Fusion represented an authentic Australian character, unlike other models that drew on American style youth ministry. They invited me to join them for lunch and over the next few months I visited more often and found out more about their work in nearby high schools and the local community. 

 

I was attracted to their way of working which was based on making genuine connections and relationship building and was keen to get involved. 

It was early 1988, the year of Australia’s Bicentennial. The Prime Minister, Bob Hawke, had declared there would be no prayers at the opening of the new Parliament House in Canberra. Christians from around the country took this as a challenge and began organising what became known as ‘The National Gathering’ and invited Christians from across the country to come to Canberra, join hands around the new Parliament House and pray for Australia. 

At the same time, World Expo 88 was about to be staged in Brisbane and I had picked up a pamphlet calling for volunteers to join the team at ‘The Pavilion of Promise’, a Christian presentation at Expo.

I had also found out that Fusion ran a six-month course offering a diploma of youthwork at their training centre in Sale, Victoria.

 

A plan and a timeline began to take shape in my mind and I put the idea to Carolyn.

We could take the train to Melbourne, go to the National Gathering in Canberra, buy a car and drive up to Brisbane and spend six weeks volunteering at Expo then head back to Victoria to start the Fusion course in the mid-year intake. Considering we had only recently become parents to Zachariah it was a bold plan and a brave decision by Carolyn to agree to it. It's fair to say that not all of our respective parents shared our enthusiasm or saw the vision of the adventure quite the way we did but we were excited and determined to go for  it.

 

The train trip was relatively smooth and a couple of days later we departed for Canberra with some Fusion crew from Melbourne. The Gathering was a fantastic event. 40,000 people came from all over Australia to declare their faith and to pray for the nation. An all night concert and prayer vigil was held on the hill joining old and new Parliament Houses and there was a great sense of unity and purpose throughout.

 

We returned to Victoria and spent a few days at Dad and Julie’s farm in Maryborough while Dad helped me buy a car, a Kingswood station wagon which was perfect for our needs.

We set off for Queensland with our toddler snuggled in amongst all the luggage. 

 

The Pavilion of Promise teams were rostered on in 3-week blocks. We spent the first block at the training centre near Indooroopilly and the second block billeted with a couple who lived a few suburbs away. Expo was huge and exciting and being able to work within it was great fun. The PoP training was led by a wonderful bloke called Bob Adams who happened to be the leader of Fusion Brisbane. 

Legendary friends Noel and Steph Kara

Down South Gospel friends Stu and Deb Robinson

We met some great people while we were on the Expo team, the most important of whom were Noel and Steph Kara and their little boy Isaac. Many years later we started going to their church, ‘Down South Gospel’, when we moved to Busselton and they remain good friends over 30 years later. Noel is a Maori surfer and Steph is a beautiful singer and muso and they both have wonderful hearts for people and God. Carolyn and Steph are kindred spirits and our daughters, Sophie and Toni are very close, especially now as they are raising families of their own. Noel had a near-fatal motorbike crash in Bali several years ago which has curtailed his surfing but he retains his energy, passion and sense of humour. 

I loved my time at Expo and learnt a lot about communicating with people as well as riding the roller coasters after my shifts were finished!

Toni and Sophie, with Arrow below.

 

After Expo we made our way south to Kilmany Park, an old property just outside of Sale in Gippsland to begin the training with Fusion. The two resident lecturers were Bruce Dutton and Martin Woods, both great communicators and experienced operators. I developed a close relationship with Marty and he became a valued mentor for a few years afterwards. There were 14 students in the course, the most memorable of whom was Dave Scheerhorn whose dry wit appealed to me greatly. We all lived onsite and there was a great emphasis on community building and group dynamics. We ate, played and prayed together and had the benefit of a range of guest teachers from around the country.

Our cohort at Fusion, 1988. Carolyn pregnant with Sophie with Martin behind and Bruce in the middle

In the schoolhouse, Dave next to Carolyn at the back.

 Along with youthwork and Biblical studies there were practical experiences. For me these included the DJ-ing on the Captain Moonlight radio station, lunchtime activities at the local high school and playing volleyball against the prisoners at Sale Gaol each Friday afternoon. The inmates welcomed us but also tried to intimidate us in order to win. One day they hit the ball out but claimed it was in. I called the ball out, retrieved the ball and gave it to our server. The hulk on the opposite side of the net looked me in the eye and said, “Are you the king?”. I said “No” and carried on with the game, hoping I hadn’t made myself a target and wondering what the ramifications of being identified as the king might be! 

Kilmany Park, the original estate. The small building in the foreground was the schoolhouse.

What Kilmany looked like during our time there. I believe it is now a Reception Venue.

Some of the history of Kilmany

Our time at Kilmany gave us a great chance to spend time with Auntie Ev and Uncle Ken who lived at Leongatha in South Gippsland. I was into silk-screen printing at the time which helped support us financially. I printed and sold T-shirts in Sale and Auntie Ev contracted me to print windcheaters for people they met while leading Marriage Encounter weekends. 

Our last visit to see Auntie Ev and Uncle Ken, a couple of months before she died

 

After finishing the course in Sale we returned to Perth and I took up a 12 month placement working with the Fusion Perth team which at times included Adrienne Inch, Russell Armstrong along with Rose and the new team member and soon to be husband, Andrew Braun. Rose and Andy are the epitome of hard-working, dedicated and faithful workers in the Fusion movement. I love their down-to-earth approach and their practical spirituality. 

Rose and Andy Braun and two of their three daughters, on a visit to Ocean Grove.

 

My work with Fusion centred on presenting seminars in local high schools and running ‘Great Escape’ day trips on weekends, fun action days for teenagers followed by community meals and a simple faith message geared towards young people. 

 

Two further opportunities opened up via the Fusion/youthwork network. 

 

The first was connecting with Laurie Haynes and Scripture Union- SUWA and the second was picking up a couple of days work a week coordinating the Chip Inn drop-in-centre at Warwick Church of Christ. 

After a less than impressive first meeting where my low-energy early morning appearance at a team briefing had him thinking I was one of the “resident youths” on the program rather than one of the leaders, we hit it off and began working together regularly. I loved partnering with Laurie running Warriuka Rafting camps. We took groups of high school outdoor ed students white water rafting on the Avon River, abseiling in the old quarries outside of Perth and caving around Margaret River. Laurie and I would start calling out “EMUUUUUU” to one another as we neared Emu Falls, the second largest rapids the kids would negotiate. Each night we camped beside the river, the kids cooked their dinner on Trangia stoves and then we gathered around the campfire to reflect on the day, tell stories and share our faith in an open forum, answering kids’ questions in a comfortable user-friendly atmosphere.  Warriuka camps would culminate at the spectacular Bell’s Rapids in the Avon Valley just outside of Perth. The late Tom Shackles had designed and built the fantastic two-person rafts the kids paddled and many long days were spent rafting and shooting rapids through the winter months when wetsuits were essential and campfires especially welcome.

Laurie and Sonia Haynes, the first time we'd seen them since they sailed their yacht around the world!

At the Asian Cup with Travis and Beau.

 

Laurie married Sonia and I told a few stories at the wedding about his less impressive exploits in the outdoors which is ironic because he was brilliant in leading outdoor adventure programs. Our careers have intertwined a few times since those early days. Some years later he became chaplain at Rockingham High School, an area I had done youthwork in and not long after that, I got the job as chaplain at Carine. While we were both school chaplains we worked together on the Wilderness Intervention Program, which I hope to write about in a future chapter. Fast forward another ten years and Laurie had qualified as a psychologist and the family had moved to Busselton, the same coastal town in south-west WA that Carolyn and I moved to in 2004. Like most of my Western Australian mates, I don’t get to see him very often but at some critical times in my life, Laurie has been there for me and my family, a fact I am deeply grateful for.

 

I will write more about my time at Chip Inn in another chapter but suffice to say here that my training with Fusion was a major influence on my work with teenagers during those years.

 

As our family grew our links with Fusion grew as well. By then Fusion had bought an old electricity workers’ village in Tasmania called Poatina and relocated their training centres and national administration there. Carolyn spent a week there doing their Foundations Course and was followed after he finished school by Zach. He went on to do the full six-month certificate 4 course that I had done at Kilmany Park but his placement was a little more exotic than mine. Fusion’s vision and influence had grown and spread internationally by then, with work happening in Britain, Greece, Albania, Japan, France among other places. Zach’s placement was in Britain and he spent 18 months learning and working with the Fusion crew around Oxford and growing dreadlocks. 

 

My links to Fusion these days are limited to providing financial support to Rose and Andy Braun in Perth and Martin and Jenny Woods in Japan. We catch up with Rose and Andy on occasional visits and enjoy hearing about the happenings in the lives of their three daughters Matilda, Jesse and Kiralee. I also had a recent reconnection of sorts with Bruce Dutton in my position as a referee for a mate who was applying for the job of Fusion CEO.

 

One of the most significant things I took from my time with Fusion is the value of debriefing and reflection. Bruce was fond of saying “We don’t learn from experience, we learn from reflecting on experience” and I have used the praxis model of action-reflection that Fusion modelled as a tool in all of my work with people since.

60 in 60 #19 Carine Part One.

 60 in 60 #19    Carine Part One. 

I am reflecting on the last 60 years, and writing 60 blog posts in 60 days. 30 about people and 30 about events, places, experiences and entities.

 

My last two years of high school were at Carine SHS in the northern suburbs of Perth, in 1978-79. Even though these were my best years at school, they were not without incident or trouble. I made a few friends which helped a lot and I got along well with the staff, mostly! but at some point in year twelve I went off the rails a little, resulting in me being suspended twice, once for swearing at a teacher and the other for offensive graffiti. Although I had a number of run-ins with the principal, Fred Marsh, who didn’t like the fact I wore unusual clothes such as waist coats to school, both suspensions were entirely justified.

Despite these disciplinary issues, I did have some successes as well. I captained the school football team in our first ever victory against Scarborough HS and I represented the school in a number of public speaking competitions including Youth Speaks for Australia. At the school graduation I won the English prize and the Public Speaking prize but Fred had the last laugh, writing me an underwhelming reference when I left.

 

Little did either of us suspect that a dozen years later I would return to work at Carine, especially not as the school’s inaugural chaplain! As described in chapter one of 60 in 60, after a few years of travelling around Australia and overseas I returned to Australia still searching for something and found it in the form of Jesus. My conversion to Christianity was based on evidence I found utterly compelling and convincing and therefore impossible to ignore. It resulted in a dramatic change in my values, attitudes and goals. I knew working with kids was my vocation, the addition of faith gave it a clearer purpose. School chaplaincy was in its infancy in WA but I could see it was a natural fit and when the job was advertised at Carine it seemed made for me. 

By that time Fred had retired and the new Principal was Cesare Digiulio. I think it’s fair to say Cesare took a little while to warm to me but in the end we became good friends and he was one of my strongest supporters. Cesare was a great leader who never missed an opportunity to support the students and attended every extra-curricular event they took part in, sporting, cultural or academic. I used to like making the joke that I was the only chaplain who could legitimately serve both God and Cesare!

 

Since the school had never had a chaplain I had a lot of scope to develop and shape the role. The brief was to provide pastoral care to the school community but the method was up to me and I embraced the opportunity with great enthusiasm. I spent the first year getting to know the students and staff and working out where I could be useful, what the needs were and how I might be able to respond to them.  

I was available as a supportive and caring listener, someone kids could talk to if they had a problem. I created a welcoming place, my office was something of an Aladdin’s cave, filled with posters, pictures, toys, puzzles, games, books and ephemera. In the end about a hundred toy planes and aircraft hung from the ceiling. Kids’ artwork was scattered around the room. There were comfortable armchairs and even a tiny fridge with cold drinks. More than a few parents were shocked upon entering my office but the students loved it and I had a steady stream of “clients” from the beginning. The issues kids came to talk about were often predictable: conflict with friends, bullying, trouble with a teacher or problems at home. I listened without judgement and provided empathy and encouragement and occasional pearls of wisdom. Sometimes though the issues were more serious: mental health challenges, sadness, loneliness, self-harm and suicidal feelings. In those instances I sometimes made referrals to other professionals or sought to get parents and families involved. 

 

I remember one day a year 10 girl revealed to me that she was suicidal. After listening to her and giving her reassurance that I cared about her I said we needed to tell her parents so that she could get support at home. I said “we’ve got three options, you can tell them, I can tell them or we can tell them together”. She asked me to help her so I arranged to visit the family at home that evening. I gently explained to them how their daughter was feeling, what some of the causes and issues were and what they could do to help her, including seeing a doctor and or a psychologist. I encouraged them to be open and willing to seek help and to do whatever they could to reassure their daughter that they loved and valued her. They assured me they would and the girl was grateful that such a difficult conversation had been had in an atmosphere of love and support.

Fast forward about three years. I was sitting in y office when the phone rang. It was the girl’s Dad calling. He said “I just want to thank you. That night changed our lives. My wife and I had no idea how ____ had been feeling. From that point on we got much more involved in her life, we changed things we did as a family, spent more time together, talked more, grew closer and happier. We’re doing really well and it all stemmed from that night when you came to talk to us”. The call was as gratifying as it was surprising and I still appreciate the sentiment and motivation to follow up a number of years later to affirm my role in helping his family.

 

Sadly, there were students at the school who didn’t seek the help they needed. Three year 10 girls made a pact to kill themselves and two of them jumped off a freeway overpass one Saturday night into the path of oncoming traffic. One died, the other was seriously injured. It was a devastating incident that sent shockwaves through the whole school community and made many of us acutely aware of the vulnerability of some teenagers and the risks they faced. The days after the suicide were powerful and dramatic. The bridge they had jumped off became a gathering place and a sort of shrine to their memory. Contagion is a huge risk after a suicide and we deeply feared that other kids may follow in their path. I spent several hours each afternoon “on duty” at the bridge, talking to kids and looking out for those at risk. This escalated on about the third day. There were 30-40 kids on the bridge and someone dropped a bunch of flowers onto the road beneath in peak hour traffic. A driver in a minivan seeing something fall from the bridge must have panicked, hit their brakes and swerved. In an instant they had crashed and rolled their vehicle 2-3 times right underneath the bridge. Kids were screaming, traffic was in chaos and pandemonium broke out on the bridge and on the road below. I heard one girl crying out, “It’s the same as Saturday night!” through her sobs. Thankfully the driver was not seriously hurt but from that point on the police got involved, patrolling the area and preventing kids from gathering on the bridge. At school, the student services team met each day to monitor how kids were going and organise necessary support. My role was to lead a memorial service at school for the girl who had died. It was held after school and was attended by over a hundred friends and peers. 

I had previous experience organising a memorial service a few years earlier for two girls who used to come to the Chip Inn drop-in centre at Warwick Church of Christ. They and their mother had been killed by their father in a murder suicide. It was a terrible time for the young people we worked with and the service was a very significant part of their grieving experience. I was guided by their friends in the music we played, the pictures we used and the words we said. The most powerful part of the service was when I opened the microphone to any of their friends who wanted to say anything or say goodbye. Dozens of grieving teenagers came out and spoke from their hearts about their sadness and the memories of their friends. They spoke with dignity and appreciated the opportunity to share their feelings and memories in such awful circumstances. They chose the music and to this day I can’t hear the songs we played without thinking about the two teenage girls who were killed and their hundreds of friends.

 

With this experience as a guide I designed a service at school that reflected on the girl who had died and gave voice to her friends as well as speaking to the issues of pain, sadness and suicide. We had a candle burning throughout and at the end of the service I reached out and snuffed the flame with my fingers and said, “This flame symbolises life but  _____ has chosen to put out her light by ending her life. She has caused untold sadness to you and her family by doing that. We don’t want anyone else to do that. We don’t want any more kids to die. If you need someone to talk to we are here, we care. Please ask for help.”

This was all a spontaneous action on my part. A colleague said to me later it was the most powerful moment of the whole service. 

A lot of things I did as school chaplain felt that way, me responding or acting in the moment, on impulse, led by prompting of the Spirit.

 

While it was never my intention, I ended up dealing with deaths and bereavements many more times in my role as a chaplain. The first time it happened followed the death of a little boy who was knocked off his bike and killed on the street beside the school. I was working with his brother in the Challenge Adventure Program that I ran for groups of students identified as low in confidence and self-esteem and had taken him and his family abseiling a few months earlier. His parents came to the school to see Cesare and specifically requested that I conduct their son’s funeral service. Of course I agreed to their request even though at that time I had never conducted a funeral. 

I had no idea at the time that it would be the first of over a dozen I would perform over the next fifteen years, for students, parents, grandparents and staff members. I became the go-to person in the school community when someone died and I became good at caring for people in grief. I treated each person with love and respect and worked hard to do the best job I possibly could in order to allow their family and friends to farewell them with grace,  care and dignity. I won’t detail them all but a couple of memories stand out, principally because they taught me so much about caring for people who are grieving and shaped my responses in the most difficult times and circumstances.

 

Around that time I was getting some physio treatment for a neck injury and unbeknownst to me, my physiotherapist was the older sister of the boy killed on his bike. She told me that during the funeral she had started to get angry at a certain point in my message when I said “I’m sure many of you are wondering or asking ‘why did this happen? Why did ____ have to die?’”

His sister said her anger rose because she thought I was about to try and explain why he had died, to give some reason, some religious cliché about it being God’s plan or purpose why her little brother was dead. She said her anger subsided when I went on to say, 

“I don’t know why this happened. I don’t know why _____ died. I can’t give you a reason or explanation. I can only tell you what I think we can learn as a result of it, that love is the most important thing in the world, that families are the most precious things we have. That we have to make the most of every day and every opportunity to tell and show people that we love them because we have no idea how long any of us have and that we need to make a priority of the things that really matter in life, the people we love and who love us”.

 

It taught me to never give cliched answers to the most profound questions or to try and explain deep mysteries as if I had divine insight or superior knowledge.

 

Another student was killed while on holiday in Malaysia. His friends approached me and asked if I would hold a memorial service for him. The school were wary of creating a culture of grief at the school and asked if I could arrange to have it at one of the local churches that supported the chaplaincy. It was fairly small, with about 20-30 kids in attendance. I hadn’t known the boy who died but had spent time with his friends as I prepared the service and learnt as much as I could about him. Apparently he had been in a bit of trouble and was seen as a bit of a problem-child at school. A few days later a small group of his friends came to my office to see me. They thanked me and said “You are the only person who never said anything negative about _____. When he died lots of people said stuff about him and the trouble he caused. We know he used to get into trouble and he did some things he shouldn’t have but you’re the only one who didn’t say anything about that or make him out to be a bad person. You treated his memory with respect. Thank you”.

It hadn’t been a conscious decision on my part, I had just tried to do the best job I could to honour the life of a young man and to care for his friends. It taught me the value and importance of being careful and considerate towards people in grief and not to judge.

 

A couple of weeks before the year 12s were due to graduate one year I received a phone call on a Sunday to tell me that a year 12 girl had been killed in a car crash. I didn’t know the girl but I found out her address and that afternoon I went to visit the family. It is one of the strongest memories I have from my time as chaplain. A woman answered the door and I introduced myself. She invited me in and I sat in the loungeroom with her parents and a couple who were close friends. The atmosphere was deeply sad, it felt like I had entered into the very presence of death. I didn’t say anything except that I was very sad to hear that ____ had died and if there was anything I could do I would. I then just sat with them in their grief, in their deeply wounded pain, in the overwhelming sadness of their loss. I didn’t try to offer any explanations or patronising commentary. I had nothing to offer other than my care, my time and my commitment to do whatever I could to support them. 

I learned in that moment the value of just being with people in grief without the need to do or say anything other than express sympathy and care. The four of them began to tell me about their daughter, what had happened, how the family dog had been injured in the crash and how they hoped it would survive, about their daughter’s friends, her sister and stories of their family. In their time of deepest pain they opened themselves to me and in the process began to share and remember and cry and grieve.

The next day they called me and asked if I would conduct the funeral service.

At school on the Monday morning there were waves of grief and sadness as more and more people learned what had happened. _____ had been popular with both staff and students and many people were affected by her death especially coming on the eve of final exams and graduation. An assembly of the year group was arranged for that morning and Tony Williamson, the beloved year 12 coordinator spoke to them but as he was speaking he was overcome with emotion and could not go on. Without warning he turned to me and said “Marcus…”. I had not expected to say anything but suddenly I was thrust into the ‘spotlight’. I thank God that in that moment I found words to say. I spoke to the kids about sadness and grief, about life and death, about despair and hope and about how _____ would not want them to give up on their hopes and dreams, that she would want them to do well in their exams and to celebrate their graduation. I then said, “I’d like to pray for you” I prayed for God to give them comfort and strength in their sadness. It was both spontaneous and profound, a moment when the divine and earthly were connected, with me as the unexpected conduit. 

The funeral was huge, held at Pinaroo Valley on a hot Saturday morning. Her family were very grateful for all I had done and many people expressed their thanks and appreciation for the service. I stayed in touch with the family for a couple of years and they even asked if I could preside at their other daughter’s wedding a few years later.

 

Before Carine entered the chaplaincy program there had been consultations with students, parents and staff regarding whether the school wanted a chaplain. One of the staff members who had opposed the idea was Max, a maths teacher and former league footballer. He didn’t have anything against me personally, he just didn’t believe a government school should have a religious affiliation. I didn’t have much to do with Max in the first few years but then he received some bad news, he had cancer. Being extremely fit Max was able to fight the disease for a couple of years as he underwent chemo and radiation therapy. He continued to teach and one day he came to my office and asked if I would perform his funeral service when the time came? For the next year and a half I walked beside Max as his health declined and the end drew near. I got to know his family. I visited him in hospital, I learned as much as I could of his story and prepared for the difficult task of farewelling a much-loved member of staff. Around this time I was coaching the school’s junior football team in the Channel 7 Cup. We had reached the Grand Final for the second year in a row, against Aquinas College. The game was a curtain-raiser before an AFL game at the WACA between Essendon and Fremantle. We had lost the previous year’s Grand Final to Aquinas and I wanted to do anything I could to inspire the boys to victory. I asked Max whether he would be willing to come and talk to the team about his experience as an East Perth player and pass on any tips before the big game. He was no longer teaching by then but readily agreed to come and speak to the kids and many of them told me afterwards how much of an impact it had on them. We went on to win the Grand Final and I like to think Max had a small part in our triumph.

 

A few months later Max succumbed to the disease and I was called on to perform my final act of service for him and his family. With so many friends and colleagues there I felt an extra level of pressure to do a good job. I confided to the mourners that Max had initially opposed the school getting a chaplain. The feedback I received affirmed that I had passed the test and I think it reinforced in many people’s minds, and convinced a few of the remaining doubters, of the value of the chaplaincy. A couple of years later I was asked by the family to officiate at the wedding of his son which was a joyous occasion. Sadly, another couple of years later I was called upon again by the family, this time for the funeral of Max’s widow who had died of a broken heart.

 

Forgive me if I have created the impression that being the chaplain at Carine was all about sadness grief and death. It wasn’t, there were so many good and positive happy memories, which I will write about in another chapter, but these were amongst the most significant and profound experiences  and I wanted to do justice to them.