tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90135758907038863682024-03-08T11:27:56.225+11:00HoltPressMarcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.comBlogger1367125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-36244105225321391042023-08-30T22:07:00.001+10:002023-08-30T22:07:19.766+10:0060 in 60(62) #33 David<p> It's been a long hiatus between chapters in this random journey through the last 60 years. So much so, it's now 62 years! The initial burst of energy passed, as did the semi-regular additions. The energy has subsided but the vision is not dead. God willing I will carry on and even complete the series. As a down payment on that "promise", here is a new chapter, about my mate David. He celebrated a milestone birthday on the weekend and I wrote a poem in his honour and read it during the "formal" part of the party. It was well received.</p><p>A little context is required.</p><p>In the period after losing my job as a school chaplain in Busselton, I worked for SW Coachlines, driving school buses and doing charter work. One such job saw me drive a group of gynaecologists up to Perth airport after a conference at Bunker Bay. By good fortune, David sat in the first seat and upon hearing his English accent I struck up a conversation and quickly discovered we had something in common: a passion for Tottenham Hotspur. The three hour journey was largely consumed with talk of our beloved Spurs. At the airport we exchanged numbers and thus began an ongoing (and continuing) sms dialogue shaped by the results and fortunes of Tottenham. </p><p>David and his family live in Melbourne so when we moved back to Victoria in late 2010 our relationship evolved from text-based to occasional face-to-face contact. Apart from EPL connections we also both love AFL and most sports, though sadly he barracks for Carlton. We've been to Cats v Blues games, the Boxing Day test, the One Day World Cup Final, a couple of Wallabies games, and best of all, a Spurs game at the MCG during an end of season tour down under. </p><p>Our friendship has grown closer and extends to our wives and families. Busyness and distance don't allow for a lot of time together but I always enjoy catching up with him. A couple of months ago David and Orla were returning from a conference in Adelaide and stopped in at my place in Nhill for lunch and a quick visit. </p><p>Therefore, it was great to be able to attend his birthday celebration, and to share some verses in his honour. One more piece of context; In the lead-up to the party I privately messaged the people on the guest list and invited them to contribute a story or anecdote about David and to tell me how they met. I was able to weave several of these stories into the finished work. And here it is:</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 21pt;">The Ballad of David Wrede.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 21pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 21pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">A long long time ago in a land far far away<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">An event occurred that we celebrate today<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">It was a birth of dodgy noble lineage<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">A murky mix of ancestral parentage<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Yes three score years ago and five<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Though surely no one else here was yet alive<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">To bear witness to this momentous deed<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The birth of our much loved David Wrede<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Little is known of his early years<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Either that or no one cares<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">To delve that far back in history<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">So his childhood can remain a mystery<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">His Mum and Dad, Dilys and Casper <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Met while learning to be actors<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I don’t know if his childhood was mild or wild<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">But suffice to say David is an only child<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Of mysteries concerning our aged friend<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">One stands out and may never end<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">It defies understanding and rationality<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">But what exactly is his nationality?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">It changes often, depending on the situation<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">As to his loyalty to any particular nation<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">British by birth, a pom that’s the ticket<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">At least when it comes to the Ashes and cricket<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">His namesake and he have enjoyed many a day<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Watching the Poms and the Aussies at play<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Usually at the mighty Melbourne Cricket Ground<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">But once also at Lords, cricket’s most sacred ground<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I have no desire his reputation to diminish<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">But another possibility is that David is Finnish<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">A Baron no less is his noble claim<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">And perhaps we mispronounce his name?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I have no proof but nor a reason to think he <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Doesn’t bear some title in Helsinki<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">But I suspect if the Finns were playing the Aussies<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">He’d be there dressed in a Viking Cozzy<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Don’t ask me if the Finns were actually Vikings<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">They could have been Danes or Icelandic kings<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">They’re all from somewhere in the Nordic regions<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">And David will surely claim some allegiance<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Of course he also purports at times to be Irish<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Whether tis genuine or a wish to be stylish<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Talking of stylish and the Irish nation<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">We all agree he married well above his station<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">We all applaud Orla, his partner for life<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">His colleague, his boss and also his wife<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">A finer pair it would be hard to find<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">A meeting of hearts, of souls and of minds<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">They married in the Millennial year<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">A joyous occasion it would appear<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">More blessing followed three years on <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">When their lovely daughter Ciara was born<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">They had a test run in 1998<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">And agreed Australia is pretty great mate<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Though it took another eleven long years<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Before they finally emigrated here<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">But back to this vexed question we’re pondering<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">As to his nationality, we’re all still wondering<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Why, when a few years ago he became a citizen of Australia<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">His loyalty to the Southern Cross is such an abject failure?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">This land that welcomed him with open arms<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">This land of so many quirks and charms<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Sadly moved him when he came to choose<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">To barrack for the bloody Blues<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">And worse than that, this year they’ve awoken<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Playing finals, but hopefully just a token<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Appearance in the early rounds will suffice<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">To <b>NOT</b> hear Da Da da da da would be nice<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">David studied medicine at Cambridge I believe<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I doubt St Thomas was sad to see him leave<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">After some Christmas Day shenanigans in 1984<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">When poor Cedric in the A&E caused uproar<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">As Phil recounts the tale, the bosses weren’t impressed<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">But ignorant or oblivious to the state of distress<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The Casualty Officer, one David Wrede I’ll distinguish<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Went hunting for a fire to extinguish<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Boredom relieving fun was surely intentioned <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">But I believe the term unprofessional was mentioned<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">It’s not a term used now about our illustrious physician<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">By all accounts he’s greatly respected in the profession<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">A good number of guests gathered here today<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">And some who couldn’t make it all wanted to say<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">How much they love and respect the man of the hour<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">No upper class twit in an ivory tower<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">A few did say their first impression was mistaken<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">And once past the accent they were thoroughly taken<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">With the love and the passion, the friendship and loyalty<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">They began to believe in the tales of royalty<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Russell for instance, upon meeting at Williamstown<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Took a chance and invited him to the races at Terang town<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">David quickly adapted to the country hospitality<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">And enjoyed the event with much conviviality<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Of course, we all know, our friend is shy and quiet<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Just don’t mention Boris or the Tories or Brexit<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">But Russell divulged a juicy tidbit for these scribbles<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">That to them our David is known as Dribbles<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">A reference not based on a lack of manners or civility<br />But apparently on his google-like ability<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">To dribble out knowledge, facts and opinions<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Which he readily shares with his colleagues and minions<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">And when we’ve all had enough of his forthright ranting<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">There’s another forum he loves to expound in<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Yes Facebook is the place for venting his spleen <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">He’ll argue with KBWs unknown and unseen<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">As you know, David is a long-suffering Spurs fan<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">He’s Tottenham ‘til he dies, a true Lilywhite man<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">From McKay and Greaves to Gazza and Waddle<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">He’s loved them all, from Perryman to Hoddle<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">That’s how we became mates and remain to this day<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Following a bus trip to Perth from Bunker Bay<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">A meeting of spirits, two Tottenham tragics<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">From a chance encounter the outcome’s been magic<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Therefore I’m surprised at a few people who’ve come<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Yes those Woolwich invaders, the Gooners, the Scum<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">There’s Scousers here too I’m led to believe<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">If it were up to me I’d ask them all to leave<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">But it’s testimony to David’s good humour and grace<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">That he welcomes the enemy into this place<br />Georgina for example who upon collecting Antonia revealed<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">She felt for David as he watched Spurs lose 4-0 at Anfield<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">On the occasion of Ciara’s high school formal <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">David’s fatherly instincts were stretched more than normal<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Under great sufferance he remained stoic I promise<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Despite Ciara’s date being a gooner named Thomas<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Antonia and Ciara are best friends from school <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Who once went with David and Orla to a music festival<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Expecting the cool jazz that our hero favours<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The weird mix of sound was not quite to their flavour<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Other friends here today are connected by Irish jigs<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The weird armless world of fake tans and wigs<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Ciara’s dancing endeavours led to parental connections<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Which Martina describes with sincere affection<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Ange did take exception to his choice of footy team<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">And his Melbourne Club excursions where no women are seen<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">She also mentioned during the Ashes some poor behaviour <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Especially when Steve Smith looked like being our saviour<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Our hero is known by many titles and names<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Doctor, David , Dribbles and Casper the same<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">As his Dad but who knows which is his fave?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Just whatever you do, don’t call him Dave<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">On occasions like this one tries digging for dirt<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">But it turned out all respondents were keen to assert<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The genuine love and respect that they hold<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">For Doctor David Wrede and his heart of gold<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I asked people how they met, how their friendship began<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Many replied that through work was how they met our man<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Doctors and nurses, gynaecologists and obstetricians<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Members of the understaffed and overworked profession<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">And in truth, man woman and child, as one all agreed<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">They love and admire our dear David Wrede<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Susan summed it up best when she said<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“He is genuinely one of the nicest people I’ve ever met”.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Unanimously they agreed as they reflected<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">How much he is loved, admired and respected<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I’m sorry I can’t recount all the stories and names<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">If we don’t blow the candles out soon the house may go up in flames<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">We’ve watched Boxing Day cricket and Spurs at the G <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The Cats play the Blues and Ireland beat the Wallabies<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Lunches at wineries, crazy bidding for toys<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Regular Spurs texts all ending with COYS<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">David let me finish by saying I love you, our friendship I treasure<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Though our shared love of Tottenham brings more pain than pleasure<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I hope one day that we’ll realise our dream<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">And watch a Spurs game together in N17<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">As I wind up these verses I just want to say<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I give thanks for our meeting on the bus that day<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Your generosity and care have blessed me time and again<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I am honoured like all here, to call you my friend.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikGSJlcbVM4OMys_qW8wO8BLsOrQBCGHRjkJPcREY6wIXjMKk6IM165W-Fg3eqbedtItERukw3XvQOS2U3lODGjch1kOt8vy7wq2y2R05AMgiX77k_t-HfXIXjsgc9t_tC2xO05VV0ZhvS7RDFvr9SLFdlYaLDHrDeh1wyDI5JYg8kV0ircPFgbn0yMJk/s4032/IMG_2665.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="437" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikGSJlcbVM4OMys_qW8wO8BLsOrQBCGHRjkJPcREY6wIXjMKk6IM165W-Fg3eqbedtItERukw3XvQOS2U3lODGjch1kOt8vy7wq2y2R05AMgiX77k_t-HfXIXjsgc9t_tC2xO05VV0ZhvS7RDFvr9SLFdlYaLDHrDeh1wyDI5JYg8kV0ircPFgbn0yMJk/w583-h437/IMG_2665.HEIC" width="583" /></a></div><br /><o:p><br /></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-54398566301747968302022-04-18T02:35:00.003+10:002022-04-18T02:35:58.042+10:0060 in 60 #32 Busselton Pt 2<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">60 in 60 #32 Busselton Part 2.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I am reflecting on the last 60 years, and writing 60 blog posts. 30 about people and 30 about events, places, experiences and entities.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Busselton was a great place to live, work and raise our family. It’s quiet, pretty, near the beach, near the bush and not too far away from Perth which enabled me to go up to the city fairly often and stay in touch with my mates and the footy.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><img alt="Is there an Airport Shuttle Bus from Busselton? - Airport Shuttle Perth" class="rg_i Q4LuWd" data-ils="4" height="306" jsaction="rcuQ6b:trigger.M8vzZb;" jsname="Q4LuWd" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSJiGq0IwDtzNLW1hKpY3o68tqG9ZFaT9VR_A&usqp=CAU" width="630" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Sophie Jordan and Paul all went to Cornerstone College where Graeme Cross was Principal and Stu Robinson was the Bursar. Paul started playing soccer for Cornerstone on a Saturday morning and within a couple of seasons I was coaching his team. I coached the same core group of kids for the next several seasons as they played against local teams from Capel, Margaret River, Dunsborough and Busso. Jordy played for the older team for a few seasons as well but it was Paulie who had the most talent. He always loved playing sports of all kinds and was naturally good at most things. In his last couple of years in Busso he played for the Leeuwin-Geographe rep team at Country Week up in Perth.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Meanwhile, Cornerstone got better each year as the kids matured and learned to play as a team and employ the tactics and skills I was teaching them. Coaching was fun most of the time but early games on a Saturday morning could be challenging because I had taken on a second job, driving taxis on a Friday and Saturday night. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I’ve always been a night owl, and I enjoy driving so with that skill set, driving cabs suited me pretty well and brought in some handy extra dollars. The regular pick-up points were the Nade (Esplanade Hotel), the Ship Hotel and the wine bar in the main street. I’d pick passengers up from all over the district and bring them into town sober, then collect them and take them home drunk late at night. The pubs shut at 1.00am and the rush hour usually lasted a couple of hours. Regular fares to and from Dunsborough were profitable, occasional fares to Margaret River or Bunbury were lucrative and one time, a fare to Perth cost the passenger $330 and toward the end of the trip he was trying to convince me he was Jesus! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Most passengers were good most of the time but every now and then they got under my skin, or were abusive, or did a runner. I saw plenty of strange things on the long nights in the cab and drank plenty of Vanilla Diet Cokes to keep me going. It was not uncommon to get a fare that just wanted to go out to the “24 houry” servo for a feed of greasy junk food after a night on the grog, or to be taken through Maccas drive-through when it came to town because they wouldn’t serve walk through customers. It was not uncommon to pick up kids I knew from work and teachers too. Nick and Kerry Fucile were frequent customers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><img alt="Busselton Taxis" class="n3VNCb" data-noaft="1" height="329" jsaction="load:XAeZkd;" jsname="HiaYvf" src="https://busseltontaxis.com.au/wp-content/uploads/sites/233/2018/07/slider_bg2.jpg" style="height: 394.8572727272727px; margin: 0px; width: 602px;" width="501" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">So after a late night behind the wheel, it was quite an effort to drag myself out of bed to go and coach the kids but I’m glad I did. They were full of energy and enthusiasm and Paul along with 3-4 others were very good players. The highlight came in my last game in charge prior to our move to Victoria. We had made it to the Grand Final against Busselton United to be played at Margaret River on a Saturday morning. My niece Aimee was to be married in Perth in the afternoon! Cornerstone were the underdogs but the kids played out of their skins and thanks to a brilliant free kick goal from Ben Cross we won the game 1-0 and the Cup. I barely had time to hug and high five the kids and parents before jumping in the car and heading for the wedding, making it with minutes to spare.</p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MsO-9Cb5BNrvEH40fKqtba-toKR4qL0X3mLvZe1WsjQQn4BFqwjURtYyLacjJhfFzGXFFKXZ-qVsanB-GOFMXWjNZqYhPGbHNbeUCzfBaCojsL1cjfW0KzrkQBzh3CVQX1T91N3aOuHCtTYA4YrBrxUm33c6C6KTTy_I32-Xdd0NiEftJcCNqCUo/s4032/IMG_9271.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MsO-9Cb5BNrvEH40fKqtba-toKR4qL0X3mLvZe1WsjQQn4BFqwjURtYyLacjJhfFzGXFFKXZ-qVsanB-GOFMXWjNZqYhPGbHNbeUCzfBaCojsL1cjfW0KzrkQBzh3CVQX1T91N3aOuHCtTYA4YrBrxUm33c6C6KTTy_I32-Xdd0NiEftJcCNqCUo/w538-h404/IMG_9271.jpg" width="538" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Nick was responsible for a brief revival in my own sporting career when he invited me to join the Busselton Masters footy team, footy for old blokes. They were a great bunch of blokes and it was fun but as I told Carolyn, I had enough energy to chase after the ball, or to bend down and pick it up, but not both! I played about 20 games all up over the 6 years and even picked up a medal for being in the best players at one of the carnivals in Perth but it was obvious to me, and anyone who was watching, that my best football was a long long way behind me. I also played volleyball all the time we were in Busso, sometimes with kids from the high school as they prepared for Country Week but most of the time with mates. We played A Grade which was very competitive, they take their volleyball very seriously in Busselton. We were 2 sets up in a preliminary final in one season when I came down from a block and landed on an opponent’s foot across the net from me badly twisting my ankle and necessitating a trip to hospital in an ambulance. Not only did it signal the end of my volleyball career, the team went on to lose the prelim 3-2 in my absence!! I was the referees coordinator for 3-4 years as well.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Sport in Aussie country towns brings communities together and it provided me with opportunities to establish my role at the school as well. As mentioned in the last chapter I coached the footy team in interschool competition although without the success I’d experienced at Carine. Each year schools from all over regional Western Australia send teams of upper school students to Perth to compete at Country Week in all sorts of sports, from footy and soccer to netball and dance. I went as soccer coach the first year and volleyball coach the next before taking on a much bigger role as Country Week Manager. I had watched a teacher do it the previous year and felt frustrated and annoyed as she continually berated the kids in the lead-up, hassling them about forms and fees and always seeming to come from a place of anger and harshness. I asked the Principal if I could take on the job and she happily consented. I’d like to think I brought a kinder gentler spirit to the job. The team grew to over 100 kids and a dozen staff so there was a lot to organise but it all went off pretty smoothly. John Duthie, head of PE was a great ally and Nick brought character and humour to his coaching of the girls hockey “Nick’s Chicks with Sticks”. One year the bloke who normally arranged our lunch catering wasn’t available so I employed Sophie to do the food and after a shaky first day she quickly got it sussed and did a great job feeding the masses. I rejigged the evening programs to cut down on unnecessary bus travel by utilising venues in the city for the Country Week dinner and a night out at the movies. I spent each day in the car visiting all the different sports venues, dropping off lunches, taking injured kids to hospital and dealing with stuff that needed doing. I loved it and continued in the role of Country Week Manager even after I left the chaplaincy.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl-f5I3HofRvjP0m-wpbv4R8qXFSRZOVLSsuWCxcsZEJqkoP4bRo8tjsjOIctbHBXqiyWG1euxVccxyaabCh9zR2kHk1z615vcP_6qfoHdbArlik_WvGlGgFhIc_1kNGRXlSo62hC1xVNA2UHJzETotJ0EsLeHRD8LQBN2UPsQeDty-A9DshP5mJiT/s259/Comm%20Games%202006.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="369" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl-f5I3HofRvjP0m-wpbv4R8qXFSRZOVLSsuWCxcsZEJqkoP4bRo8tjsjOIctbHBXqiyWG1euxVccxyaabCh9zR2kHk1z615vcP_6qfoHdbArlik_WvGlGgFhIc_1kNGRXlSo62hC1xVNA2UHJzETotJ0EsLeHRD8LQBN2UPsQeDty-A9DshP5mJiT/w493-h369/Comm%20Games%202006.jpeg" width="493" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p>In 2006 the Commonwealth Games were held in Melbourne. Having had such a brilliant experience at the Sydney Olympics with the kids in 2000 I was very keen to take the younger two, Jordan and Paul to Melbourne. I just needed an excuse. Then it hit me, organise a school trip and take a bunch of kids from Busselton! Brilliant! Thankfully Raelene, the Principal didn’t object and cautiously supported my plan. I think she secretly doubted I could pull it off given the short time frame but I’m always up for a challenge and promptly put out a notice calling for kids who were interested, to come to a meeting at lunchtime a couple of days later. I had put together a budget and itinerary for a 10 day trip that would cost about $1000, covering airfares, Comm Games tickets, accommodation, transport and food. I was delighted when over a dozen kids turned up to the meeting although slightly surprised that they were all girls except for one boy! Disappointingly rather than invite a few mates he dropped out, leaving me with a group of 12 girls all keen to go, along with my two boys and a female PE teacher.</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We got busy, I applied for tickets to as many different events as I could, one day and one night event each day, booked the airfares and set about finding accommodation.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I called on the chaplaincy network to make contact with some schools in Melbourne that would consider billeting our group and I was rapt when Chris Helm, chaplain at Box Forest College in Glenroy contacted me to say they were keen. It turned out that Chris is the drummer in a very cool indie band called Skipping Girl Vinegar when he’s not being a chaplain. I went over to Melbourne to meet him and the Principal, Cheryl Baulch who was super supportive of the whole idea and when it turned out to be too hard to get enough billets for us all, offered to let us stay in the school itself. We could use a couple of unused classrooms as our quarters and had access to the Home Ec room opposite to prepare and eat our meals. It was a perfect arrangement and suited us down to the ground as it made coordinating our movements and transport much easier. They even gave us the school bus to use to get to some events that weren’t as easy to get to by train. To top it all off, Chris picked us up from Avalon airport on arrival and dropped us back there the day we flew home.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The Commonwealth Games were great and we saw hockey, swimming, cycling, athletics, basketball, volleyball, table tennis, squash, weightlifting and boxing. I had made ID cards on lanyards for everyone and when we all bought the same zip-up track jackets with “Australia” on the back we started getting asked what were the girls competing in? as people mistook them for athletes and me as their coach! Needless to say the kids loved it! There were night activities at Birrung Marr, along the banks of the Yarra, shopping at the Queen Victoria Markets, tram and train rides and the wonderful atmosphere across Melbourne to enjoy and the 10 days flew by. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">There were two unexpected outcomes from the Comm Games trip. The first to do with a fish, the second to do with footy.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Throughout the course of the games and featured in the opening ceremony, at the MCG, were a series of 72 large fish sculptures on barges on the Yarra, each representing one of the countries competing in Melbourne and typifying a fish found in their nation’s waters. They were lit up at night and with “Unguarded Moment” by The Church playing all along the riverbank they made a spectacular sight, creating a beautiful ambience for the crowds of people out each evening. I said to the girls one night, “I wonder what they’re going to do with those fish after the Games are over? Wouldn’t it be cool to get one of those fish for Busselton?” They looked at me strangely and kept walking.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">But!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Imagine my surprise and delight a few weeks after we got home when I came across a small article in the newspaper saying that seven of the Commonwealth Games fish sculptures were being auctioned off on ebay with the proceeds going to PLAN, the official charity partner of the Games. I sprang into action and started calling and visiting people all over town, creating a network of supporters willing to contribute some money to a fund in order to buy a fish for Busselton. My idea was greeted quite warmly and people started pledging amounts from $50 to $500 and giving me suggestions of people to call. One of these became the game-changer when I called a bloke called Ray who worked for Pro-Busselton, an agency whose mandate was to promote the town through initiatives that raised the profile of Busselton. He was fully on-board, and even suggested we should bid on all seven fish! We had a budget of about $7000!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><img alt="Fish Sculptures from the 2006 Commonwealth Games" class="img-fluid" src="https://www.melbourneplaygrounds.com.au/images/embed-commonwealth-games-fish.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The night before the auction ended I had to take a trip up to Perth and back, something I rarely did in the one day, let alone the one night. The bidding finished the next morning at about 8am WA time so I was a little groggy when I logged on to ebay. The kids were standing behind me to watch the action. Most serious bidding on ebay happens in the last few minutes and that’s exactly what occurred, the prices started jumping very quickly, by hundreds and thousands of dollars. Some were already out of our price range but I was alive in two auctions in the last minute. As quickly as I’d enter a 4-digit figure I’d be outbid. I kept bidding higher and watching the numbers shoot up across the screen. In the end I managed to win one auction, for the African Bony-Tongue fish sculpture from The Gambia, for about $4500. It was exciting, exhilarating and nerve-wracking, especially bidding with other people’s money. In total the sale of the seven sculptures raised over $28,000 for PLAN I think.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The next job was to get it from Melbourne to Busselton. I called my mate Gary who builds large machinery and asked if he had a transport contact he could recommend. He did and I made the arrangements to get it on a semi-trailer, but before that it needed wrapping for protection. I called Chris from Box Forest and by fortuitous coincidence, he and the members of Skipping Girl Vinegar were only a couple of kilometres away and were happy to help. They bought a big roll of bubble wrap and went to work wrapping my fish. A couple of weeks later it arrived in Busso but sadly that’s where this fishy tale went bad. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><img alt="The Gambia" class="img-fluid" height="370" src="https://www.melbourneplaygrounds.com.au/images/fish-the-gambia.jpg" width="493" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Our fish, An African Bony-Tongue</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Initial enthusiasm waned, the council weren’t keen on having it or putting it on display even though there was a perfect location at the entrance to the town. It was stored at the Men’s Shed for several months before being moved to the high school and living outside the art department. I hoped it would be attached to the wall of the art building but by the time we left Busselton in early 2010 it had still not found a permanent home and when I last asked about it no-one seemed to know what had happened to it. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">However, in researching for this article I came across a couple of websites that tell a little more of the story and even give a clue to it’s whereabouts. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I was contacted by a girl online a couple of years ago who has made it her personal quest to track down each of the 72 Fish and she has a blog detailing her mission, complete with photographs, <a href="https://www.australianpublictart.com/p/72-big-fish-of-commonwealth-games.html" style="color: #954f72;">Fish Blog</a> I even get a mention if you click on the map.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">After the Comm Games most of the sculptures were given to shires all over Victoria and I have seen several of them in towns around the state in my travels. We actually stopped to look at one at Anglesea this afternoon. The fish I bought was the only one to leave Victoria. This website, <a href="https://www.melbourneplaygrounds.com.au/location-of-fish-sculptures-from-the-2006-commonwealth-games#.Ylwicy8RodU" style="color: #954f72;">Fish locations</a>, details information about the names, origin and known locations of the fish now.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">After the success of the Commonwealth Games trip I began thinking of other possibilities and that led to me running two footy trips to Melbourne in 2008 and 2009. It wasn’t hard to find kids who loved football and who wanted to spend a week in Melbourne going to as many footy games as possible! Box Forest were happy to have us again and I managed to get good airfares and footy tickets to make the trips affordable. We went during the July holidays so the kids didn’t miss any school. On the first trip in 2008 I took ten kids and we went to Carlton v St Kilda on Friday night, Geelong v Fremantle and Essendon v Brisbane on Saturday and Hawthorn v Sydney on Sunday as well as the Queen Vic markets, National Gallery and Melbourne Discovery Centre. At the end of the trip the other staff accompanied the kids back to WA while I flew up to Sydney to join my mate Alex for the Pope’s visit for World Youth Day.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg16bRkI2g6l2hqJn23_5VvO7YFNZpsjJ2CoFeb4UpIRahZ1pgwEQl3hSoaxnm4d5TZL_Fk25ki3OYyJldKXefmArVqzEmT9MsKWftQIER9PHsiKqXgnJkNcNMDLDxEWYKFfQz-E0ppa9QLVNIbMUVpYcQdFesdYj1SbCGsNyVskS-r-eyQAUjQtpp/s4032/IMG_9268.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg16bRkI2g6l2hqJn23_5VvO7YFNZpsjJ2CoFeb4UpIRahZ1pgwEQl3hSoaxnm4d5TZL_Fk25ki3OYyJldKXefmArVqzEmT9MsKWftQIER9PHsiKqXgnJkNcNMDLDxEWYKFfQz-E0ppa9QLVNIbMUVpYcQdFesdYj1SbCGsNyVskS-r-eyQAUjQtpp/w352-h469/IMG_9268.jpg" width="352" /></a> </o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrByKwC9-VIS1KdOnw1UQ7zCf3WoyTsWt0vajM-g76Uk6qGRhTn4q8C5UF0BGbcTtcBYFU6rKgxV1eInRgpk_jWBaEMCLlUaXqiMUyVuYlTsEiuVJkaSc3866ycAgqePH6mbqN_xIHJ2-_xeWDREnsr7MNEyN_lrwwlIOR4FaLVPali3D6-HtXLSEG/s4032/IMG_9269.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="473" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrByKwC9-VIS1KdOnw1UQ7zCf3WoyTsWt0vajM-g76Uk6qGRhTn4q8C5UF0BGbcTtcBYFU6rKgxV1eInRgpk_jWBaEMCLlUaXqiMUyVuYlTsEiuVJkaSc3866ycAgqePH6mbqN_xIHJ2-_xeWDREnsr7MNEyN_lrwwlIOR4FaLVPali3D6-HtXLSEG/w355-h473/IMG_9269.jpg" width="355" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">In 2009 Geelong and St Kilda remained unbeaten until their epic encounter in Round 14 and as anticipation of this clash grew I set about organising another footy trip. I was more ambitious this time and worked out a schedule that took us to six games over two weekends including a stopover in Adelaide on the way home. Fourteen kids signed up for the trip including one brave girl and Sophie came with us. It was a fantastic trip except for one thing. Between the group we barracked for six different teams but not one of us saw our team win! </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The Cats v Saints game at Docklands was a classic, befitting their status at the top of the ladder and the biggest crowd ever at Docklands saw a thriller with St Kilda winning by a goal after a goal from Cameron Ling in the last minute was disallowed. They met again a few months later in the 2009 Grand Final and this time the Cats got up by 12 points to win the flag, but as detailed in chapter 24 of “60 in 60” that did not end well for me.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Between the weekends of footy we took a trip to Sovereign Hill at Ballarat and stayed a night at a school there then stopped for a kick of the footy at Hanging Rock on the way back. We went to the AFL Hall of Fame and National Sports Museum as well as going down to Geelong for a day. I had arranged another school to stay at in Adelaide which worked out well but the Dockers got absolutely thrashed by the Crows that night to finish off a series of six losing games.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><img alt="Article Image" class="dsf-article-image" height="328" loading="lazy" src="https://cdn.newsapi.com.au/image/v1/b3b43d66120db0dba317edb84b7b31cd?width=320" width="438" /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The following is an excerpt form chapter 24 about the Geelong v St Kilda game.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><i>Now, in 2009, with the big game approaching I hit on the idea of running a footy trip and taking a group from Busso to Melbourne. I asked Sophie to come with me to help run the trip. Fourteen kids signed up and I got busy organising everything, including staying at Box Forest again. The biggest challenge was securing tickets for the Geelong St Kilda game. On the morning they were released I frantically logged on to Ticketmaster and bought batches of tickets in groups of 4 or 5 as I knew it would be too hard to get 16 tickets all together. I was successful. My group of West Aussie kids had tickets for the game of the season. The trip itinerary included five other games across two weekends of the school holidays with a stopover in Adelaide to see Fremantle play the Crows on the way home.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><i>The trip was fantastic and the game lived up to all the hype and expectation. It was a cliff hanger, with Cameron Ling kicking a goal to level the score in the last minute, only to have it ruled out by a free kick to St Kilda and the Saints hung on to win by 6 points. It is often talked about as one of the best games in AFL history and certainly whetted people’s appetites for a rematch in the finals.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Life in Busso was not all about sport though. I will conclude the Busselton section of 60 in 60 next time with stories about many other things that happened during our six years down south.<o:p></o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-31307097237427531072022-03-27T01:40:00.007+11:002022-03-28T21:23:45.066+11:0060 in 60 #31 Busselton<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">60 in 60 #31</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Busselton</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I am reflecting on the last 60 years, and writing 60 blog posts. 30 about people and 30 about events, places, experiences and entities. NB. I did not want to leave such a long gap between posts but starting a new job has taken up most of my time and energy so far this year. I will keep writing until I reach the goal but some chapters may end up under the title "60 in 61"!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">As a family we were part of the Augusta Beach Mission/Family Festival for 12 years, spending two weeks each January with a large team of volunteers running programs for children, teenagers and adults at Turner Caravan Park in the south-west of WA. I have fantastic memories of many many great experiences during our time at Augusta but the prompt for this chapter is something that happened on our way home from Beach Mission in January 2004.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><img alt="Busselton WA (Western Australia) cruise port schedule | CruiseMapper" class="n3VNCb" data-noaft="1" jsaction="load:XAeZkd;" jsname="HiaYvf" src="https://www.cruisemapper.com/images/ports/5490-fad5168b695.jpg" style="height: 331.1px; margin: 0px; width: 602px;" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We stopped in Busselton to get some lunch, possibly fish and chips, to eat by the foreshore.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Busselton was a quiet little town on Geographe Bay, the quiet cousin of the more popular and more up-market Margaret River just down the road. It boasts the longest jetty in the southern hemisphere but for several years the last section was inaccessible following damage caused by cyclone Alby.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">After a peaceful lunch we bundled the kids back in the car for the trip back to Perth.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Carolyn remarked “I love Busselton”. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I replied casually, “The chaplaincy position at the high school is open”.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Without drawing breath she said “Do you want to apply for it?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I was surprised by the enthusiasm and excitement in her tone, I had only mentioned it in passing, not with any intent, but it became clear as we talked that Carolyn was VERY keen on the idea. She has always loved being near the ocean and prefers small towns to big cities so I could see the attraction.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I should point out at this point that I was extremely happy and settled in my role as chaplain at Carine. I had built the role up from inception to become an established and respected part of the school, I loved the staff and students, I was running successful programs and was highly involved in the life and culture of the school. I wasn’t looking for a change, in fact, I could have very happily still been at Carine now, but my casual comment was the catalyst for a dramatic change in our lives.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We talked about the pros and cons of the job at Busselton most of the way home and by the time we got back to Perth it was settled, I would apply for the job. But, I then discovered that applications closed the following day!!!!! Eeek! Panic stations! I got straight to work pulling together a resume and application, identifying referees and responding to the selection criteria. It was a rushed job but I got it in before the deadline.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I said to Carolyn, “This is a big decision and we need to be sure it’s right or that we are confident it’s where God is leading us.” I told her that given the fact I had 11 years experience as a chaplain there was a strong likelihood I would get the job, so just getting the job was not enough of a confirmation. We set about testing the water by talking to several people whose views and wisdom we respected to see what they thought.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I rang Dad to talk it over. He was not a believer but he was very positive about moving to a small country town and said the job sounded like a good move to him. I rang Paul in the States to discuss it and he was similarly positive. NB. Paul and I had ridden our bikes around Busselton a few years earlier when he came to Beach Mission with us so he knew the town, and the jetty because we’d been told off for trying to ride our bikes out onto it!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We invited a group of friends to come for a BBQ and asked them their thoughts about the move. My mate Birchy told me that for him, the most important factor in a big decision is how did the family feel about it? As the father of 8 kids he obviously has a greater accountability to family than most people! I told him that Carolyn and the kids were 100% on board and at that stage I was the only one still uncertain. He responded that the other guide for him was prayer and a sense of God’s leading. At that point in the discussion I mentioned that I remembered something I’d written in the margin of my Bible years earlier while listening to a sermon. The preacher had said “A ship is safe in a harbour, but ships aren’t built for harbours”. I admitted that I was in a safe harbour at Carine but maybe God was saying it was time to sail off to a new place and a new challenge.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I was offered an interview and duly headed down south a couple of days later. Old friends Laurie and Sonia Haynes and Noel and Steph Kara were living in Busselton by then so I had somewhere to stay the night before meeting the District Council. The interview went very well and the next day they rang to offer me the job. After all the time, thought and prayer we had invested and all the green lights we’d received I was sure it was the right move, with one stipulation. They wanted me to start straight away but I said I needed a term to tie up loose ends, finish my time at Carine and prepare for the big move. They granted my request and I was duly appointed as chaplain at Busselton SHS, to commence in Term 2 2004.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">There was a lot to do! After some intense tidying and sprucing we put the house on the market. Zachariah had just started Year 12 at Carine and we were loath to disrupt his final year so I set about finding a family at Carine he could board with. We needed plenty of time to deal with all the usual preparing and packing that goes with a move, bearing in mind that we still had four kids at home, with Paulie the youngest just starting primary school.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">After many previous moves which we had always done ourselves, this time we did the smart thing and hired a removal company! (Not so smart when they turned up without our bed the day we moved in!!) <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I was blessed with a great goodbye from Carine and many expressions of thanks and appreciation for my work at the school. They held a farewell evening attended by many past and current students and staff members. It reinforced how special my time at Carine had been and how much I was going to miss the people, many of whom had become friends and mates as well as colleagues. Even now, nearly 20 years later I’m still in touch with several Carine friends and on rare visits back there I am always warmly welcomed. The Principal during most of my time there, Cesare DiGuilio enthusiastically supported me as a referee when I started applying for teacher positions in 2019.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">In late April 2004 Zach was settled in with his host family and Carolyn, Sophie, Jordan, Paul and I set off for our new life down south.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We rented a house in Harvest Road for the first several months while we looked at houses for sale. We considered building on a block of land we had put a deposit on but the estate rules wouldn’t let us build with the design and materials we wanted so we kept looking and eventually found a fantastic house in College Ave, less than a kilometre from the school. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">It was perfect.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><img alt="Home - Busselton Senior High School" class="n3VNCb" data-noaft="1" jsaction="load:XAeZkd;" jsname="HiaYvf" src="https://www.busseltonshs.wa.edu.au/wp-content/themes/busselton/images/logo.png" style="height: 90px; margin: 47.85px 0px; width: 490px;" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">On my first day at the school I had an appointment with Raelene, the Principal and she gave me copies of a couple of previous Yearbooks so I could get a feel for the school. I opened one up to a page with an article by one of the Deputy Principals. At the top of the page she quoted: “A ship is safe in a harbour, but ships aren’t built for harbours”. I knew then that our move by faith was right and God had put his final stamp on our decision.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><o:p><img alt="Our School - Busselton Senior High School" class="n3VNCb" data-noaft="1" jsaction="load:XAeZkd;" jsname="HiaYvf" src="https://www.busseltonshs.wa.edu.au/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/SchoolFront1700.jpg" style="height: 282.188px; margin: 0px; width: 602px;" /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">When I started at Busselton High the chaplain’s office was in the old caretaker’s house at the far end of the school and not very accessible. Despite this I had a steady stream of visits from kids wanting to talk about stuff and I felt part of the school from the outset. Visibility and connection increased significantly when the new student services suite was completed and I moved into my new office in the admin wing. As I had at Carine, I recreated the décor, a mix of pictures, planes and ephemera all over the walls and ceiling, and I looked for things I could get involved in, and any areas I could introduce new programs. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I quickly made contact with two local church youthworkers, Stu Robinson and Rod Muir and we ran the Big Breakfast once a week, providing BBQ’d snags, toast and fruit for kids arriving at school. This evolved into Synoptic Youth, a partnership that saw us running a weekly lunchtime program called Phat Phriday. Crazy games and competitions were the order of the day, with the most memorable being “Frozen Chicken Ten Pin Bowling” on a strip of black plastic lubricated with water and detergent. The kids loved it but I got complaints about wasting food from an unnamed teacher. The next time we did it I took the chicken home, cleaned it up, cooked it and ate it! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">There were some great people on staff at Busso and I quickly aligned myself with David Gault -Gaultie- in Phys Ed and later Student Services coordinator, John Duthie head of PE and Nick Fucile in the Maths dept. I took on coaching the junior footy team in the Channel 7 Cup. In 2005 I entered Busselton in the Chaplains Cup, a competition I had started at Carine for Yr 10 kids because they were too old for the Channel 7 Cup and too young for the Smarter than Smoking Cup. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">It was while coaching Busso that I met Brendan Fitzgerald- Fitzy, a curly-headed bright-eyed kid playing in the back pocket. We went up to Perth for the comp, with the final being played under lights, and stayed the night in Perth. It was the week before the AFL Grand Final between Sydney and the Eagles and while we were having breakfast at McDonalds I heard on the radio that there had been extra GF tickets made available for West Coast members. I was already booked to fly to Melbourne to attend a week-long training course for a program called Rock and Water in the first week of the September holidays so I called a mate who was an Eagles member and using his barcode, spent half an hour on the phone and managed to get a Grand Final ticket. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The game was a classic (albeit low-scoring) contest, one of several between Sydney and West Coast in that era. It came down to a heroic mark by Leo Barry in the final seconds to stop West Coast kicking the winning goal and Sydney held on to win by a point. Being an avowed West Coast hater I was ecstatic when Sydney broke their 72 year premiership drought, even though two weeks earlier Nick Davis and the Swans had broken my heart by snatching an incredible come from behind victory over Geelong in the dying seconds of the semi-final. To this day my mates know that the name Nick Davis raises my hackles!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The Rock and Water course was great, some of the best professional development I’ve ever experienced. On the Sunday morning I had a kick of the footy with a few mates at a local park. When we got home for lunch the news was breaking of the second Bali Bombing.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I was stunned to see a familiar face on the news broadcast: Brendan Fitzgerald was one of the Australians killed in the terrorist attack, his sister was badly injured and his Dad was left a paraplegic. I felt numb. Just a week before I’d taken him and the footy team to Perth and now he was dead! About an hour later I received a phone call from a parent at the school asking if I could come and support the kids who were shocked and grieving. I explained I was still in Melbourne. He told me there had been a hasty plan made to get the boys from the school and the footy club together the next night to try and manage their grief, and anger. I said I would try and be there. I was not due to fly home until midweek but I rang Qantas at Tullamarine and explained the circumstances and asked if I could get an emergency change of flights on compassionate grounds. They were understanding and supportive and booked me on a flight for the next day. I arrived in Perth, picked up my car and immediately headed back down to Busselton in a race against time to make it to the gathering. I got there about 20 minutes after the start time and walked in to find a room packed with teenagers and parents all sharing a common sense of shock, disbelief, sadness and grief at the death of Brendan. I didn’t do much talking, I just listened and encouraged the kids to talk about their feelings and share their reactions. It was a terrible thing for them to deal with but the connection and support they felt by being together was helpful. I told them that while I understood they may feel angry, that they should not use Brendan’s death as an excuse to express hatred or racism or to take it out on others, that Fitzy would not have wanted acts of violence or hate committed in his name. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">When school went back there was a deep sense of grief, compounded by the fact that a teacher from Busselton had been killed in the first Bali bombing and another teacher badly burnt. Lightning had struck the school twice.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">As part of the Student Services team I suggested we hold a memorial service for Brendan. The task fell to me to organise the event, to be held later in the week. I got his closest mates together and worked with them so that it truly reflected him. When I asked who his favourite teacher was they said Mr Pates. I knew he was the right person to speak at the service but he was away on an outdoor ed camp at Margaret River and unable to be contacted. I drove down to the campsite and asked him if he’d speak about Fitzy at the memorial. He didn’t want to do it but I persisted because I knew he was Brendan’s favourite teacher, he knew him best and he was the right man for the job. In the end he reluctantly agreed. Two of Brendan’s mates also agreed to speak. We chose music he loved and put together a slideshow on powerpoint and lots of people contributed pictures. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> <img alt="Bali bomb victim: My happy ending" class="n3VNCb" data-noaft="1" jsaction="load:XAeZkd;" jsname="HiaYvf" src="https://s.yimg.com/ny/api/res/1.2/GbBRzDRqd70EwRjdAbg1Ig--/YXBwaWQ9aGlnaGxhbmRlcjt3PTY0MA--/https://s.yimg.com/os/en-AU/homerun/y7.newidea/1053307750f9447af71eeb8b52e2ab1f" style="height: 300px; margin: 0px; width: 419px;" /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I then got a phone call from Brendan’s Mum Lisa asking if it would be OK if she came to the memorial. I hadn’t deliberately excluded her but because it was a school-based event, to be held in the gym after school one afternoon, all of our planning and thinking was along those lines. I said of course she could come, it would be an honour to have her there. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">As expected, the gym was totally packed for the memorial and the kids handled it with great reverence and respect. The mates who spoke did a wonderful job and despite his reluctance, Graham Pates did a brilliant job. By that stage I had done a lot of funerals and memorials and knew what worked and how best to create a fitting tribute and an atmosphere where friends family and staff could express their grief freely and openly. I was really pleased with how it went but was still surprised when Lisa called me the following day and asked if I would conduct Brendan’s funeral? I humbly accepted the task, knowing that it would be a high profile event and that getting it right was extremely important to his family. Fitzy’s parents were divorced so there were some delicate negotiations regarding who wanted what. I spent a lot of time with Lisa and his sister, who was now out of hospital but had burns and perforated eardrums, talking about Brendan, their memories, their sadness, their happy times and laughter, about his character and personality, how he used to come bouncing down the stairs in his socks and slide across the floor each morning, announcing his presence in style. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I drove up to Perth to meet his Dad who was still in hospital but was determined to be at the funeral. He had taken the kids to Bali for the holiday so there was a measure of regret and feelings of guilt that he struggled with, but at the same time, he told me how happy Brendan had been, how he had tried surfing for the first time the day of the bombing and had stood up on his first attempt. They had gone out to dinner to celebrate and enjoy being on holiday as a family and then tragedy struck in the form of terrorism, evil perpetrated against innocent people, killing men, women and children and shattering the lives of those remaining. His Dad, Terry wanted Brendan to be buried rather than cremated, telling me with tears in his eyes, “He’s been burnt enough!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"> <img alt="A Beautiful Boy: The Story of How the Bali Bombings in 2005 Affected One Family: Fitzgerald, Terry: 9780646489384: Amazon.com: Books" class="n3VNCb" data-noaft="1" height="380" jsaction="load:XAeZkd;" jsname="HiaYvf" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/41n36Xs16GL.jpg" style="height: 500px; margin: 0px; width: 353px;" width="268" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">His Dad wrote a book about Brendan and the impact of the bombing on the family. Some of the eulogies and reflections I gave at the funeral are included in the book.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I called upon the same mates and Graham to speak at the funeral, along with family members. It was a massive event, drawing media attention from across Australia and I found myself in a media spokesman role, speaking on behalf of the family to protect their privacy and guard them from the spotlight as they mourned their son. The service went well but by the end I was spent, I had spent many hours and late nights in preparation, and prayer, and been heavily involved in supporting the family as well as students and staff at the school. It is a special privilege to serve families in their time of greatest need and deepest sadness, one I always approached with total commitment and seriousness, knowing that it would form final memories of a family’s loved one. After it was over I was mentally and emotionally exhausted. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I remained in contact with Lisa for several years after Brendan died and occasionally called in to see how she was going and I know from her response and the feedback of others that she appreciated my ongoing support and care.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Dealing with Fitzy’s death, happening as it did, a little over a year after starting at the school, went a long way towards establishing my role and ministry within the school. I received a lot of thanks and positive feedback and won a measure of respect amongst the staff, students and school community as a result.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><o:p> </o:p><img alt="Circle of Life Memorial | Monument Australia" class="n3VNCb" data-noaft="1" height="343" jsaction="load:XAeZkd;" jsname="HiaYvf" src="https://monumentaustralia.org.au/content/directory/thumb/Circle_of_Life_Memorial-74977-90270.jpg" style="height: 167px; margin: 18.05px 0px; width: 250px;" width="513" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">There is a plaque for Fitzy at this Peace Park memorial site on the Busselton foreshore.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I have more stories and recollections of my time at Busselton but considering how far apart each chapter of 60 in 60 is now getting written, I will post this section now and pick up the story again next time. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-91538439785511496512022-01-15T02:26:00.001+11:002022-01-15T02:41:38.709+11:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">60 in 60 #30</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Letchy</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I am reflecting on the last 60 years, and writing 60 blog posts. 30 about people and 30 about events, places, experiences and entities.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi3bSKCwX42K9OrP5JZQG2h65-Ibw_RcbRIHNnlEuNAD6vmVaRvOzRkOFYbozRHoBhgjpc0qlIwBxCbVEN9fNAuY4DyLAfzpv3DZYmyj937eDJBbTQdg7YdAzkzU92KNh-VPNbCivMoFO0yTQTLWWUMDGPe_WdMaUDf-DU2oIZZu_58bAyqKlrdAvhq=s220" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="220" data-original-width="165" height="379" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi3bSKCwX42K9OrP5JZQG2h65-Ibw_RcbRIHNnlEuNAD6vmVaRvOzRkOFYbozRHoBhgjpc0qlIwBxCbVEN9fNAuY4DyLAfzpv3DZYmyj937eDJBbTQdg7YdAzkzU92KNh-VPNbCivMoFO0yTQTLWWUMDGPe_WdMaUDf-DU2oIZZu_58bAyqKlrdAvhq=w284-h379" width="284" /></a></div><o:p> </o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I met a lot of really good people during my sixteen years in school chaplaincy and made many close friends. The one I have the greatest affection for is Letchy. He was christened Greg Letch but is universally known and loved as Letchy. He was chaplain at Morley SHS when I was at Carine and we met at one of the regular PD/training days run by Youthcare. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I don’t have distinct memories of our first meeting but I know we hit it off pretty quickly, having much in common: young families, a love of footy and sport, and a passion for working with kids. Letchy and his wife Sheryl trained as Salvo Ministers in the eastern states before he became a chaplain. They’ve lived in Ballajura for the last 30-odd years, not far away from my big brother Alan’s place, and have three sons, Ryan, Garred and Daniel, all of whom are now married.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj2Phf1zy82KZqst4ghsaLzWlRa-UiYKvdQhET4aJuaBN7v7ZnwAD79V4Qopgh9969VGX1G4YRbGDvluhKab3HPHmZGz7NYkQ0vCm4G5gFrBeCZfj8WJcnUd3uovWz1tBxaEfqO90iEvX4pz_xjliqwiSB0pKVHZpFjjkdoSWcS3R_p22dgo2eRM2FW=s1183" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="887" data-original-width="1183" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj2Phf1zy82KZqst4ghsaLzWlRa-UiYKvdQhET4aJuaBN7v7ZnwAD79V4Qopgh9969VGX1G4YRbGDvluhKab3HPHmZGz7NYkQ0vCm4G5gFrBeCZfj8WJcnUd3uovWz1tBxaEfqO90iEvX4pz_xjliqwiSB0pKVHZpFjjkdoSWcS3R_p22dgo2eRM2FW=w491-h368" width="491" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I have much clearer memories of our first adventure. We both enjoyed playing golf so I suggested we go out to The Vines Resort to watch the Heinekin Open Golf Tournament one January. He has some rellies who live at the Vines which gave the added bonus of access to the swimming pool to cool off during the heat of a Perth summer. I had taken Paulie the year before and he rode his bike around as we joined the galleries following players like Greg Norman and Ian Woosnam. He had scored a signed glove from Aussie Major winner Wayne Grady as well. I persuaded Letchy we should take our mountain bikes so we could get around the course quicker. What we hadn’t counted on was the over-officiousness of the course marshals who tried to stop us riding our bikes. Why? To avoid damage to the course! You mean the course where 30,000 people have been traipsing up and down for the last week, and the countless buggies and service vehicles, media crews etc etc? I stress, we were never riding on the fairways, only on the paths and spectator areas beyond the rough. We continued to ride, trying to avoid the marshals but when we got near the clubhouse they had called in reinforcements, a couple of on duty police officers! As we approached them they signalled for us to stop. I looked the other way and kept riding! Letchy wasn’t so quick, or rebellious, and was baled up by the constabulary! He got a talking to and was told not to ride on the course any more. I found him a little later and we went for a swim to keep out of trouble! When Sheryl heard the story later I think she thought I was a bad influence on her husband!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLIRZtfO_NO4x72tV43uStnlMGgitkS_S9DbRRQA94PmSlcPY8u31Ls1giEBhSCp9vfYXnTLlE7ykgi3TsjwBs8DTC913ElENEb8ui9uK7ATGCjORoV7vpEc4Ux2BT-47t5pjkxaAoCsvTVLjzStHVfoLltHikUbJJZk2U8PejLRgxuEKc1CFICjfU=s1140" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="887" data-original-width="1140" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLIRZtfO_NO4x72tV43uStnlMGgitkS_S9DbRRQA94PmSlcPY8u31Ls1giEBhSCp9vfYXnTLlE7ykgi3TsjwBs8DTC913ElENEb8ui9uK7ATGCjORoV7vpEc4Ux2BT-47t5pjkxaAoCsvTVLjzStHVfoLltHikUbJJZk2U8PejLRgxuEKc1CFICjfU=w527-h410" width="527" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Around this time I was pretty involved with SU (Scripture Union) as a volunteer camp leader and a number of us were invited to a meeting and challenged to come up with ideas for camps SU could run during the various school holiday periods. SU runs lots of camps: hiking, caving, abseiling, canoeing, white water rafting, wilderness camps, as well as creative and performing arts, beach festivals, MAD camp as mentioned in #29, sailing camp etc. I was stuck for a new idea until a Eureka moment occurred a week or two later. I had a flash of inspiration- Footy Camp! I would recruit a bunch of mates who shared my passion for football and we would run a camp in the July holidays for kids who loved footy! I will devote a future chapter of 60 in 60 to the legendary tales of Footy Camp but suffice to say here that Letchy was one of my first recruits, despite his sad affliction of being a West Coast Eagles supporter. He was already umpiring local junior footy which made him a logical choice as umpy for the daily battles between the Cats and the Dogs, the two teams at Footy Camp. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I directed the camp for about five years from the late 90s and it is still going strong now, some twenty years later. Stay tuned for the full Footy Camp story in the next month or two.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnc4OJazUhkLI-VwrytJtSPPDOIj2ySPwJn32vUQ2ZvEBUqA05LMKBp7L89Dz4jDpjMuz_v28aa1BShdiADQHP5_Lh0K2jId5dZxZVf7lurw-ze0Hdm9XTqpOZ0TjbOvSthMwyr9EFwZuB6db6dMioa3Q3lmupdnUedhb3njeiRvOLNRqeeH5ZVptY=s1183" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="887" data-original-width="1183" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnc4OJazUhkLI-VwrytJtSPPDOIj2ySPwJn32vUQ2ZvEBUqA05LMKBp7L89Dz4jDpjMuz_v28aa1BShdiADQHP5_Lh0K2jId5dZxZVf7lurw-ze0Hdm9XTqpOZ0TjbOvSthMwyr9EFwZuB6db6dMioa3Q3lmupdnUedhb3njeiRvOLNRqeeH5ZVptY=w491-h368" width="491" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Similarly, Letchy was an inaugural coach in the CFFL as mentioned in #28 and he has contributed many memorable moments in the annals of that august fantasy footy league, but alas, they will have to wait for a future chapter as well.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">In 2003 I invited Letchy and another mate, Birchy to join me for a footy weekend in Melbourne. I took Zach, and Letchy brought Garred making a party of five flying out of Perth on a Thursday night. It was round 7 of the AFL season and we went to 3-4 games over the weekend, the main attraction being the game between the Cats and the Eagles at Kardinia Park on Saturday afternoon. Geelong started on fire, with David Wojcinski and Paul Chapman kicking goals but as was often the case in those days, West Coast had Geelong’s measure and hit back. The result was a rare draw which was pretty unsatisfying for all of us. We had a kick of the footy on the ground afterwards before heading back to Melbourne for a night game at the MCG. It was great to hang out with some mates and to be able to bring our sons along as well. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I was always looking for ways to get kids from school involved in stuff, especially if it was positive, challenging or a Christian event. Letchy was of a similar mind so we combined resources one year and took a group of kids from Carine and Morley down to SaltBush, a Christian Music Festival that ran at Katanning for a few years. Our mate and fellow chaplain Sev, Tony Severin, was part of the organising team. Camping, music, food and fun made it a great event, especially with a trip to the big adventure playground in town, complete with giant slides, swings and things that went round and round or up and down. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQyQdOuS6HPg0eql-EFpxpOfieY9ntVc8aNFkIJnEu40lZh4sJTK-23xxEFO0LnvGxYfPNVSOTELy36B5WCKa8zqslhrbTMC_l8Bhj1v4sm39wQVDQMZUwpK9ZtDjj1ekfkbQRDKV6MYVmqeKB1P5p3Bag1Ptuws_hgIpHXHfKMmrIEw2nexXxPa17=s1183" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="887" data-original-width="1183" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQyQdOuS6HPg0eql-EFpxpOfieY9ntVc8aNFkIJnEu40lZh4sJTK-23xxEFO0LnvGxYfPNVSOTELy36B5WCKa8zqslhrbTMC_l8Bhj1v4sm39wQVDQMZUwpK9ZtDjj1ekfkbQRDKV6MYVmqeKB1P5p3Bag1Ptuws_hgIpHXHfKMmrIEw2nexXxPa17=w513-h385" width="513" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Doing stuff with Letchy was always great for two reasons. He is a great companion, a funny, lovable character, always up for an adventure and a laugh, but he is also a godly man with a heart full of compassion, love and wisdom. Many many times our conversations would turn to deeper subjects, how we were travelling in our marriages and relationships, our walk with God and our work and ministry with young people. Countless times Letchy has given me insights and reflections that speak deeply to my situation, especially in the difficult times when I battled mental health problems and depression. He is one of those people who has spiritual understanding but has his feet firmly planted on the ground. He was not afraid to challenge me about things or to gently point out where I was going wrong but always in an attitude of love and mateship.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I write this in the past tense only because having lived on opposite sides of the country for the last ten years we rarely get the chance to hang out together these days. I miss those times a lot.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I know Letchy will agree 100% when I say that the best times we’ve had together were when we hiked sections of the Bibbulmun Track which stretches over a thousand kilometres from the Perth hills all the way to Albany in the deep south-west of WA. While some people are able to set aside the 40-odd days it takes to walk the whole track in one go, we set out with the aim of hiking end to end in stages, for 2-3 days at a time. We started at Kalamunda and set off on the first stage carrying heavy packs, food and water, sleeping bags and cooking equipment, enough for three days. There are hiker’s huts at regular intervals all the way along the track and most people hike one or two sections per day, roughly 20 kilometres. The huts have three walls, tables and benches, drop dunnys, firepits and water tanks. Sometimes we shared quarters with other hikers, sometimes we were the only ones there for the night. It was pretty hard going to start with until we got used to the weight and how best to manage our equipment and provisions, especially in the hillier sections. We walked at a steady pace and talked a lot. Not constantly, there were plenty of stretches where we walked in silence and soaked in the beauty and peace of the Australian bush, but we also talked and listened and shared our stories, thoughts, feelings and opinions. We had a good understanding of how each other were going and knew when it was time to stop for a rest, a drink, or for lunch. One of the greatest luxuries in life is eating a simple meal of Cup-a-Soup, crackers with tuna and cheese and a bite-sized chocolate bar while sitting in a shady spot in the bush with one of your best mates. We loved it and felt like we were eating like kings on those days. It amuses me no end to recount that one day while at work I decided to replicate that sort of meal for lunch and discovered it was nowhere near as satisfying when eaten sitting in my office as it was on a fallen tree in the bush with Letchy!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We did four hikes over a couple of years and from memory made it as far as Dwellingup on the last one before circumstances changed and put a stop to our hikes. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We moved to Victoria in 2011. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We didn’t give up on our goal. I was all set to go to Perth and hike a further section when I had a mishap, slipping over while cleaning vomit out of a bus!! I badly wrenched my knee and had to make a painful call to Letchy to say I wouldn’t be able to go hiking with him on that trip! We were both deeply disappointed. I did get back to WA and hike another section with Letchy about a year later.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">A few traditions developed on our evenings on the Bibbulmun. Letchy would spend hours tending to his feet, treating and patching hot spots and blisters with creams and bandages, all the while complaining about his boots and lamenting that the latest incarnation of footwear he was wearing were no better than the previous pair of boots. While I felt sorry for him and the pain and discomfort he suffered, it always amused me that my feet never gave me any trouble even if I was wearing a cheap pair of op shop sneakers!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">While he was being foot doctor, I would read aloud entries in the log books that were kept at each hiker’s hut and then write up our story of the day. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgeEV4WqCGgu0vrdLBgkdg4_it2-DQ7YXLG1tceU4sdhvPRTGy9A1LQjNdEWq5x0ZyYPSTCpJkon-3l5CZTxWCdjaVzq_ZLFFfmXe7_rEAG6D4JM-sUtd1-LPHyjwIMXujxuh_fJxvi-Ayf9gzHZ21jaIjX30HnqNliRuayK8Fq98gkaddZytaywvom=s887" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="887" data-original-width="665" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgeEV4WqCGgu0vrdLBgkdg4_it2-DQ7YXLG1tceU4sdhvPRTGy9A1LQjNdEWq5x0ZyYPSTCpJkon-3l5CZTxWCdjaVzq_ZLFFfmXe7_rEAG6D4JM-sUtd1-LPHyjwIMXujxuh_fJxvi-Ayf9gzHZ21jaIjX30HnqNliRuayK8Fq98gkaddZytaywvom=s320" width="240" /></a></o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcMC-1kkUkMnSQ1vDTby5ZEGAhedEgi6-0wyxz9D3eKHBOiVBJM2uCrwcSxhRuCp5ktE14J4c7bG5BeXiAWu5zS3muQV24-DpzhmY23YH4FhR_ax2TS7cqXK81mVpL0Bn8p3951WbK4MLjVYZ8QNi23JmOTjSH-degXZTLhaEGo8FWQfcE1om0gTFg=s1183" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="887" data-original-width="1183" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcMC-1kkUkMnSQ1vDTby5ZEGAhedEgi6-0wyxz9D3eKHBOiVBJM2uCrwcSxhRuCp5ktE14J4c7bG5BeXiAWu5zS3muQV24-DpzhmY23YH4FhR_ax2TS7cqXK81mVpL0Bn8p3951WbK4MLjVYZ8QNi23JmOTjSH-degXZTLhaEGo8FWQfcE1om0gTFg=s320" width="320" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6GmEzmzMytPXUcldzJHKzQapWpbe2mh8mbf1POOu_QEnoGTfHlNezB3xUR02i98ste9ZK_4n9LadUF5pCnskhS9IP6Xxp35B0oSnBo3BOAeDJEQsYg9FL9-uPZTVPLwHyX5AVMgGdBIGq81Rwabbq4y926TDrbl7PS-5_MRjMwLVWcWITlWoE-NOO=s1183" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="887" data-original-width="1183" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6GmEzmzMytPXUcldzJHKzQapWpbe2mh8mbf1POOu_QEnoGTfHlNezB3xUR02i98ste9ZK_4n9LadUF5pCnskhS9IP6Xxp35B0oSnBo3BOAeDJEQsYg9FL9-uPZTVPLwHyX5AVMgGdBIGq81Rwabbq4y926TDrbl7PS-5_MRjMwLVWcWITlWoE-NOO=w491-h368" width="491" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Our Bibbulmun adventures carry some painful memories as well. On the trip we had to abort due to my injury we had planned to take Ryan and a young Afghan boy called Huss that Greg and Sheryl had fostered for a number of years. He was a refugee from that troubled country and the Letches had welcomed him into their home and their hearts, treating him like a son. Letchy still wanted the boys to have the Bibbulmun experience so a few weeks later he went with them on his own and they hiked a section of the track. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Less than a year later tragedy struck and Huss took his own life. It was a devastating and heart-breaking time and I vividly remember crying with them on the phone when I heard the news. Any death is sad but the death of a young person carries a level of sadness that is hard to fathom or describe, and when you add the extra dimension of suicide, the pain and anguish defies description entirely. My heart ached for my mate and his wife and family but my pain was a mere shadow of the hurt they experienced.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">There was nothing I could do except be there, on the other end of the phone, and to offer my love, care and sympathy. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I did have an opportunity several months later to do something concrete and symbolic to support my mate. Letchy and I returned to the Bibbulmun and hiked the same section he had walked with the boys, retracing their steps and reliving the memories that were now so precious to Letchy. I read their journal entries in the log books and then added my own thoughts and reflections in tribute to Huss and to my great mate. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I’m not sure when it will happen but I trust we will get back out on the Bibbulmun again.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-9SJlVZBD6-wmElrTL_iF_YV07m85tLIX5kIbMDVnYZsGAHJSkFQqaQ5CQ2rHWGxD1mHjgSG0Kes9FPA-HPO9o_W91PGvDNlEPRS2xYsc149feH2vwVYT0OIbetESxa9muIzVXy6z67oinElmHlYBfGcxj7oG-2ohUhB8hC9rnTQ_eVK8q9QUpPes=s800" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="585" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-9SJlVZBD6-wmElrTL_iF_YV07m85tLIX5kIbMDVnYZsGAHJSkFQqaQ5CQ2rHWGxD1mHjgSG0Kes9FPA-HPO9o_W91PGvDNlEPRS2xYsc149feH2vwVYT0OIbetESxa9muIzVXy6z67oinElmHlYBfGcxj7oG-2ohUhB8hC9rnTQ_eVK8q9QUpPes=w439-h585" width="439" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">After Letchy left chaplaincy he started working as a bus driver in Perth. Years later when we moved back to Victoria I also started working as a bus driver and we shared stories of strange customers, difficult drivers, common problems and mishaps on the road. I think he told me he’d broken eight mirrors one year! He still drives a Party Bus on weekends.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjvwLa0-0urMLaGOe-y7AZ6XiQ5RdPdQ7TTftBF2vZGnUSM5RM42Vie9QX389uVXDvLZKVVeB_4nMPZi0sEfDAmRyWDN5YIheLcrILG7Of-ECX647CE5ID3YKMkp6Sqqr8_0jMVVATm5ANaqOtpVq-miIz6iNYxpGI0OPqTL3CGJn7VTTztEfR08NUB=s1267" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="950" data-original-width="1267" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjvwLa0-0urMLaGOe-y7AZ6XiQ5RdPdQ7TTftBF2vZGnUSM5RM42Vie9QX389uVXDvLZKVVeB_4nMPZi0sEfDAmRyWDN5YIheLcrILG7Of-ECX647CE5ID3YKMkp6Sqqr8_0jMVVATm5ANaqOtpVq-miIz6iNYxpGI0OPqTL3CGJn7VTTztEfR08NUB=w533-h400" width="533" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">After I finished directing RYLA seminars we looked for something we could do as a family instead of me doing stuff with other people and Carolyn being left with the kids on her own. The thing we found was SU’s Augusta Beach Mission, an annual event at Turner Caravan Park in Augusta, the most south-westerly town in Australia. For the following twelve years we were part of the team of Christian families and volunteers who ran programs for children, teenagers, adults and families who were camping at Augusta in the first two weeks of January. I was part of the teenage team the first year while Carolyn worked with the pre-schoolers. Our kids joined in all the programs. I graduated to leader of the teen program for a few years before eventually becoming the Mission Director. We loved spending the first couple of weeks of the year in an outreach ministry in a beautiful part of the world, with people we loved. There were lots of changes along the way and our team grew in the process. In the last 3-4 years we were involved there were about 80 people on the team when you counted all the kids, teenagers and young people. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjudtScQck-5QxlvX9XrgvHH4lDst8ikrMyVH1il953L-QpC5uA1q6mxUPStEyfsiw4_zmAcPPrZiihF6XVYmWg0xoMhu_jJnJleWkvXNZyFsMnN6E1jTDvzruJpPHTycuPniF8UeofSa1yBQHhCj33AzsP7Zv9C5-kVz-WOfRBW_pIFfsYuLZl22y=s1286" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="887" data-original-width="1286" height="367" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjudtScQck-5QxlvX9XrgvHH4lDst8ikrMyVH1il953L-QpC5uA1q6mxUPStEyfsiw4_zmAcPPrZiihF6XVYmWg0xoMhu_jJnJleWkvXNZyFsMnN6E1jTDvzruJpPHTycuPniF8UeofSa1yBQHhCj33AzsP7Zv9C5-kVz-WOfRBW_pIFfsYuLZl22y=w532-h367" width="532" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I invited Letchy and his family and Birchy and his clan to join the team and for several years the Holts, Letches and Birches enjoyed camping together at Augusta as part of the SU team. The program name changed from a beach mission to a family festival and we got better and better at running great programs that included, music, drama, games, movie nights, quiz nights, Q&A forums, kids clubs, teenage adventure activities and concerts. As the festival grew in size and scope we needed to develop a new leadership model. We decided on a leadership team that divided roles up according to people’s skills. Rolf became the administrator, taking care of all the organisation and paperwork, Paul and Michael organised all the drama and children’s programs and Letchy became the logistics officer, arranging, collecting and managing all the equipment including marquees, tents and the bus. My role became team leader/MC. We had a kitchen team led by experienced cooks who provided amazing food for 80 people three times a day. I even recruited Mum and Walter onto the team and Mum was wonderful running craft activities each morning with the mums and ladies. There were some truly gifted and amazing people on the team and a huge amount of work went into preparing and training the team each year before we got to Augusta. (I will probably devote a chapter to SU and our time at Augusta, there are so many people and events that form such special memories for us.) <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Letchy was brilliant at his job and Sheryl was equally as good in working with the little kids. I have great memories and images of Sheryl and Carolyn working together at Augusta and our friendship as families grew even stronger through being part of the festival team. Garred and Daniel in particular grew into leadership roles within the team as well.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Before Covid I usually managed to get back to WA about once a year to visit family and friends. I always stay at least one night at Letchy’s, the “Ballajura Motor Inn”. I always feel welcome and comfortable there and love catching up with such close friends. Letchy is the essence of a genuinely good bloke. He’s warm, friendly, funny and caring. He gives me big hugs and always makes me feel special, loved and cared for. We laugh together, and we cry together. We celebrate and commiserate. We muck around and we get serious. He’s one of the very best people I know.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Love ya Letchy!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj_6QRBYwNKv9DHGhSGw2iuAVoEFAnIIsSzNW-YMG2m4SB2u6tg7y-rOGJeZAJfLIHkRjz4UqGDAaIVuUUhDW-qW5aqKHHfb_iafJVw0opwlFqJ9ourDadSEPvoQvNeFkPaD4kynBCEt6299IfKAMkY6kg4ML-0p5nJwLu9tfKzhVtWnC0_R_ozsdCr=s887" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="887" data-original-width="665" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj_6QRBYwNKv9DHGhSGw2iuAVoEFAnIIsSzNW-YMG2m4SB2u6tg7y-rOGJeZAJfLIHkRjz4UqGDAaIVuUUhDW-qW5aqKHHfb_iafJVw0opwlFqJ9ourDadSEPvoQvNeFkPaD4kynBCEt6299IfKAMkY6kg4ML-0p5nJwLu9tfKzhVtWnC0_R_ozsdCr=s320" width="240" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-33565253638183008582021-12-29T16:41:00.004+11:002021-12-29T17:55:48.805+11:00 60 in 60 #29 Phil<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">60 in 60 #29</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Phil </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I am reflecting on the last 60 years, and writing 60 blog posts. 30 about people and 30 about events, places, experiences and entities.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><img aria-label="Photo – Portrait – 19 Jul 2021, 18:23:10" class="BiCYpc" data-atf="false" data-iml="148301.00000000003" height="820" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7gat7FqqSNHmI3t7KDWf1nZIfnFDcKaVKu-aSkioGP2JV0G7uNqAV9TJ2SoecwCtDW0TCzsalGsZAP9rjOcZDEaBrV-3vm1_8BIlxly-Bi-0Mr2GXQ1rgiFoYnm6Q-dPXqvpQYIrrXY/w550-h820-no/?authuser=0" style="transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="550" /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">When I was directing RYLA and RYPEN (#27 of 60 in 60) I met a lot of people and made many friends. One who became a good mate was Phil Sparrow. He came to RYLA as a participant and made an immediate impression, he was confident and articulate and showed obvious leadership capabilities from the very first day. I directed six RYLA seminars in succession so the events and memories have tended to become mixed up in my mind, especially as it was in the early 90s. I don’t remember which year Phil came to RYLA but I sensed it would not be the last and when I was recruiting team members for the following year I invited him to join the team. It was the beginning of a connection and partnership that has spanned many events and places over the last 30 years.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><img aria-label="Photo – Landscape – 19 Jul 2021, 18:23:10" class="BiCYpc" data-atf="false" data-iml="361469" height="536" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHtBChUSw82OyuBPSgLDSGsQvemwvdphAH5VTi16mwe2tEfxf1xsO9hWbZe5hZRJ1TPw3Xp9pECqU1AZTwDnEgvH7KPvH12sJwkYyxF5cEEeQ13yYwrNjtp12ktarpP1K-mJar25yKws4/w674-h536/?authuser=0" style="transform: translate3d(-0.5px, -0.5px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="674" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> RYLA crew upon return from Margaret River. </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Phil had outdoor skills which made him an asset when we took the RYLA crews to camp at Margaret River and go abseiling and caving at places like WI16, Brides Cave and the Willyabrup sea cliffs. He also had a strong interest in social justice issues and geopolitical ideas. We had run the One World Dinner each year and it was Phil who suggested another activity, “The Money Game” (#25) that we could try. The first iteration didn’t have the same impact as the OWD but I loved the idea and over the next ten years I used it at both RYPEN and the Year 10 Leadership Camp, developing and refining it to the point where it was a highlight of the program and left an enduring impact on the participants. When I first met him Phil was exploring questions of faith and belief. He was going out with a girl I knew through youthwork circles, Franca, and I remember him mailing a coconut back to her from somewhere overseas, with the address written directly on the husk. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Phil joined my team for RYPEN as well and I have vivid memories of us running around the Araluen campsite playing “Capture the Watermelon” a more challenging variation of the popular wide game, “Capture the Flag”. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Around this time I was working as the Coordinator of the Chip-Inn drop in centre at Warwick Church of Christ, a long-standing youth project. Chip Inn was started by a bloke called Jeff Pope and used the latest in whiz-bang computers at the time, Commodore 64s, to attract local kids on a Thursday night. I had heard of Chip Inn when I was working at the Rockingham Youth Centre in the late 80s and met Jeff at a youthwork conference. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Carolyn and I spent eight months in the eastern states in 1988. We went to the National Gathering in Canberra, World Expo and The Pavilion of Promise in Brisbane and then six months at Kilmany Park in Sale doing a diploma in youth and community work with Fusion before returning to Perth. I started a twelve month placement with Fusion Perth doing school seminars, day trips and youth outreach. Around this time I was invited to apply for the position at Chip Inn by the senior minister Geoff Carslake. Initially it was just one day a week but the role grew over the next few years and I worked closely with the ministry team: Bruce Eagles, Lyn Devlin and youth minister Rob Mason.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Chip Inn was mostly staffed by volunteers and each Thursday night we would set up the ageing 64s and open the doors to local teenagers. I asked Phil to join the team and before long he was so effective that I was able to get him on the payroll and he became my 2ic, co-worker and partner-in-crime. We developed a great partnership and I loved working with him at Chip Inn. As the computers became more antiquated and unserviceable the focus of Chip Inn switched from them to other activities. Many of the kids preferred to hang around outside and the team concentrated more on relationship-building and making connections. At its peak Chip Inn attracted over 100 kids a night. It needs to be said that there were other reasons they came. The nearby bush that separated the church from the Warwick Grove shopping centre provided perfect cover for them to go and smoke dope and bucket bongs. We didn’t condone this but nor did we condemn it. We were there to offer friendship, support and a safe place and to demonstrate our faith through love in action. The fact that so many kids came so regularly was proof that we were doing something right and we gradually expanded the range of activities to offer alternatives to our clientele.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><img aria-label="Photo – Landscape – 19 Jul 2021, 18:23:06" class="BiCYpc" data-atf="false" data-iml="643239" height="461" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiyNypijPiop_Ox_Y8WnSjH6XqGPrcOrFTrVqZK_Q6xwi2fzdxlol21JW0nhnOnncf-NuwVu3onpR4JEUruliMRYBt9JvBaU_jxO-hwzpdTlBKZCHm5PqtiwdndXzR7PH9LI278RIpUpM/w666-h461/?authuser=0" style="transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="666" /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p>The kids at Chip Inn sitting on my old Holden. A kid asked me one night why I let them sit on it, I relied, "Because people are more important than cars".</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We ran a basic canteen each week selling soft drink and chocolate bars, which gave us a good way to meet new kids, ask their names and get to know them a little bit. Around this time I had established a relationship with the local bakers, John and Rose Knight, and several afternoons a week I would go and collect their leftover bread, cakes, rolls and donuts and then distribute it to a range of charities and people. I always had boxes of bread and goodies in the car and was known by reputation as the guy with all the bread! We saved the jam and cream donuts, cakes and goodies for the Chip Inn canteen and the kids were so eager to get their hands on them that Phil and I created “The Corridor of Death” as a right of passage in order to score a prized donut or cake. We would take up position in the narrow corridor between the auditorium and the back door. Any kid wanting a donut had to run the gamut of the Corridor of Death. That simply meant they had to get past us. It was a brutal physical game and Phil I spared no effort and took no prisoners as we blocked, bashed, bounced and rebuffed waves of clamouring teens trying to get to the holy grail of sweet treats! Many a kid got squashed between us and the brick walls. As the Corridor of Death grew in intensity we started wearing skate helmets and elbow pads for protection/effective combat! It was hot sweaty and hilarious, the kids loved it and came back for more each week. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Another game that was a big hit was Bush Hockey. Two teams wielding rolled up newspapers bound with masking tape chased and belted a soft bouncy rubber ball up and down the auditorium scoring goals against tables turned on their sides. The regular church members would have been stunned to see their place of worship turned into a sporting battlefield for 20-30 boisterous teenagers each Thursday night.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We started running outings and camps to places like Nanga and Margaret River. Many of the kids had never been camping, let alone caving and abseiling so they jumped at the chance to try some adventure activities. We would camp at Contos Field, swim at Contos beach and wash in the fresh water spring that runs out of the rocks at the bottom of the hill. I taught them an old schoolyard game, “Rule the World” on the beach and they played it for hours. At night time we’d cook camp food and sit around the campfire telling stories or sharing our faith, go looking for possums or play “Capture the Flag” across the wide expanse of Contos Field. Exploring Giants Cave, swinging across the sunken floor of Brides Cave and doing run downs at Willyabrup were fantastic and memorable experiences for the kids. On a camp at Nanga we spent hours swimming in the river and wrestling kids in rubber tyre tubes. It was on that camp that the cheeky Michael Bregman nicknamed me “Burgertron”!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><img aria-label="Photo – Landscape – 19 Jul 2021, 18:23:04" class="BiCYpc" data-atf="false" data-iml="710207" height="310" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWkOwew8D2ohK2hwQeJVrzRFHuHRs1dTECVthEx1L3KYDtrrQ_CeYVHnU15Z4WJut3tyvsH0aLufwVWn7wgJ2GQSsuuriIHGglbCpnR6qqpC5EApYD0NviQOZacX0AC8Uc4NyqxICQr8/w658-h310/?authuser=0" style="transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="658" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The debrief at the end of the night at Chip Inn. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><img aria-label="Photo – Landscape – 19 Jul 2021, 18:23:06" class="BiCYpc" data-atf="false" data-iml="548518" height="429" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Zf1xmh5PqL0v2Ak7CoOwov8Kbd3TAIrBN3SXgmQTT2TIGKEQLQu-lD7E8zqslATXINKr7ZBRlGsxG0LmUvA8augW6DVHxpUlB8cQR4S7m_OKHB_rk7q0IQFYxKlSMK3YR8Wet8850Do/w660-h429/?authuser=0" style="transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="660" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> Willyabrup Sea Cliff</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We had a Coaster Bus, painted in the colours of the Aboriginal flag, which made all of these trips and camps possible. Before Phil joined the team I had taken a group of eleven kids and three leaders on a trip across the country in it to the Blackstump Christian Music and Arts Festival at Cataract Park, about an hour outside of Sydney. I had been to Blackstump the year before while we were still at Sale, making some money selling screen printed T-shirts under my label, “Printz of Peace”. It was a fantastic three day event and I was keen to take a group of West Aussie kids from Chip Inn. It was an “eventful” trip to put it mildly! The roof rack struts, straining under the weight of all the gear, started popping off with a bang as we climbed Greenmount hill just out of Perth! Plan B was called for and a covered trailer from YWAM was delivered so we could set off again. Six flat tyres! Yes, 6! Three on the bus and three on the trailer. We quickly ran out of spares and had to wait while getting them repaired, one on a dirt road “shortcut” out of Port Augusta. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><img aria-label="Photo – Landscape – 19 Jul 2021, 18:22:50" class="BiCYpc" data-atf="false" data-iml="879741" height="506" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJowF66M17iPrUkSSfABpRbtTMCzlLKA-ZvAGlobkFyrDTz3VV_MytI8bvy1K7PJlAepJVeK7a5pE9t37qE8y0-IwXyZSYUjYEMEB2weo7wRA5jvTWGMfc-pOJZ36EzUxZZiT6uGEm1YY/w651-h506/?authuser=0" style="transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="651" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The Blackstump Trip, 1989</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><img aria-label="Photo – Landscape – 19 Jul 2021, 18:22:50" class="BiCYpc" data-atf="false" data-iml="816140" height="420" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgute2b_Yh9RF_A0IQsnCmecyhhHDOaw6hud3ruEUNKyoyTlriOXws-TPjELBh21IOh4FyltW8Rob7G4qfR2aI88MqqqpBqS40bDAnGONwTxFp7CXemttNGCc-OauyDhA0548NImbx4628/w652-h420/?authuser=0" style="transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="652" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Perth kids in the big city</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We limped into Blackstump after three and a half days on the road , the last leg of the journey punctuated by intermittent broadcasts of the 1989 Grand Final as the radio signal dropped in and out every time we descended or climbed a hill. The kids became celebrities at Blackstump when it was discovered they had come “All the way from Perth”. Jeff, who was now living and working in Sydney, revisited his Chip Inn roots and generously offered to have us stay at their place for a couple of days in Sydney before we headed back west across the Nullarbor. The only other driver was a team member, Terry so driving stints were interspersed with “sleep” on the floor behind the driver’s seat. It was a tough trip for all sorts of reasons, which of course made it all the more memorable.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><img aria-label="Photo – Landscape – 19 Jul 2021, 18:23:06" class="BiCYpc" data-atf="false" data-iml="590321" height="437" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUE096p6ztgf5VdSno-R6r4iMN3p_tzRyuN7uZ5A9KgXVGndYD-mv8tl3CQMh8LW2vvpFtMx-7nwNcuOD_9dE25oqgoTVvPS70DY6NIVArsfHHqLdbiSTPezKv6zet0NnMik4FZ_luNGE/w675-h437/?authuser=0" style="transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="675" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> Some of the early Chip Inn team and kids</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Another Chip Inn excursion involved dragging the kids up very early on a Saturday morning and driving up to Toodyay to watch the start of the Avon Descent. The powerboats and kayaks shooting the rapids at Extracts Weir were spectacular but not as crazy and engrossing as the hour-long mud fight we had with the kids up and down the river bank!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">In 1992 I was selected to attend an international youth leadership conference in Montreal and in my absence Phil took over managing the drop in centre for the six weeks I was away. I knew it was in safe hands while I spent a week in London, a week at the conference in Canada and a month in the States, culminating at a Calvary Chapel conference in Costa Mesa California with Skip Joannes and Mike Klenner. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p><img aria-label="Photo – Landscape – 19 Jul 2021, 18:23:10" class="BiCYpc" data-atf="false" data-iml="414115" height="414" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr81zHsidieOnSYVPigWeV4pvd7jBigFWrJEeLFU_4l4_btCkSxlPOz_V7hmjmj6Pj3xt9A6hBJJXEnBYloq922sU_N_4MAReWXajpGyIf9VKYPy0fi6aLvNa4HiXyB1Nmu_YYga4cebE/w610-h414/?authuser=0" style="transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="610" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Atop Observation City</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">By the time I left Chip Inn to work as chaplain at Carine, Phil had moved on to a youth project based in Scarborough. He was able to arrange access to Observation City and permission for me to take a group of teachers abseiling off the roof. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">While at UWA working towards his Masters degree he met a girl called Julie and not too long after they got engaged.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I was honoured when Phil asked me to be one of his groomsmen although a misread on my part almost scuttled my place in the wedding party! Phil asked me to organise a buck’s night for him and, never having been to one, I relied on the stories and legends of buck’s nights for guidance. Given our faith and values it was never going to degenerate into booze and strippers so we opted for some thrills bridge swinging and a BBQ. So far so good. It seemed however that some sort of prank was a necessary part of the right of passage so a few of us grabbed Phil at the end of the night, held him down and I shaved a cross in his chest hair. I feel embarrassed writing about it because it backfired badly. Phil was horrified, to the extent that he seriously considered excluding me from the wedding party! His idea of a buck’s night was something very different to mine and he was not happy at all. I am grateful for two things, one, that he forgave me enough not to boot me as groomsman, and two, that it is the only time we’ve had a serious falling-out. The wedding was a lovely occasion, held at the Stoneville Children’s home where Julie worked.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">A few years later when Phil and Julie chose to re-declare their marriage vows they asked me to conduct the “service” on the banks of the Swan River in Nedlands.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p><img aria-label="Photo – Landscape – 19 Jul 2021, 18:23:10" class="BiCYpc" data-atf="false" data-iml="178072" height="431" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8raW6zglCxllG2T06EjjASF3uBWyGzQYMylCL61n4NKgIBalCVg2yWAwpGpll6g9DTmtrUMMUUdIgUzWUwQyvJbd5_2UgdM56C_V25LmsbHTQ_ZdQp4RMhvZhMTMbk-bIlM9Q20uEVk/w686-h431/?authuser=0" style="transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="686" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Phil and Julie's wedding, easy to see who the cool one is.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We were both very involved with Scripture Union-SU- as camp leaders and directors around this time. We were part of the leadership team for the newly created MAD Camp (Make A Difference Camp) aimed at developing young people in their faith and discipleship. The camp was held at Eagle’s Nest retreat centre in the Avon valley and another team member was Andrew Broadbent. Broady has many talents but chief amongst them was the ability to get me into trouble, or to be present when I did so myself! There will be more to say about Broady in a future chapter but this story needs to be told here.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">MAD Camp was typical of most SU camps in that there was a lot of time spent having fun, playing games and enjoying the company of teenagers. It had an aim of teaching and encouraging young Christians in their walk with Jesus. The combination of fun and faith and the influence and role-modelling of leaders they could relate to always created a positive and powerful environment. Each night there would be music and worship followed by one of the team leading a teaching session on some aspect of Christian faith. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Broady, Phil and I are all good mates but it’s fair to say that of the three, Broady is the funny one and Phil is the serious one. On this particular night, Phil was doing the teaching and while I don’t remember the theme (for reasons that will soon become obvious) I know he had spent a lot of time and effort preparing for it and was intent on delivering it in such a way as to make an impact on the campers and challenge them in their growth.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We were all sitting around on the floor of the cosy meeting room when disaster struck, in the shape of Broady! Turning to me he asked in a whisper, “Do you smell petrol?”. Immature as it may be, I knew this was code for him having just farted! I burst out laughing and then tried to quickly stifle my laughter, knowing it was inappropriate and inopportune to be laughing while Phil was teaching. The problem was that with subtle but meaning-laden looks from Broady he kept provoking me and I soon collapsed into that helpless state of uncontrollable laughter! By now Phil was again horrified! What was I doing wrecking his presentation? I tried desperately to stop, and apologised repeatedly but if you’ve ever been in that state you know it is almost impossible to escape from and with Broady acting innocent and looking at me with mock disdain I was gone! I think I had to leave the room but by then the magic was broken and the session had been well and truly sabotaged! That would have been bad enough but in the true spirit of youthwork praxis/action-reflection, once the kids had all gone to bed came the “debrief”, a one-to-one dissection of the night’s events in which Phil took me to town and expressed in no uncertain manner how disappointed and unhappy he was with my actions. I tried to explain but he wasn’t having any of my pitiful excuses that “Broady had farted” and just kept hammering me for the way I had ruined the session and the harm I had done to the cause of the gospel. It went on for a long time and I had no leg to stand on, I was guilty as charged and just had to grit my teeth and bear it. To add a final Machiavellian twist, all the while, Broady was in the bed next door pretending to be asleep to avoid any of Phil’s wrath. He delighted in telling me later he had heard the whole thing and had dared not move, in order to escape any recrimination or guilt by association! Even now, years later, Broady can reduce me to fits of guilty laughter with those four words, “Can you smell petrol?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">NB. I don’t consider this episode to have been a falling-out, more a clash of cultures and ideas!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Once I started working at Carine I knew I needed a support group of peers and like-minded people to stand with me and pray for me through the challenges of chaplaincy. I asked Phil and Broady to be part of it, along with another mate, Hugh Francis and thus The Breakfast Club was born. Some members came and went. Khristo Newall was part of it for a few years, including the memorable day when we decided to play tennis before breakfast and he wore a tennis skirt for the occasion. Another who shall not be named came for a few months before being unofficially expelled for his careless treatment of Hugh’s beloved cat Matilda. We met one Saturday morning a month for breakfast at Hugh’s, each person bringing something to share. I always had bread of course, while Phil expressed his individuality by bringing random items, not always known for their breakfast qualities. I seem to recall some quinces on one occasion. From humble beginnings The Breakfast Club became an institution that continued to meet together for over twenty years. When we moved to Busselton the meetings were less frequent but just as eagerly looked forward to and even now that I’ve been in Victoria for ten years, we still get together for Breakfast Club whenever I go back to Perth, usually at a café or restaurant where we share a meal and catch up. There was no set agenda other than to talk about how we were going in various aspects of our lives and to pray together. While it started out as a support group for me it quickly transitioned into a mutual support group where we could share openly and honestly and a great bond grew between the four of us, Hugh, Broady, Phil and I.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><img aria-label="Photo – Landscape – 19 Jul 2021, 18:23:08" class="BiCYpc" data-atf="false" data-iml="501134" height="404" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpaAfvrdjYsWyhgISYjjMP1pgZ6GS4AM1Qiy8IcfYmnXZdwKqMnOGTAdsBFdBGs3_IM_wTH9LddmtZTFOVDQdBcafViAZqiQXY0FZ0LunxFQFsqXjYSG1R0dcemWqBfWFolv4nF5kMSB8/w634-h404/?authuser=0" style="transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="634" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> An early version of The Breakfast Club</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><img aria-label="Photo – Landscape – 19 Jul 2021, 18:22:58" class="BiCYpc" data-atf="false" data-iml="767387" height="455" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp4sLPOSSE219ajD88XFA9EgdyFP_Th02ZujMmRhmP4ItITs58c-HxcbIbrjbWVewKmcuG49E8GFQ8WJYFyw2u85pretDvQnSno0Mox33RRBv6b70BcpiQjEWfU5pnT8teT2-iXuVQBd4/w644-h455/?authuser=0" style="transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="644" /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Phil, Broady, Hugh, Me</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Phil and Julie were blessed with the birth of a daughter, Pieta, but quickly discovered that she had a serious and potentially fatal heart condition soon after the birth, requiring emergency surgery in Melbourne. Thankfully the surgery was successful. I again had the privilege of conducting a child dedication service for Pieta when she was a baby. She has now grown into a lovely young woman, and is currently studying at ANU in Canberra. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Phil will need to afford me some grace in this part of the story because I can’t remember the specific timelines of the following events. He and Julie were both committed to doing community development work in other parts of the world and they set their path for Afghanistan soon after they were married. They moved to the northern city of Mazar-el-sharif, learnt Farzi, the local language, and became immersed in the Afghan culture. When the September 11 attacks occurred they had to evacuate and return to Australia, leaving behind resources, friends and unfinished work as the world’s attention was turned to fighting terrorism in that region. They have worked with TEAR, IAM and the UN in several tours of duty in Afghanistan and their two eldest children, Pieta and Elijah were raised there. On and off they spent many years working and living in difficult and dangerous conditions in that troubled country. Phil and Julie have a deep love for Afghanistan and have always hoped to be able to go back and continue their work there. Phil has been back for short-term projects over the years but no opportunities have arisen for them to return fully.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">There has been a hole and an ache in Phil’s heart for Afghanistan which may never go away and he has found it very difficult to find meaningful and fulfilling work back here in Australia over the last several years.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Phil and I have a lot in common, but just as many things that make us different. He is highly educated, an intellectual with a passion for community development and international mission. He is a deep thinker but with his feet firmly on the ground. Phil has an amazing skill-set, he’s an improviser with brilliant practical skills, a bush engineer for whom no task is too challenging or too difficult. He maintains the family property at Margaret River, is mechanically minded and intensely resourceful. Unlike me he has zero interest in football, often mocking me with tales of how well “Buzzy Franklin” played on the weekend. We share one sporting memory, the battles for “The Golden Racquet” fought out on the squash court each month or so for a few years. He surfs and has recently restarted Christian Surfers events for kids in Perth.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Phil has written two books, one about life and work in Afghanistan and the other about fatherhood in which he compiled stories, anecdotes and insights from a group of men reflecting on how they experienced being Dads. I was rapt to be able to contribute some stories for the book.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">A few years ago Phil went through a very hard time that caused him a great deal of trauma and anguish and resulted in the loss of a job he loved. While I was not living there in person, I was glad to be able to provide a level of support for him through regular phone calls and messages. It reinforced for me the value of true friendship, the importance of connection and the absolute worth of having people you love and trust to turn to when the shit hits the fan.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I love Phil. He is one of my closest mates and I greatly value his friendship. I know I say this about a lot of people but in every instance it is genuine and true. I am fortunate to have a number of very very good friends, people I love, respect and care about and who I believe feel the same way towards me. Friendships such as the one Phil and I share are a rich blessing for which I am immensely grateful.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I love you mate.<o:p></o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-6660477793078431532021-12-02T00:41:00.002+11:002021-12-02T00:41:30.018+11:0060 in 60 #28 Cam<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">60 in 60 #28</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Cam</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I am reflecting on the last 60 years, and writing 60 blog posts. 30 about people and 30 about events, places, experiences and entities.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ5JW5Nu9rv8LpX42esZuaCtDcswD8gEGcvXDvnr-62YTIRdkPK7y-fd4dbxI69jhZetQCgNYkQAVSFox2k0gfJjfLenMvbcsE6TmA6hcpzLk4PdwA1JnkwGJInEbN_HMrNwW0Y1gvWOA/s1094/958B31ED-322E-42A3-9CE5-C761C74DFDCB.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1094" height="391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ5JW5Nu9rv8LpX42esZuaCtDcswD8gEGcvXDvnr-62YTIRdkPK7y-fd4dbxI69jhZetQCgNYkQAVSFox2k0gfJjfLenMvbcsE6TmA6hcpzLk4PdwA1JnkwGJInEbN_HMrNwW0Y1gvWOA/w521-h391/958B31ED-322E-42A3-9CE5-C761C74DFDCB.jpeg" width="521" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">When I started as chaplain at Carine in 1993 one of the local District Council members was a lovely lady called Anne Tero. Her husband Terry was a Uniting Church minister at Duncraig. Anne was very supportive of my work and Terry was someone I occasionally talked to about how things were going at the school. Several years later they moved to take up ministry in Bridgetown, which happened to be where Mum lived for many years. When she married Walter I was able to conduct the service under the supervision and authority of Terry. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Anne and Terry were a beautiful godly couple with servant hearts and gentle spirits. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">What I didn’t know until a few years later was that Anne would go home from council meetings and relate a lot of my chaplaincy stories to her son Cameron. I didn’t know him but by virtue of his Mum, he knew “of” me. Therefore it was great to meet him when he became chaplain at Kent St High School and we quickly became friends. We shared a love of sport and being the enterprising and community-building types we were, we arranged a few North v South Chaplain’s events, pitting chaplains from either side of the Swan River in friendly competition. I recall an indoor cricket game and a go-karting session. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">In those early days of chaplaincy in WA we all got together regularly for PD days and a retreat once a year. Cam and I attended “religiously” and our friendship grew. I should say that for those who don’t know Cam personally, he has the looks of a choirboy, is the very picture of innocence, with a boyish face and glasses that give him a studious appearance. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">But, dear reader, don’t be fooled by that outward charm! Cam possesses a mischievous nature and a quiet dry wit, a twinkle in his eye and he is not averse to a bit of skulduggery or a subtle cutting comment.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The retreats were a constant source of amusement. I think we broke a window at Wollaston one time kicking footies, or throwing missiles at one another, or maybe we just got told off for the possibility of it! Brian was in charge back then and I don’t think he knew how to take all of us young blokes, with our similar interests, passions and energy. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">There was a memorable night when he came out in his PJs to tell us to quieten down! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">For a few years the retreats were held at Kobeelya in Katanning. They were memorable for many reasons: Sev groaning and threatening to throw up as we played on one of the tilted merry go rounds at the adventure playground in town, holding “The Lesser Silence” as a protest the year Youthcare decided to hold “The Greater Silence” for the first day of the retreat!, watching the Wallabies win the World Cup in a crowded common room late on Saturday night, and sharing the excitement when my nephew Daniel Foster was drafted by Geelong. However, the two things I’ll never forget both involved Cam. The first was sneaking into a few dorms when most people were asleep and drawing on their faces with textas! Discretion overtook valour though when we realised one room we had sneaked into was Ted’s. Ted Witham that is, Brian’s successor and a truly lovely man. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The other memory centred on the table tennis tournament that had been running all weekend. On the Sunday afternoon it culminated in the final with Cam and I playing Broady and someone else. I am, and have always been, very competitive so I was feeling good when we got to match point with a five point lead. Sadly, I had not counted on Cam’s bizarre and unhelpful decision to then go for a smash on every shot he played! After 2-3 of these misguided missiles went astray I suggested to Cam that he play it a bit safer seeing as we only needed a point to win! My request fell on deaf ears as Cam continued to go for broke with every shot, the result being we snatched defeat from the jaws of victory and lost the tournament! Broady delights in retelling the story and witnessing the change in my disposition as Cam threw away a certain victory!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcKM_fa83sSYw5p-q-BQgcHnTjKnEDbvJ2z-g8KtogTl6NtZr30_L1nrqRjAU1VmfMkq8I6TKYAOPm5i5bvmdWPr4uplh2_xv6PNoYHrst5K_zI-_V4EWZw6geXM4359E44asAaRjUHic/s820/CCEED634-F07C-4702-B468-1A33963B5CC9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="615" height="505" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcKM_fa83sSYw5p-q-BQgcHnTjKnEDbvJ2z-g8KtogTl6NtZr30_L1nrqRjAU1VmfMkq8I6TKYAOPm5i5bvmdWPr4uplh2_xv6PNoYHrst5K_zI-_V4EWZw6geXM4359E44asAaRjUHic/w379-h505/CCEED634-F07C-4702-B468-1A33963B5CC9.jpeg" width="379" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Later retreats were held at New Norcia and were the scene of the annual Trivial Pursuit battles between the men and the women. After dinner we would gather in the common room and pitch wits and memories against each other. Cam and I were the foundation members of the blokes’ team while “The Mother of all Chaplains”, Heather Gare led the women’s team. Never could there be a more different approach to TP. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">When the blokes got a tough question there’d be a brief discussion to see if anyone knew the answer, then we’d quickly gauge our best guess and go with that, maybe 1-2 minutes to respond. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">But when the girls got a tough question Heather would start the painful process that went something like this.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Q: What city did Leonardo DaVinci come from?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Heather: I don’t know, do you girls? It could be Rome, he was an Italian, maybe it was Rome, what are some other cities? Venice, maybe it was Venice, I think it could have been Venice, does Venice sound right? Or Turin, where is Turin? Or Milan maybe, that sounds like it might be right, what do you think girls? I’m leaning towards Milan, how about you? Shall we go with Milan? Or can you think of anywhere else, are there any other Italian cities we haven’t thought of? Naples is another one, maybe it was Naples, what do you think? <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We better decide on an answer, shall we go with Naples?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Another voice: Florence is in Italy isn’t it?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Heather again: Oh yes, Florence is a good suggestion, it could be Florence, what do you think? Is it Florence? I think it might be Florence, shall we go with Florence girls?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">This is not an exaggeration, if anything I have understated it! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">And the answer of course was Florence.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">This happened time and time again! If they were keeping stats for time in possession, the girls would have had the “ball”/question for at least twice as long as the boys. The games went on for hours and people gradually bowed out until there were just the diehards left, and Cam never deserted his brothers once. I miss those nights.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The program wasn’t important, it was always the connections, the talking and sharing, the praying and singing, the mutual understanding and appreciation of what we all did and the different ways in which we did it that made the retreats so worthwhile and memorable. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">When Youthcare grew too big to run retreats Cam and I decided to act and we started running retreats for chaplains ourselves, at Busselton, on the Holy Mile. About a dozen people came and we spent a lot of time talking, sharing our experiences, praying for one another and connecting through our common roles. Of course, there was also a lot of laughter and fun, trips to galleries and beaches in the beautiful south-west, and plenty of food and conviviality. Needless to say, there was Trivial Pursuit as well. Sadly we only got to run ours for two years, the second one coming just before I lost my job.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBHNIuJcvEI-9RRnvGza9ysa29GsJ_wBwnPUuLK6q00bXFKhts63RXycJVDh0x2pEUabmtiOzfgWzu88b8JFLNM8s5nWK7P7RFnoj-Ivyt_N5M8LFtz1KZSXAmE3t8BA8mkOaELr72ZlY/s820/2A9D8A12-3104-4268-A1AF-62AE940EDAFD.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="615" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBHNIuJcvEI-9RRnvGza9ysa29GsJ_wBwnPUuLK6q00bXFKhts63RXycJVDh0x2pEUabmtiOzfgWzu88b8JFLNM8s5nWK7P7RFnoj-Ivyt_N5M8LFtz1KZSXAmE3t8BA8mkOaELr72ZlY/w345-h460/2A9D8A12-3104-4268-A1AF-62AE940EDAFD.jpeg" width="345" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Louise and Cameron</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpEuDhIHlNnRq0m4xOn7A6XCKOrgZu93aSxg6sQT7VRfysLA_RSfti3X5f4s1Bb2Ga36lEahVAFprk1H-ONOOMNvvFW_6Jokgln8r13QiTq35pTX3Fwt17QieVyToHTDCteV40ixQiPug/s1094/766861E7-C2E9-4E83-A18B-53FC8EA4E24E.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1094" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpEuDhIHlNnRq0m4xOn7A6XCKOrgZu93aSxg6sQT7VRfysLA_RSfti3X5f4s1Bb2Ga36lEahVAFprk1H-ONOOMNvvFW_6Jokgln8r13QiTq35pTX3Fwt17QieVyToHTDCteV40ixQiPug/s320/766861E7-C2E9-4E83-A18B-53FC8EA4E24E.jpeg" width="320" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">With 2 of the girls, at our place</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Another joint effort with Cam was editing and producing Capella, the newsletter of WASSCA- West Australian State School Chaplains Association. Along with Andrew Paul we would get together once a term to write and compile stories and articles about chaplaincy as experienced by the 100+ chaplains who were working in schools around WA. Cam is a writer and said on more than one occasion that there should be a book written about school chaplaincy in WA. There is a wealth of stories that could be shared. I hope it happens one day. Writing, printing, binding and distributing Capella was a big job and the three of us worked very effectively to make it happen for several years. I still have all the issues of Capella in a box in the shed.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I have always been an initiator and one of my proudest accomplishments was bringing together a group of mates in chaplaincy to form the CFFL- Chaplain’s Fantasy Football League. I had learnt about fantasy footy at Carine, thanks to Scotty Underwood and I knew I had to get my mates involved. Cam joined immediately and nearly 20 years later, the CFFL is still going strong. The events and stories have taken on mythic proportions and when we get together for the annual Winner’s Dinner, the legendary tales are repeated and embellished. I will write more about it in a future chapter of 60 in 60 but I need to mention the founding member coaches of the CFFL because they are amongst my closest and most treasured mates.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Along with Cam there was Darren Birch, Greg Letch, Andrew Broadbent, Warren Haley, Grant Collins and Steve Jansz. The connection I have with these blokes, and a few more who have joined the league since, is unbreakable and priceless. The CFFL is much more than a fantasy footy comp, it’s a brotherhood with deep roots, common history, fabulous memories and a shared love for footy and for one another. In the 19 years of our existence I have only missed the Winner’s Dinner once despite having lived in Victoria for the last 10 years, and the one I didn’t make was thanks to covid. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYIsgzU_VsrZ2uZDQCLq915TXTX5bAMnbVMmeS8FivDBgDw7LPRqSC-9QAtfbzeJa1SWlpoqmHacFvrnafM4SkTMmPx3zz3or1BStnUKYdtT9OYT1WC1HE-TcHaHJg-J8LfQXLSkac2Eg/s1094/D76C42CD-4132-4A75-B6D7-C5116096190D.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1094" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYIsgzU_VsrZ2uZDQCLq915TXTX5bAMnbVMmeS8FivDBgDw7LPRqSC-9QAtfbzeJa1SWlpoqmHacFvrnafM4SkTMmPx3zz3or1BStnUKYdtT9OYT1WC1HE-TcHaHJg-J8LfQXLSkac2Eg/w471-h353/D76C42CD-4132-4A75-B6D7-C5116096190D.jpeg" width="471" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">One of the Winner's Dinners in Perth at Michael and Rachel's place</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Not long after we moved to Busselton in 2004, Cam’s parents retired to a beautiful home in Albany. Sadly, Terry died not long after that and didn’t get to enjoy the retirement on earth he had richly deserved. A great number of people travelled to Albany for his funeral and to honour a truly godly man. Cam wrote to me recently recounting some of the stories of his childhood as he watched the genuine and humble way in which his Mum and Dad served the people in their community and reached out with hospitality and love to all. Anne still lives in Albany and we stay in touch, mostly through Cam, although we did get to visit and stay for a lovely weekend in Albany one time when the kids were younger. A couple of years ago Anne came to Melbourne for a conference and Carolyn and I were able to meet her and take her out for dinner in Lygon St. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyKGEU8g_MwtMN3jraankqrYeUPU3pqjnRkZ29OrMyfR9hk1UHD7bm_kIZOWyuuunNGFJm9dTCHEfj2H1-D_p-y-ty62CtpUiyig3mMz7HW9agGe1vXx2irhEx3qYK_l8M6igvE7m2Ok/s1094/705C9178-6717-4369-A0CF-57AFDEC3F39C.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1094" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyKGEU8g_MwtMN3jraankqrYeUPU3pqjnRkZ29OrMyfR9hk1UHD7bm_kIZOWyuuunNGFJm9dTCHEfj2H1-D_p-y-ty62CtpUiyig3mMz7HW9agGe1vXx2irhEx3qYK_l8M6igvE7m2Ok/w459-h344/705C9178-6717-4369-A0CF-57AFDEC3F39C.jpeg" width="459" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Dinner with Anne in Carlton.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I often think of his parents because I see so much of them in Cam. He epitomises everything that is good in a person. When I think of Cam, the word that instantly comes to mind is respect. There are many people that I love and value, whose friendship I treasure, but there are very few people I respect and admire more than Cam. He is a quiet and gentle man, softly spoken but full of wisdom and deep insight. He is a thinker who reflects on life and the world and brings a maturity and wisdom to those reflections. He is a devoted husband to Louise and a loving father to his three daughters and together they make a truly beautiful family. When I want a chat, I call Broady. When I want a laugh, I call Letchy. When I have important decisions to make or events to share I call Paul. But when I want someone wise, someone with empathy, understanding and compassion, I call Cam. We talk about footy and family and work and life as well but I know that if I need wisdom without prejudice, Cam is my go-to man. Yesterday was his birthday (50<sup>th</sup> I think). I would have gone to the party but the WA borders are still closed so I couldn’t make it. This small offering is my gift to Cam, a mate who has blessed me time and time again. I love you mate, Happy Birthday.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FT-oA3MxPVwGMPP_gIWcQ4AdvRArjn9f3j_t-DdhZiFhl_hprZ_ZzpIUB1QC24lJmbIykBpzKm6c9oZb5kMYMKVrm4wpvfV_Blxp2Ev1rbPJxb9qjqbjmAqi-Sxk0h2EObLW_yEqie4/s820/81A213BE-ED45-4B2C-9EA2-E2B7C8E45176.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="615" height="552" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FT-oA3MxPVwGMPP_gIWcQ4AdvRArjn9f3j_t-DdhZiFhl_hprZ_ZzpIUB1QC24lJmbIykBpzKm6c9oZb5kMYMKVrm4wpvfV_Blxp2Ev1rbPJxb9qjqbjmAqi-Sxk0h2EObLW_yEqie4/w414-h552/81A213BE-ED45-4B2C-9EA2-E2B7C8E45176.jpeg" width="414" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Cam is a long-suffering Fremantle Dockers fan (is there any other kind?) and on this day at Kardinia Park he got a selfie with one of the reasons for that suffering! </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">A couple of final anecdotes. Cam and I took a weekend footy trip to Melbourne many years ago and stayed with his mate Dave. We went to a garage sale on the Saturday morning and Cam bought an old metal bucket for a couple of dollars. I’ll never forget him taking it on board the plane home as his carry-on luggage.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Possibly inspired by my decision to give Paul the middle name Ablett, when Cam and Louise had kids Cam hoped to have a son so that he could name him Bradman. I told him that he could still have given one of the girls Bradman as a middle name. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Finally Cam, I have not mentioned a certain dog that shall not be named or the vandalism inflicted on one of my chairs at the only CFFL draft ever held in Busselton. <o:p></o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-11052225906330970292021-11-28T23:54:00.003+11:002021-11-28T23:54:49.402+11:0060 in 60 #27 RYLA and Rypen<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">60 in 60 #27</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Rotary- RYLA & RYPEN</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I am reflecting on the last 60 years, and writing 60 blog posts. 30 about people and 30 about events, places, experiences and entities.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLdomAiwVlxGpgsU5ZRWDPPcGRG2LdZEWF8n8QZLU-ItAl8qQNGVVY9bkg1hKw5HnebroLkLutD_gibNrXPru5oRfBqvlR2NqnCWjMMGDz7aZgef8hDs5N6xypYPgD7-rG7SwJVmg7pHY/s224/1B24C5D9-C6BD-4593-9B67-3190AD1CDF7B_4_5005_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="224" data-original-width="224" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLdomAiwVlxGpgsU5ZRWDPPcGRG2LdZEWF8n8QZLU-ItAl8qQNGVVY9bkg1hKw5HnebroLkLutD_gibNrXPru5oRfBqvlR2NqnCWjMMGDz7aZgef8hDs5N6xypYPgD7-rG7SwJVmg7pHY/w167-h167/1B24C5D9-C6BD-4593-9B67-3190AD1CDF7B_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="167" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZNk6xBGdt7o27GgYy9X-BEGL4d_dr6Sn3noFiqx4P9iHdOlD66Y6UOj_Z9xA7EvpCRvmwhIpMxJC5L2Vr0HzMoUqE-s7lu9dRxjbS6mujqBdSNHhclmc6ZERMnmAhiiq-2Wf0uVOTsE/s335/RYLA.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="150" data-original-width="335" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZNk6xBGdt7o27GgYy9X-BEGL4d_dr6Sn3noFiqx4P9iHdOlD66Y6UOj_Z9xA7EvpCRvmwhIpMxJC5L2Vr0HzMoUqE-s7lu9dRxjbS6mujqBdSNHhclmc6ZERMnmAhiiq-2Wf0uVOTsE/w308-h138/RYLA.png" width="308" /></a></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I am not and never have been a member of Rotary, the international service club. But, I have great respect for them as an organisation and a long association with them dating back to 1985. Rotary has clubs all over the world, divided up into districts. There are three districts in WA, 945, 946 & 947. That year, the first after I returned from my time overseas, I was working for the YMCA. Someone gave me an application form for RYLA- the Rotary Youth Leadership Award seminar, an annual leadership training event held in each district. As mentioned previously, I loved going on camps and this sounded like it would be fun. It turned out to be much more than that. For the best part of the next twenty years I was involved with Rotary in one form or another.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">My RYLA seminar was held at Lake Cooloongup, south of Perth and was directed by Peter “Chook” Henson. About fifty 18-25 year-olds gathered for a week full of fun, but intensive activities. The program included communication skills, group dynamics, initiative challenges, trust exercises, small group discussions and special events. Chook did a great job and there was a fantastic sense of camaraderie between the participants and the facilitators.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The event that I remember most vividly was called the One World Dinner. As we entered the dining hall we were each given a card and depending on the card, were directed to one of three areas for lunch. At first it seemed like a game but it soon became apparent something bigger was going on. A small group sat at a lavishly decorated table and were attended by waiters who supplied an abundance of fancy food and drink to the lucky recipients. A larger group sat at a plain table and after the top table had been catered for, received a plate of plain sandwiches and a jug of cordial. The final, largest group, of which I was one, sat on the floor in a crowded designated area and about an hour later were given one pot of boiled rice to share. No explanation was given. It was up to us to work out what was happening and interpret it accordingly. The whole exercise lasted a couple of hours and it was an emotional and eye-opening experience. To conclude it, labels were attached to the three areas, USA for the top table, India for the bottom group and a second world country for the middle group. When it finished we all sat in a big circle to debrief and discuss what we thought it was about. It was simple yet profound. We had had a brief taste of the disparity in the world, of the inequality experienced each day where millions of people go hungry while a small number of “wealthy” people have more than enough. It led to a lot of intense discussion and reflection and not a few tears. As a new Christian I was deeply moved by the whole thing and felt grateful to the team who had run it for “enlightening” us in such an effective way. I said at the time they should have labelled the top table Australia though.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We were introduced to representatives of the RYLA Association, a group of people who had attended various other RYLA seminars, and many of us joined up. There were lots of great people on my seminar, one of whom, Michelle, became a friend who I’m still in touch with 35 years later.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We went to the annual RYLA Association reunion weekend a few months later and I was elected President! For the next few years I was active in the Association and edited the newsletter. We ran a weekend camp for kids called Uncle RYLA each year.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Michelle worked for one of the Rotarians and in 1989 when they were looking for a new seminar director she suggested me. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9wVHMiA4U3ondsx-MX1gZfa4NX85byUL9sH4Ejpz2x-224pNkSxp1p_RAiTCGzaWuaTlW__-dF7hc0ox7sZzqYcqwBNyLqn8-ZdlXdAQcpdW0CHnlsH_EhW-tW-MwBbtw-5uwg-VBZs/s368/BBC279DE-74A4-4C20-B1BA-679A606BCFE9_4_5005_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="136" data-original-width="368" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9wVHMiA4U3ondsx-MX1gZfa4NX85byUL9sH4Ejpz2x-224pNkSxp1p_RAiTCGzaWuaTlW__-dF7hc0ox7sZzqYcqwBNyLqn8-ZdlXdAQcpdW0CHnlsH_EhW-tW-MwBbtw-5uwg-VBZs/s320/BBC279DE-74A4-4C20-B1BA-679A606BCFE9_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="320" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">From 1990 to 1995 I directed six RYLA seminars, mostly back at Lake Cooloongup. I recruited a team of group facilitators and we spent 3-4 months planning and preparing the program. I can’t recall all of them but amongst my teams over the years were Michelle, Laurie Haynes, Mike Klenner, Kent Pitman, Alex Leitch, Steve Merchant, Khristo Newall, Phil Sparrow (remember that name), Sally Burgess and one special year, Carolyn was able to be part of the team while Mum looked after our kids. Some of the program we copied from our own RYLAs, some of it was new but the main structure centred around small groups where participants could debrief the events of the day or engage in discussion about a range of topics in a safe supportive environment. They became known as D&M groups (Deep and Meaningful). <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We added in a new adventure element to RYLA, taking the participants to Margaret River for three days of camping, abseiling ,caving and a high ropes course. It was a brilliant addition to the program that built a huge level of trust and cooperation as people faced risk and challenge in an atmosphere of encouragement and support. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVi51NfPWYwxG1DPRsRgv91EXVglsnhyadKpX4fmuiNAoFgL007yiGWRNyZf9Kv1DVjEglrUm5i-IwA2T0hLwaGXykiefilYlsB-LpdwjOUGEKm4ABcJhNNWvh838jF6cSDVMMSK-Ceik/s318/F5AE98AF-918F-4EE9-943D-597F5A7354CD_4_5005_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="158" data-original-width="318" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVi51NfPWYwxG1DPRsRgv91EXVglsnhyadKpX4fmuiNAoFgL007yiGWRNyZf9Kv1DVjEglrUm5i-IwA2T0hLwaGXykiefilYlsB-LpdwjOUGEKm4ABcJhNNWvh838jF6cSDVMMSK-Ceik/w426-h212/F5AE98AF-918F-4EE9-943D-597F5A7354CD_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="426" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Initially we invited guest speakers and presenters but each year as we refined the program we ran more of the sessions ourselves.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I wanted to include the One World Dinner so I went to see Chook to ask his advice and was shocked when he told me it had not been on their original program, it happened because one of his team suggested it while we were at RYLA! I looked for someone experienced to run it for us, including Terry Tero, whose son Cam is now one of my best mates. Unable to find someone willing or able to do it, in the end I decided to have a go myself. It was a steep learning curve but the OWD became one of the standout activities at RYLA each year. We developed roles within it including “plants” at the top table and in the bottom group who accentuated their place in the hierarchy. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">For a few years on the penultimate night we joined the participants at another Rotary program, Handicamp, run for people with disabilities, for a disco. It took people out of our comfort zones but was always a highlight of the seminar. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Directing RYLA was a fantastic opportunity and the feedback each year was incredibly positive, for many people it was life-changing as they grew in confidence and self-belief. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">It also took a huge amount of work and time, as well as sacrifice on behalf of Carolyn and the kids so after 6 years I “retired” as director. I was greatly honoured the following year when I was named a Paul Harris Fellow, the highest honour bestowed by Rotary, named for its founder.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_4dMYeYBAgQJ1eArtTasFic5S72OthXwNmUXICzZs0BVDLNcE9EyUk1pDW0p_R2n3t5Wd0klpomD1RGaNLuHMfgwFiDbhRlbPyo7NDRDg9jbgcCXG8jnpRTIrGWzakChqhmzB-faceA/s254/2DA0F56E-2501-4679-866C-EF03FC79FEC8_4_5005_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="182" data-original-width="254" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_4dMYeYBAgQJ1eArtTasFic5S72OthXwNmUXICzZs0BVDLNcE9EyUk1pDW0p_R2n3t5Wd0klpomD1RGaNLuHMfgwFiDbhRlbPyo7NDRDg9jbgcCXG8jnpRTIrGWzakChqhmzB-faceA/w443-h317/2DA0F56E-2501-4679-866C-EF03FC79FEC8_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="443" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">My work for Rotary continued though, this time as director of RYPEN- Rotary Youth Program of Enrichment, a weekend camp for teenagers from around Western Australia. It was not aimed at leaders so much as kids who were identified as having potential and who may benefit from a motivating experience. For both RYLA and Rypen, Rotary sponsored them to come and covered all the costs. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Our motto was “Fun with a Purpose” and I again recruited a team of facilitators to help me run it. My 2ic was Demelza Needham who I later had the privilege of marrying to fellow Rypen team member Greg Ireland. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">While Rypen was not as complex or demanding as RYLA it was still a full-on program that required months of planning and preparation each year. There was more emphasis on fun through games but there were still small groups and challenges. Rather than a One World Dinner, we ran the Money Challenge. It was first suggested by Phil and each year it grew bigger and more impactful. I wrote about it in Chapter 25 about Carine because I ran the Money Challenge on the Year 10 Leadership Camp. By the final years, campers were contributing $10 each, making a final “prize” for the winner of $600-700 thus generating plenty of interest! The camp started on a Friday night with ice breaker games then after dinner, Men in Black, a wide game mimicking the movie where the team dressed, and danced!, as the MIB and the campers were the aliens trying to escape. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Saturday morning the team would take off, don disguises and hide, trying to avoid being caught by the campers in a game we called “Armadale Fugitive”. If discovered, campers had to sing the line of a current pop song and the fugitives had to sing the next line to verify capture. More than once unsuspecting shoppers were confronted by groups of excited kids randomly singing to them. My most memorable disguise was to hide inside a fridge box outside an electrical retailer and watch kids passing by through a peephole.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">After lunch the groups were taken through a series of physical and mental problem-solving activities in the Adventure Journey. Borrowing ideas from American organisation, Project Adventure, games such as the Spider’s Web and Nuclear Reactor were fun as well as opportunities to learn about leadership, teamwork and cooperation.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Sunday mornings were given over to art and creativity as we screen printed T-shirts, made badges and modelled with Fimo to create cool souvenirs and mementos of Rypen. The last session was devoted to more games such as Wink Plague Murder before culminating in Police and Protestors which involved all the males huddling in a group clinging to one another while all the girls tried to separate and drag them away from the rest of the boys. It was a sweaty and wild way to finish a fantastic camp for the kids.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">For the team it was not quite over. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">At the end of both RYLA and Rypen, the last evening was the much anticipated debrief and affirmation session where we talked through all of the elements of the program to gauge their success or otherwise. It was rare that something hadn’t gone well but there were times when we had to acknowledge mistakes and failures. At the end of the debrief we took time to give feedback and affirmations to each other, a process that built confidence and belief as well as issuing challenges to further growth as leaders and facilitators.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I ran Rypen for eleven years before a change in leadership at Rotary resulted in them choosing to run the camp themselves rather than contracting it out to directors and teams like ours. It was a sad end to a fantastic chapter in my career of working with teenagers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I had many wonderful team members over those 11 years and I am grateful to them for the time, effort and hard work they put in each year.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-67177433719186932372021-10-24T22:57:00.003+11:002021-10-24T22:57:58.012+11:0060 in 60 #26 Chris<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">60 in 60 #26</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Chris</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I am reflecting on the last 60 years, and writing 60 blog posts. 30 about people and 30 about events, places, experiences and entities.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTlKdsMbDnBwRpW2DnvG59abg0_9zEapJTq-NfLlsiVc5w95idu9WEsHUCZSUdSKPJ-NQu89M46CF-f9zjlnBRidUu69fA-L5TmRF4B_zhVkP66d_i5d-3xkFEO5-tUWqbuJI8nNWa9Hc/s1094/DEE9B989-8E35-4B0C-84D6-87F552B22BBB.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1094" height="473" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTlKdsMbDnBwRpW2DnvG59abg0_9zEapJTq-NfLlsiVc5w95idu9WEsHUCZSUdSKPJ-NQu89M46CF-f9zjlnBRidUu69fA-L5TmRF4B_zhVkP66d_i5d-3xkFEO5-tUWqbuJI8nNWa9Hc/w630-h473/DEE9B989-8E35-4B0C-84D6-87F552B22BBB.jpeg" width="630" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Around the time I started working with Fusion in Perth in 1989 a few other youthwork opportunities came up. One was as coordinator of the Chip Inn drop-in-centre at Warwick Church of Christ (a forthcoming chapter) and the other was at the KGB! Not the infamous Soviet spy agency, but rather, Koondoola-Girrawheen-Balga, a program that worked with disaffected and at-risk teenagers in one of the lowest socio-economic areas in Perth, seeking to get them back to school or into other positive programs. I began working with them two days a week and shortly after, the program’s name was changed to SPYE- Support Program for Youth Education. We worked with a small group of kids for a term teaching literacy and life-skills and linking up with other youth agencies in the area. One of those was a youth health service run by a nurse, Chris Vye. She was very supportive of the program and ran sessions on sex, drugs and associated health issues with our kids. She was not so impressed when one of the kids hit her in the head because she hadn’t done the required thumb to forehead protective measure after someone burped! I may or may not have introduced this immature game to the SPYE kids! (Sorry Chris!)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">One of the first things I learnt about Chris was she was a big West Coast Eagle fan. This led to a fierce rivalry and a lot of banter due to my love of Geelong and dislike for West Coast. They were Geelong’s nemesis in the early 90s and Chris was not shy about reminding me or rubbing it in, especially after the 92 and 94 Grand Finals. Despite this we became friends, especially so when she met Carolyn. They have developed a strong friendship in its own right. One night Carolyn made me put on a blindfold and drove me to a mystery destination. We arrived to a special dinner prepared for us by Chris at her place</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> in Balcatta. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJiWvagcCsOkOdraRkG8CQe35sOiqIyicYSwUBdoew45wpUiEzUrqAyKxmRo5mux2_lpbRJtUh4Dqh-VDr-ChSuqdi8JcSLTPSY6dt2GULFplvfg3pP6v0GC4ZRDOhU5ksNG2b87MKiVY/s1094/305DC845-E85B-4433-A2CE-E96C4B08BB00.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1094" height="483" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJiWvagcCsOkOdraRkG8CQe35sOiqIyicYSwUBdoew45wpUiEzUrqAyKxmRo5mux2_lpbRJtUh4Dqh-VDr-ChSuqdi8JcSLTPSY6dt2GULFplvfg3pP6v0GC4ZRDOhU5ksNG2b87MKiVY/w644-h483/305DC845-E85B-4433-A2CE-E96C4B08BB00.jpeg" width="644" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I moved on from SPYE and Chip Inn when I got the job at Carine and Chris headed to the north-west of WA to work at Wiluna and later at Hall’s Creek. She loved working with the local Indigenous population but it was challenging work, dealing with the impact of alcohol, violence and decades of racial prejudice and abuse. Understandably she took every chance to get away to Broome whenever she could, a lazy 7 hour drive! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Chris returned to Perth and then headed south, all the way to Esperance, where she still lives and works as a regional community nurse Manager. She is a dedicated professional with genuine concern for her clients and staff.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Esperance is a beautiful part of the world but a long way from Perth and the footy, the arts and music. Chris’ escapes now took her north to Perth or east to see her Mum and family, to Sydney for nurses’ reunions, or to her favourite place, Melbourne Park and the Australian Open tennis. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We were living in Busselton by now and chances to catch up were rare, only happening if we both happened to be in Perth at the same time. It’s one of those friendships that has strengthened and been maintained despite the distance, via email and snail mail, texts and Facebook messenger.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We have a mutual love of sport, share the same political views and an appreciation for good writing and journalism. Many times I’ve opened the mail to find a newspaper cutting or a cartoon Chris has sent me, knowing I’ll appreciate it, and my email inbox has a folder full of interesting articles and stories Chris has sent me. Each one reminds me that she is thinking of me and valuing our friendship. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We will never see eye-to-eye regarding our footy teams but I love the banter and commentary during the footy season as we share our passions and frustrations. Ironically, while she has no love at all for Geelong, she is absolutely smitten with Tom Hawkins! So much so that I made her a sticker, “I Love Tomahawk”. I love Tom too, but not in the same way Chris does!!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMq1xweSEQ2_j_kytQcfEZNV9Bqrgf5q4qi5Vpi0lPQKuiDVEej0HilDMM6cyhThM1eSPeBggOU2rMHnSQoWm_UhAI3dqAIaWf_LXnzl8nPCQLcGicnuppp9nlqjIvqsUgdX1ohQIXnL0/s270/860D69A3-B7CB-4A87-9AEF-745789BC7D99_4_5005_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="185" data-original-width="270" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMq1xweSEQ2_j_kytQcfEZNV9Bqrgf5q4qi5Vpi0lPQKuiDVEej0HilDMM6cyhThM1eSPeBggOU2rMHnSQoWm_UhAI3dqAIaWf_LXnzl8nPCQLcGicnuppp9nlqjIvqsUgdX1ohQIXnL0/w479-h328/860D69A3-B7CB-4A87-9AEF-745789BC7D99_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="479" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Chris loves rugby and has a very high opinion of the code and its gentlemanly conduct and respect for the referee, but has no time for one of my great loves, soccer, nor does she share my love of Gridiron.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">One year we decided to break with tradition and forego the family Christmas for some time away at Esperance. Unfortunately Chris had already made plans to go east and wasn’t going to be home but generously offered us the use of her house to stay in for the week. We had a lovely time but it was disappointing not to see her on the rare occasion we were in Esperance. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Another way we differ is that I am not a dog person (or any pets in fact) but Chris loves dogs and always has a beloved four-footed friend in her life. I see pictures and stories of Lily, and of Bella before her and I know they give her a lot of love and companionship. Chris loves photography, particularly Australian flora and fauna, the coast and the bush.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">When we were moving back to Victoria in 2010 the kids and Carolyn flew and I drove, with my mate Alex as co-driver and companion. We went via Esperance and spent a great night with Chris before we set off on the long journey across the Nullarbor.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Since we’ve been in Victoria Chris has been over many times, sometimes staying with us and sometimes inviting us to come and stay with her in an apartment in Melbourne so we can go to the tennis together. She has been wonderfully generous, shouting us tickets to the tennis and last year taking us to the Women’s Final. Sadly, Ash Barty lost in the semi, we had been hoping to see an Aussie victory. Chris loves Rafa Nadal (who I call Wedgie Boy) while I prefer Roger Federer. In between days at the tennis there are meals at quality restaurants and shopping expeditions for her and Carolyn. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">When I turned 50 Chris came over to join the celebrations with a few of my friends, a great weekend of fun, food and footy. I had just started painting and drawing, revealing an artistic side I didn’t know I had and Chris gave me an easel for my birthday to encourage me to pursue it. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We’ve gotten to a couple of games at the G and she keeps imploring me to come over to WA so we can go to a game at the new Perth Stadium together. In fact, Chris was one of the lucky people who got to go the Grand Final in Perth this season, courtesy of her brother who is a Melbourne member. When covid is finally subdued and life returns to something like normal I will indeed go back to WA and a date at the footy.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">As I reflect on my friendship with Chris it is interesting to see that while we have much in common, we have just as many differences, in tastes and opinions. What we have above all is a true love and respect for one another. Chris has been a caring and compassionate friend, generous and giving, fiery and funny, outspoken and obstinate, loving and loyal. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I don’t always agree with her but I love the dialogue and connection we share. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-50460725273163583332021-10-15T21:08:00.000+11:002021-10-15T21:08:10.214+11:0060 in 60 #25. Carine Part 3<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">60 in 60 #25</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Carine Part 3</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I am reflecting on the last 60 years, and writing 60 blog posts. 30 about people and 30 about events, places, experiences and entities.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVANdTL6Rh84Db6jrpXVuTNge4Rscg_eiDjDUN2vUGbY8X3SfCvSgiruzZrvREsJf7LjYB8LUZiLkw0myeRBAZiRFwpLa7Ks52inixBh9gV0NI_hfh3HlXWtX_oaIuqUwWMcJlTfmcHJQ/s2048/109711F9-3359-4481-84CF-EE97D42699FE.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="495" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVANdTL6Rh84Db6jrpXVuTNge4Rscg_eiDjDUN2vUGbY8X3SfCvSgiruzZrvREsJf7LjYB8LUZiLkw0myeRBAZiRFwpLa7Ks52inixBh9gV0NI_hfh3HlXWtX_oaIuqUwWMcJlTfmcHJQ/w371-h495/109711F9-3359-4481-84CF-EE97D42699FE.jpeg" width="371" /></a></div><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>The inimitable Bruce Boelen<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I spent eleven years as the chaplain at Carine SHS in the northern suburbs of Perth, from 1993 to 2004. It was a homecoming for me as I spent my final two years of high school at Carine. It was the best job I’ve ever had. As described in Carine parts 1 & 2, there were a lot of serious and heavy times at Carine, along with some spectacular successes. As the inaugural chaplain I had a lot of freedom to shape the role in my own image as it were! This is a snapshot of some of the ways I was able to do that.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">With a love of camping and an interest in leadership training I was drawn to the Peer Support Program that involved training year 10 students to be mentors to the incoming year 8s at the start of the school year. I took over the program, renamed it the Student Mentor Program and initiated the Year 10 Leadership Camp as the core training experience. I was already directing a camp called RYPEN for Rotary and used the program from it as a template for the year 10 camp. It grew in popularity and size each year as more kids wanted to get involved.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">On the first day we took the kids abseiling off the grain silos near Rockingham for some confidence building and trust. This was always a highlight, except for the year the school bus I was driving ran out of diesel as we left the silos. By the time we got fuel and back under way it took a couple of hours to get to the campsite, a drive that usually took 20 minutes!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">At night we played a wide game called Colditz around the Woodman Point campsite. The students were ‘prisoners of war’ who needed to retrieve parts of an escape kit hidden around the campsite while evading capture by the ‘guards’- the teachers and I. Chasing screaming teenagers through the bush basically!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">During the day we did leadership training activities: small discussion groups, trust games and communication exercises to prepare them as mentors. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">After dinner we played “The Money Game” a values clarification exercise where each kid put in a dollar and then they had to decide as a group what they wanted to do with the money through a process of consensus decision making. It was a time-consuming process as students argued the merits of various causes. Someone usually suggested the money be put to a party for everyone before more “worthy” causes won the day. In the first couple of years the money went to a charity of some kind which was fine but I decided we needed to up the ante. First, I increased the amount of money the kids put in, from $1 to $2 then to $5 and eventually $10. With somewhere close to a hundred kids on the camp in the last couple of years I ran it, the total amount in the kitty was close to a thousand dollars. Secondly I made the rule that it had to go to a student in the room rather than a charity and thirdly the money couldn’t be split or shared. I started the game by saying, “Who wants the money?” This changed the dynamics, especially when kids realised they had the chance to go home with several hundred dollars! It was great the way real and worthwhile requests were made and discussed as to why individual kids should get the money. Kids shared real needs and circumstances for which the money would be very helpful. Slowly 2-3 deserving recipients would emerge and gain support from the group. It then came down to consensus, it couldn’t be decided by a vote. The process was slow and challenging but respectful and ultimately satisfying. When an impasses arose I would say “The group seems to be leaning toward x. Even though you may prefer y or even z, can you live with x getting the money?” Eventually the group would come to consensus and someone would be given the money. A couple of times the group could not single out one recipient and insisted that I let them split the money. After a couple of hours of intense advocating and listening it seemed reasonable to do so. After one particularly intense version I heard some kids saying “This is not a game!” and I realised they were right so from then on I called it ‘The Money Challenge’. I always made a point of talking to the parents of the kid who got the money to assure them it had all been above board. I don’t remember all the kids or the causes but I do remember one year the money went to a boy who was a dancer for him to buy new ballet shoes, an impressively enlightened decision by the group at the time.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The second year of the camp my mate John Hackett told me about an idea he’d seen at another school and suggested we do it on the camp. It involved contacting all the parents before the camp and asking them to write a letter to their son or daughter to be given to them at the camp. The letter should affirm their child and talk about their character and attributes, the things they recognise, and admire, and the feelings they have for them. I loved the sound of it and we went for it, but there were some unintended consequences. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">. After a long and tiring day culminating in the intensity of The Money Challenge, we gave the kids the letters before bedtime and encouraged them to find a quiet place to read them. They were reading the sincere and heartfelt thoughts and feelings of their parents who were expressing their love for their children and kids were deeply moved, to the point of tears. In fact, within a couple of minutes the campsite was awash with tears!! Kids were crying all over the place! I looked at John and said “You didn’t tell me this would happen!!” <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The kids were very grateful for the letters but I learnt my lesson and in future years we did it after lunch instead of at night and not after The Money Challenge. Even under these more controlled conditions it was always a highly emotional exercise. Many kids thanked me and rated it as the best thing at the camp and it wasn’t just the kids who appreciated it, many parents thanked me for the opportunity to write the letter and for the closeness it had prompted in their relationship with their teenager.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Every year the camp was a huge hit and one year a group of year eleven students who’d been on it the previous year came to me asking for another camp. I was happy to accommodate them but I told them it would have to be something very different in style. Thus was born the Year 11 Leadership Camp which evolved into the Cool School Race Camp. It started small the first year, with 24 kids split into three groups, each with a staff member accompanying them on an urban orienteering exercise that lasted for three days. Born out of a simple exercise I’d seen on another program called SPYE and similar in style to the tv show The Amazing Race, the groups had to navigate their way around the city via public transport and find public art, statues and sculptures and all sorts of landmarks, and take pictures of them to prove they’d found them. Each picture was worth points according to how difficult they were to find. The staff were there only as supervisors not leaders and they were not allowed to tell the kids where to go or what to do, to answer questions or lead the groups. The students were responsible for all their own decisions- and consequences! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Each student had a strict budget of $30 for the camp, from which they had to pay for all their transport, food and expenses except for dinner on the second night when we bought pizzas for everyone. Managing their money was a challenge in budgeting and priorities. Watching groups argue about whether to spend 99c on a bottle of home brand lemonade or a loaf of bread was funny. Completing each challenge on the camp earned points and this included the teams that had the most money left at the end. Most groups worked out that it was better to pool their money and share their resources, usually choosing one person to be the holder of the group’s funds. The most memorable money incident happened one year when within an hour of the camp commencing I got a call from a student to say he had left his wallet on the first bus they’d caught and had lost all of the group’s money. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I said, “What do you want me to do about it?” <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">He asked where they would get replacement funds and was shocked when I said, there were no replacement funds, they were responsible for all of their actions and decisions and their consequences and they would have to work out what to do about it! To their great credit they rose to the challenge and survived for three days by begging, busking and bartering their way around the city. They discovered that shopkeepers could be quite sympathetic and supportive when they learned the students were on a leadership camp and ended up with an abundant supply of donated food.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">To add to the challenge, students had to carry everything with them in backpacks, and, they didn’t know where they were going! By that I mean, they weren’t told where they were camping each night, they had to solve a series of puzzles and clues in order to work out their destination. The first year they camped at a traditional campsite but in subsequent years campsite one was usually a league football ground such as Perth Oval or Perry Lakes stadium with the kids sleeping in tents. There were lots of challenges on the camp but in another example of unintended consequences, late one night at Perry Lakes the sprinklers came on and started soaking kids’ gear, their tents and them. When I booked the stadium nobody had thought to tell the maintenance staff to turn off the sprinkler system for the night! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The teachers were certain I had done it on purpose and the fact that I was sleeping in the grandstand only heightened their suspicion, but, even though I had made the camp as challenging as I could, I had not gone to that length! Ironically, the next time we used Perry Lakes, a few years later I made sure to tell the booking agent that the sprinklers had to be turned off on the oval in the middle of the running track. I was sure I’d taken care of everything but to my dismay, late that night, the sprinklers came on again but this time, only on the grassed area surrounding the oval! They had turned off the main sprinklers but not the perimeter ones and sure enough, a few kids had set up their tents in the “wrong” place. John Hackett was now 100% certain I was guilty! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pnt9EGCu4duIj6X5uN20xMKIdnrixhovG_IZtwLYSh7Ya1Y05QKjVjdYv6YDfgZphSCL-OclfRaKSOVlqMk8yV4Y98I-T0nWest_P7CUEmsn7u4Fa20uYCsaz-_T3elXW9l8N85x8nE/s909/9A64F2E1-C0EA-49EA-A07E-2786A326DC09.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="909" height="441" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pnt9EGCu4duIj6X5uN20xMKIdnrixhovG_IZtwLYSh7Ya1Y05QKjVjdYv6YDfgZphSCL-OclfRaKSOVlqMk8yV4Y98I-T0nWest_P7CUEmsn7u4Fa20uYCsaz-_T3elXW9l8N85x8nE/w648-h441/9A64F2E1-C0EA-49EA-A07E-2786A326DC09.jpeg" width="648" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> Year 11 campers at Perry Lakes, before the sprinkler incident.</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">For campsite two I arranged for the campers to stay the night at a school somewhere in Perth with the kids sleeping in the gym. Again they didn’t know where they were going and the clues were to be found on a puzzle on the internet. First they had to solve a cryptic puzzle to obtain a phone number which they rang to get the web address and password they needed. Each question on the puzzle had to be answered by surfing the internet to find information. The answers were the password to the next question. Once they had solved all the questions they were given addresses of places such as businesses from which they could obtain the location of campsite two. I enlisted people all over Perth to assist with the camp. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">One year my friend Sally had the answer on her answering machine and she delighted in listening to the kids’ messages as they desperately sought the answer they needed. I should mention here that the kids were not allowed to use mobile phones and could only use phone booths to make calls (remember them?). Many business owners were very happy to be part of the adventure and to deliver the highly prized envelopes containing the campsite location to triumphant groups.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">On the final day of the camp we relieved the kids of their backpacks as they set off on the final race segment of the camp. They received a series of clues revealing their next checkpoint and a set of challenges to complete at each one such as bowling two strikes at a tenpin bowling alley, hitting a hole-in-one at a mini golf course, paddling a kayak across the river or assembling a model made out of plumbing parts at Bunnings. It was a desperate race to the finish line at the end of an exhausting three days. Each year I tried to come up with new challenges and ideas for the camp. One year the location of campsite one was in a display ad in The West Australian newspaper but my finest moment was convincing Myf Warhurst to announce the clue on her radio show on Triple J. To ensure the groups tuned in I hired a plane to tow a banner behind it and fly up and down the Swan River at a set time. The banner read, “Listen to Myf on JJJ between 11-12.” <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The camp grew in size and popularity every year and, as its reputation spread other schools wanted to get involved. By the time I last ran the camp there were over 200 students and 35 staff from 6 schools participating. The feedback from students was invariably positive with kids saying it was the most challenging and memorable experience of their school lives. The final validation came from parents who rang or wrote to me to say their son or daughter had not stopped talking about the camp for days. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">There were many funny memories but my favourite was the day John called me to check whether the picture of the castle the kids were looking for was near Armadale? Remember, teachers were not allowed to give information, directions or answers, the kids were in charge whether they were right or wrong. I confided to John that , no, it wasn’t near Armadale. He said, I’m walking down the SW Highway, it’s 40 degrees, the kids are going the wrong way and I’m not allowed to tell them am I? “You know the rules John!” “You bastard” he replied before I hung up!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjri8L_xUCRQPbg9DaBKY2I1PmcRUXu2vFMK7Ghisv1zz9QTHK5Cl0ZiCww60IeLO2FH0IamLRV56haCJheeMVdQVcl_jGrDHHZXoBqMwIsP-KIoxF0B9j04A2fnaIXwkDk8XkqClFtTlU/s1191/948E8F86-7152-4C21-BCCE-9FD2A675E441.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="890" height="671" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjri8L_xUCRQPbg9DaBKY2I1PmcRUXu2vFMK7Ghisv1zz9QTHK5Cl0ZiCww60IeLO2FH0IamLRV56haCJheeMVdQVcl_jGrDHHZXoBqMwIsP-KIoxF0B9j04A2fnaIXwkDk8XkqClFtTlU/w501-h671/948E8F86-7152-4C21-BCCE-9FD2A675E441.jpeg" width="501" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p>Bridge swinging on the Challenge Adventure Program prompted the police to ask what we were doing!</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I was always open to opportunities at Carine. I initiated the Challenge Adventure Program, aimed at boosting the confidence of kids with low self-esteem by taking them on a series of adventure activities such as abseiling, mountain biking, hiking, camping and bridge swinging. One day we took the group canoeing on the upper Swan River. All seemed to be going well until a couple of hours into the paddle the river kept getting narrower which didn’t make sense. Eventually we pulled up on the narrow bank and I got out to investigate and discovered to my dismay that we had gone the wrong way on the river and were miles away from our intended destination! This was in the days of the brick mobile phones and I had the embarrassing task of ringing the school to say the kids would be late getting back! By the time I got a lift to where we had left the bus, drove it back to the kids and they had carried the canoes several hundred metres through a vineyard to load them on the trailer and then drove back to school we were nearly three hours late! The weirdest part was that neither the other teacher or I thought we were going the wrong way, the water seemed to be flowing in that direction and we were none-the-wiser until the river became a creek!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibByhhmIQ-ZRYe2CJbHxgOXnqk6JeENvhYpWSHDklEYh2T7f2N5uD5I3X-Hs3KIfOr4uaVV4qGD1a8rVKcxKzTQZoHrUcf_UArGI4-wqFXWT7kiZfdJayeOqx8E3cUBnnMrRbZ3tCb6cE/s1094/1A313063-6542-4914-BD5E-861417FF8A5B.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1094" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibByhhmIQ-ZRYe2CJbHxgOXnqk6JeENvhYpWSHDklEYh2T7f2N5uD5I3X-Hs3KIfOr4uaVV4qGD1a8rVKcxKzTQZoHrUcf_UArGI4-wqFXWT7kiZfdJayeOqx8E3cUBnnMrRbZ3tCb6cE/w637-h478/1A313063-6542-4914-BD5E-861417FF8A5B.jpeg" width="637" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p>Laurie Haynes and his two boys, Travis and Beau.</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">My mate Laurie Haynes who was chaplain at Rockingham HS had been to America and experienced a 30-day wilderness hike with at-risk teenagers. He was keen to start something like it in Western Australia and enlisted my support along with Steve Gallagher from Como HS and thus the Wilderness Intervention Program was born. We did two reconnaissance hikes in the Stirling Ranges in preparation and then took six kids on a ten day hike, starting from the eastern end up the aptly named “Misery” then hiking along the ridge, over the Three Arrows before culminating at Bluff Knoll, the highest point in WA. The philosophy of the WIP was non-direct intervention, with natural consequences being allowed to shape the kids’ choices and responses. The participants were identified as being ‘at-risk’ and the hope was that the wilderness experience would challenge them and their models of behaviour and attitudes towards themselves and other people.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The WIP was memorable for two reasons. The first was that two of the kids rebelled because it was so hard and they were well out of their comfort zone. So much so in fact that they did a runner! We were forced to change plans and go in pursuit of them. Laurie was like a wilderness guru and anticipated their every move, deducing that they would descend the third Arrow track and head back to the place we were dropped off. The kids didn’t know we had a phone and he used it to contact the local police. Much to their horror the cops were waiting for the runaways at the bottom of the track! We caught up to them a couple of hours later, further souring their mood! Because they had taken off we were obliged to contact their parents to let them know what had happened and to seek their permission for the kids to stay on the program. The parents agreed that it would be better for them to continue than to “take the easy way out”. We didn’t tell the kids we had spoken to their parents and they breathed blue murder when we told them they weren’t going home and that they would have to continue to the end. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">One was so incensed that he demanded we call his mother and that she would come down straight away and pick him up! (A four hour drive.) <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I said I thought she would want him to complete the program and he swore that I had no idea what his mother would want. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I replied, “I think I know more about your Mum than you give me credit for!”. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">When their anger finally subsided they had a change of heart and committed themselves to finishing the hike with a positive attitude. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKtMCfEQU25OxRIN4KOQXaFCVeki9vh4-q_RtIAyZymXcHkwCjFac5OMfmaArraUUWEiEU2jYhZJV-7jl5XrOqbOhPCklRnyHELc-2HaeCVWxXJP521GaQ216Bld_VKPMBIWI597DmNPg/s1211/53436306-B87B-44E1-AE81-7E7FC2BFAD71.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="855" data-original-width="1211" height="431" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKtMCfEQU25OxRIN4KOQXaFCVeki9vh4-q_RtIAyZymXcHkwCjFac5OMfmaArraUUWEiEU2jYhZJV-7jl5XrOqbOhPCklRnyHELc-2HaeCVWxXJP521GaQ216Bld_VKPMBIWI597DmNPg/w610-h431/53436306-B87B-44E1-AE81-7E7FC2BFAD71.jpeg" width="610" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p>Hiking and abseiling in the Stirling Ranges</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The second thing to happen came at my expense. After a tough hike through dense scrub to the top of one of the peaks in the Stirlings the boys all sat down on the rocks for a drink. For reasons I can’t really explain, I chose that moment for what was supposed to be a little joke. Taking a few jogging steps and uttering the fateful words, “I’ve carried this parachute long enough” I pretended I was going to jump off the rocks and go papa-gliding! Unfortunately I under-estimated how much momentum I would reach with a heavy backpack on a slippery slope and suddenly I was falling and tumbling down the hill crashing through the scrub and coming to a rest several metres down the hill. Laurie and Steve were just as stunned as the boys at this sudden turn of events. Sadly for me I broke my arm in the fall along with several cuts and bruises and a fat lip. The boys saw this as their ticket home, believing we wouldn’t be able to continue with me being injured. It was with a certain amount of macho pride that I told them we weren’t finished and that I would carry on with my arm in a splint and a sling. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I needed help getting my pack on and off but other than that was able to continue and we duly finished the trip two days later.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I did another WIP the following year, hiking and canoeing on the Blackwood River near Walpole. Thankfully there were no mishaps or pranks gone awry on this one.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQiy8hISnv0oq1OiAuIG9n0WrS2B8s3llfCEOAMDlyzVyJRRCi9hfn13_S0A_8kC236mUh8wQzLIfLsx_5aisEG_erqBLOvHbgT35jIyufIUFT_G4i_2euptOcalYDUgDrsbZxVH8Wq8/s748/21793898-74F9-4F06-AA3E-9156B57123B4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="508" data-original-width="748" height="429" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQiy8hISnv0oq1OiAuIG9n0WrS2B8s3llfCEOAMDlyzVyJRRCi9hfn13_S0A_8kC236mUh8wQzLIfLsx_5aisEG_erqBLOvHbgT35jIyufIUFT_G4i_2euptOcalYDUgDrsbZxVH8Wq8/w632-h429/21793898-74F9-4F06-AA3E-9156B57123B4.jpeg" width="632" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p>The WIP kids and staff at the end of the trip, me bearing the scars of my mishap.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">During the school holidays I often organised activities for the kids. The most ambitious was a 24 hour challenge that started with a bike ride around the Swan River from Perth to Fremantle and back followed by dinner at Sizzler, the much-loved and sadly missed buffet restaurant. After dinner we went to a movie before heading off to Zone 3 to play laser tag from midnight to 6am! Onto Macca’s for breakfast before delivering the tired but happy kids back to school (and going home to bed!).<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">One last memory/confession about my time at Carine. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">After one of our Grand Final victories in the Channel 7 Cup I took the footy team to Zone 3 for a 3 hour session ending at midnight. It was a very hot night and after I drove them back to school and parked the bus I felt like going for a swim in the school pool. The kids had all gone home and I had a key to the pool. It was after 1am and feeling daring I decided to become, what I felt fairly safe in saying, the only chaplain ever to go skinny dipping in their school pool! Remember those unintended consequences? There was no-one around, it was dark and late, it was safe surely? I stripped off and headed for the diving board when all of a sudden the floodlights came on! Unbeknownst to me there were trip light switches installed on the pool floodlights!!!! I quickly jumped in the pool and enjoyed a more modest cool off than planned!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">My years at Carine were wonderful, all the more so because of the fantastic staff I worked with and the friendships I made.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The support of the churches and the district council enabled me to do my job and Barb, the council chairperson was invaluable both professionally and personally.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFJyQpwKbyZDkCF6mTCuD4C6lQuQ3HiOfdvkq7ecaDBAacphks7M1jxnOWSUh0F5XHqLMnt4W53k7y8b7PmppKsT_nqJ4gYobijL65GrZ8-U2lIg_M2WPPW0EpTR7PIpxfHWeQ9wvSpOA/s1727/5E888AF1-FD8A-47A2-B022-AAE2BBE83D99.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1173" data-original-width="1727" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFJyQpwKbyZDkCF6mTCuD4C6lQuQ3HiOfdvkq7ecaDBAacphks7M1jxnOWSUh0F5XHqLMnt4W53k7y8b7PmppKsT_nqJ4gYobijL65GrZ8-U2lIg_M2WPPW0EpTR7PIpxfHWeQ9wvSpOA/w626-h425/5E888AF1-FD8A-47A2-B022-AAE2BBE83D99.jpeg" width="626" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> Taking Jim Selkirk abseiling off the top of Observation City on a staff PD Day.</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The school principal, Cesare Digiulio was outstanding and a great supporter of the chaplaincy. I loved to joke that I was the only chaplain who could legitimately serve both God <i>and</i> Cesare! I still ring him occasionally for a chat and he has provided glowing commendations for me as a referee.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The office staff were brilliant and helped me out countless times when I was trying to beat a deadline or get something organised/typed/distributed.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I worked closely with Chris the school psych and Gina the YEO on student services programs including running Drugs in Perspective for parents and we made a great team.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I always needed staff support to run the camps and never had any trouble getting teachers to help out. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The Year Coordinators were among my closest allies, people like Tony Williamson, Paul Moore, Rob Tozer, John Hackett and Mike Denby were great to work with. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I found my closest friends in the Phys Ed dept. Scott Underwood was my main supporter with the footy teams and we became mates, playing beach volleyball together. I credit Undie with introducing me to the joys of fantasy football. He was part of a comp at another school and I immediately said we had to get one started at Carine. It ran for many years and built a great camaraderie between us all. In turn, that led to me instigating the CFFL- Chaplain’s Fantasy Football League- with a bunch of footy-loving fellow chaplains. I will write more about the CFFL in a future chapter but suffice to say here it is still going strong nearly 20 years later.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">My closest mate at Carine was a larger-than-life character, Bruce Boelen, a phys edder and year coordinator. We did stacks of stuff together: abseiling instructing on the year 9 camp and outdoor ed, hiking and rafting camps on the Avon with SU, the year 10 and year 11 camps, the prefects camp, sport and student services programs. He’s a very funny man and we laughed so much when we worked together. Late nights on camps were memorable and because we had established so much trust he was very supportive of me and opened the floor for me to have an open forum around the campfire where kids could ask any questions they wanted in a safe and comfortable environment. After I moved to Busselton I often stayed at Bruce and Lisa’s place- in the Holt wing- when I came up to Perth, and I still enjoy catching up with him when I get over to WA. I was genuinely touched when he wrote on my farewell card, “What do you do when your best mate leaves?” I love Bruce, a truly great bloke.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">There were also hundreds of great kids I met and worked with over my 11 years at the school.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">John told me recently that he had run into a bunch of kids from the footy team at the pub a couple of nights before and they had asked after me and wanted to know how I was going. It was a huge privilege to serve the school in that capacity for over a decade and it was with a lot of sadness, and fabulous memories that I bid farewell to Carine in 2004.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Believe it or not, there is a lot more I could say about my time at Carine but I need to move on.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-61723821822530510882021-09-27T15:41:00.000+10:002021-09-27T15:41:03.497+10:0060 in 60 #24The Grand Final that cost me my job.<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">60 in 60 #24</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The Grand Final that cost me my job.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Last night Melbourne FC broke a 57 year drought and won the Grand Final for the first time since 1964.The final margin does not tell the story of what a great game it was. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">This is the story surrounding another Grand Final and the impact it had on my life, my family and my career. I have not told this story to many people because it involves a level of shame, humiliation and pain that I have not wanted to talk about openly. It’s been twelve years. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I think it’s time.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsEXBGZXnv0yMd5jjI_3x2-C3_SkGaL36HYFjze2QwOKfz7iw2B-NuDNh34G8-CziTEklmJ0qQmfjE6QH6G9Pkd0Kx88bKp8pjW8bwYR2L-baIRfg7OIL4GXCZVaJASdxQ6WvwLzXLpFQ/s2048/82111956-1043-4C6A-86E4-576EAD586E13_1_201_a.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsEXBGZXnv0yMd5jjI_3x2-C3_SkGaL36HYFjze2QwOKfz7iw2B-NuDNh34G8-CziTEklmJ0qQmfjE6QH6G9Pkd0Kx88bKp8pjW8bwYR2L-baIRfg7OIL4GXCZVaJASdxQ6WvwLzXLpFQ/w521-h391/82111956-1043-4C6A-86E4-576EAD586E13_1_201_a.heic" width="521" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Celebrating with Darlow </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The Grand Final in question was in 2009, between Geelong and St Kilda but the story starts a few years before that. It’s common knowledge that I love the Geelong footy club and have gone to extraordinary lengths at times in my support of the Cats. What many people don’t know is that I have had battles with my mental and physical health that have taken a significant toll on me and my family.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I have always been an emotional person. As a child Dad nicknamed me Chief Thundercloud due to the dark moods I would fall into at times. I remember my childhood as being happy, notwithstanding the impact of two significant ongoing circumstances. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">1. I was never popular, I was always the outsider, never fully accepted or embraced by my peers. I was picked on and excluded. The only thing that gave me a level of acceptance or street cred was sport, I was good at footy and so I suppose I drew a lot of my sense of self and worth from football. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">2. I have no memory of Mum and Dad’s marriage being happy or close. There was a level of peace and stability probably due to the societal expectation that people stayed together because of the children. It was the sixties, before the sexual and social revolutions. The nuclear family was the essential fundamental building block and there was still a lot of stigma over divorce. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Pop was not an open or demonstrative husband or father in those days. He would get into dark moods and retreat inside himself, sometimes going for days or weeks without talking or resolving problems. Like most men of his generation, work was his safe place and he took refuge in his job when home life or marriage were difficult. I think it is fair to say that I brought some of this unhelpful and unhealthy modelling into my marriage. I was prone to the same negative behaviours, did not handle conflict well, struggled to communicate without anger and retreated into extended periods of silence and disconnection. The fact that our marriage has lasted 35 years and is in good health now is largely due to Carolyn’s patience, forgiveness and grace. There have been many times when I’ve felt hopeless and defeated and have wanted to give up or escape. Carolyn has remained steadfast and faithful throughout and I am deeply grateful for that.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Like my father, I threw myself into my work and it became my strongest source of validation and worth. “I may not be a very good husband but I’m a good youthworker/chaplain” was the sort of self-talk that permeated my thinking and in reality, I was good at my job, I was able to achieve some great stuff in my work with teenagers. I loved my job and the people I worked with and for a long time that kept me going through my dark and difficult times.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I honestly don’t know if I was in denial or just a state of ignorance but at a certain point it finally dawned on me that maybe I had a mental health problem. It couldn’t be normal to have such fluctuations of mood, to sink to such depths of darkness and despair and to cause so much pain to my family. So I went to the Doctor and told him what was going on and how I was feeling. After listening to me he had two suggested diagnoses, low testosterone and depression. To be honest, both surprised me. I was only just beginning to understand depression. He described my extreme low moods as a symptom of depression and prescribed me with anti-depressants. He also ordered blood tests which did indeed confirm that I was very low in testosterone. I have always been sporty, energetic and very competitive so I had not expected that outcome. He prescribed testosterone injections and when those weren’t having the desired effect he put me on a program of slow release testosterone implants. These were inserted into my abdomen every three months in a minor surgical procedure.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The anti-depressants were not an instant fix but they did slowly start to have an effect and I began to be able to handle life a little better although it took a very long time to really feel better. I undertook some counselling as well to try and help me process what was going on but it was the involvement and support of my mate Laurie that was most significant in steering me towards safety and recovery.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">By now you’re probably wondering how all this connects to the 2009 Grand Final?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">More than I cared to admit at the time, one of the things that affected my mental health and happiness was the fortunes of the Cats. As I’ve written about in previous chapters, Geelong and their fans suffered years of frustration and disappointment before things finally changed courtesy of the 2007 premiership. I know exactly how many Melbourne fans are feeling right now because I shared the same experience of joy, relief, pride, celebration and ecstasy when the Cats finally won the flag. It helped my mental health but it didn’t heal it. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">In 2008 Geelong had a brilliant season, dominated the league and only lost two games for the year. Everyone expected them to win the premiership again but things went badly awry in the Grand Final and Hawthorn pulled off a shock win that rocked the football world and probably set back my healing in the process! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">It is a commonly held belief that the city of Geelong prospers or suffers in direct correlation to the fortunes of the football team, a belief borne out by statistical and economic analysis. Similarly, the sense of happiness and well-being of many footy fans is directly affected by whether their team won or lost on the weekend. I was absolutely prone to this phenomenon and the loss of a Grand Final I expected the Cats to win was devastating.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">By 2009 another team rose to challenge for the flag and threatened Geelong’s hunt for redemption: St Kilda. Week by week, the Cats and the Saints kept winning and it became clear that their scheduled meeting in round 14 would be not only an epic encounter, but likely a rehearsal for the Grand Final. The whole football world was looking forward to the game for weeks and as it turned out, by the time they met at Docklands both teams were undefeated, 13 wins and no losses, the only time two teams have gone so long into a season without losing a game. Like everyone else, I wanted to be there to see it.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Some more important background info to this story.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">In 2004 we moved down south and I got a job as chaplain at Busselton High School. In 2006 the Commonwealth Games were held in Melbourne and I organised a trip for eleven students to go to Melbourne for the games, along with my two youngest kids, Jordan and Paul. We stayed at Box Forest High School in Glenroy and went to a wide range of events over ten days. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Now, in 2009, with the big game approaching I hit on the idea of running a footy trip and taking a group from Busso to Melbourne. I asked Sophie to come with me to help run the trip. Fourteen kids signed up and I got busy organising everything, including staying at Box Forest again. The biggest challenge was securing tickets for the Geelong St Kilda game. On the morning they were released I frantically logged on to Ticketmaster and bought batches of tickets in groups of 4 or 5 as I knew it would be too hard to get 16 tickets all together. I was successful. My group of West Aussie kids had tickets for the game of the season. The trip itinerary included seven other games across two weekends of the school holidays with a stopover in Adelaide to see Fremantle play the Crows on the way home.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The trip was fantastic and the game lived up to all the hype and expectation. It was a cliff hanger, with Cameron Ling kicking a goal to level the score in the last minute, only to have it ruled out by a free kick to St Kilda and the Saints hung on to win by 6 points. It is often talked about as one of the best games in AFL history and certainly whetted people’s appetites for a rematch in the finals.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-t8ntMcTMinqa7mxJYG8IT0uVcSIX2ix4T80NU82-OiGfFG7kFV6Ppf7kJjJt62suSt3KxaQ42qm4b1zDtTG78ZATuCor9rhDyAxAy1LLGB-uN0Y4K9L7JduTTsfDIDQ2MQlu1UkwDvU/s1496/BE8FDB35-BF48-42E4-8048-6F8B63883614.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1122" data-original-width="1496" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-t8ntMcTMinqa7mxJYG8IT0uVcSIX2ix4T80NU82-OiGfFG7kFV6Ppf7kJjJt62suSt3KxaQ42qm4b1zDtTG78ZATuCor9rhDyAxAy1LLGB-uN0Y4K9L7JduTTsfDIDQ2MQlu1UkwDvU/w618-h464/BE8FDB35-BF48-42E4-8048-6F8B63883614.jpeg" width="618" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> Kids on the Footy trip from Busselton</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I will write more about my time in Busselton in a future chapter but suffice to say here that it wasn’t always interstate trips and having fun, there were many difficult and challenging events and stressful incidents. The most significant one being the aftermath of the second Bali bombing in 2005 in which one of our students was killed. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Earlier in 2009 I had applied for the job of area chaplain for south west WA. With sixteen years’ experience in the job and strong relationships with many of my colleagues throughout the SW area I believe I was very well-suited for the role. Unfortunately, YouthCare, the organisation that employs school chaplains in WA decided to employ someone else. I felt a huge disappointment not to get the job and this turned to frustration and even anger when the person they employed turned out to be very poorly suited to the position, having no related experience and poor people skills. That may sound uncharitable but the truth is the person quit the job less than a year later. I loved being a chaplain and I knew I was good at the job but my soul and spirit were bruised and the cumulative stress of years of caring for young people was taking a toll. Being rejected for a job I really wanted, and believed was perfect for me was crushing and I feel it led to a downturn in my mental health. It also affected my relationship with YouthCare which had always been extremely positive.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">As the footy season reached its climax I started making plans to try and go to the Grand Final if Geelong made it. In the Preliminary Finals Geelong thrashed Collingwood and St Kilda beat the Bulldogs, setting up the rematch that everyone expected and hoped to see in the Grand Final. The game was scheduled for the first Saturday of the September school holidays and I was lucky enough to score a ticket in the members’ ballot and booked a flight to Melbourne a couple of days before the game. That was the thing I did wrong. I should have applied for the time off first. Over the sixteen years I had worked as a chaplain I can’t count the number of extra hours and days I had worked above normal requirements. Every school holiday period I organised and ran events for students. I attended non-compulsory training events and chaplains’ retreats, in fact I had already organised to run a retreat for a group of chaplains in conjunction with my mate Cam in the second week of the holidays. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Forgive my immodesty but I doubt any chaplain in WA had worked longer hours or put in more time than I had over such a long period of time. I was diagnosed as depressed. I had low testosterone. I was tired. I needed a break and with my love of football, the best possible medicine I could have was the chance to go to the Grand Final and see my beloved Cats win the premiership.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I talked to my doctor and told him how tired and worn out I was and he happily wrote me a certificate for a couple of days off work for the end of the term.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSz8RAZXLGPDfnBqLIOOFYdUTZQ0fU1JNtmV2bT9d25re_LUXx5CswdXkZZaqc3f9Tkw69ToZNHpFvntFvvPKexOYiXd-5QYwU14UjboBXxhFKAnEQEUESGk2wf2Ha2wuciBWw0nKW_mc/s1240/BF927A50-6977-49B0-8D29-8A058D3A3FBB.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="698" data-original-width="1240" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSz8RAZXLGPDfnBqLIOOFYdUTZQ0fU1JNtmV2bT9d25re_LUXx5CswdXkZZaqc3f9Tkw69ToZNHpFvntFvvPKexOYiXd-5QYwU14UjboBXxhFKAnEQEUESGk2wf2Ha2wuciBWw0nKW_mc/w625-h352/BF927A50-6977-49B0-8D29-8A058D3A3FBB.jpeg" width="625" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> Geelong celebrating the victory over the Saints</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The game was another classic, a real arm wrestle that could have gone either way. It is best remembered for Matthew Scarlett's toe-poke to Gary Ablett which resulted in the winning goal by Paul Chapman late in the last quarter. Thankfully Geelong prevailed and I was able to celebrate the victory with my good mate Scott, a fellow Cats tragic. I was on a high and returned home to WA with my spirit lifted and some peace and joy restored. Cam and I ran a great retreat in Busselton for a dozen colleagues and I started back at work after the holidays with renewed energy and vision for the final term.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4Lh4K1KSvZCEAayyy0Zc4f6ubiR7Bjl9Q6HYStlcGKIXIWjT0_aoktKvV1v7s-YdCu5_TM5nLSJZo3tvXiWRpPf6Txv0njo8uY1merUrMuvchd_k_7-S7gSyg0aUJvyByKiHFlCukhU/s799/5602DBF2-A7B6-4E0A-9E63-A85BC42E8130.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="799" height="465" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4Lh4K1KSvZCEAayyy0Zc4f6ubiR7Bjl9Q6HYStlcGKIXIWjT0_aoktKvV1v7s-YdCu5_TM5nLSJZo3tvXiWRpPf6Txv0njo8uY1merUrMuvchd_k_7-S7gSyg0aUJvyByKiHFlCukhU/w620-h465/5602DBF2-A7B6-4E0A-9E63-A85BC42E8130.jpeg" width="620" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> With Cam at Kardinia Park</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Then I got a phone call which changed everything. YouthCare summoned me to Perth to explain why I had taken the last two days off work at the end of term three. I started to get a very bad feeling. I was in trouble. I went to the meeting and explained what had happened and my reasons but was not given much opportunity to elaborate on the combined set of circumstances that led up to it and that I have recounted here. I was informed that I had taken unauthorised leave and that the YouthCare executive would meet to discuss the situation and decide what action to take.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I returned to Busselton with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. The next week was a blur of angst and dread as I awaited my fate. The following Friday two representatives from YouthCare came to Busselton to meet with me and the school Principal where I was dismissed from my position as school chaplain. I was stunned and horrified. The Principal was equally shocked and assured me she did not support the decision but as I was employed by YouthCare there was nothing she could do to change their decision. I broke down, distraught and overwhelmed with grief, shame and humiliation. I acknowledge that I had done the wrong thing by taking time off without authorisation. In the strict letter of the law YouthCare was within their rights to dismiss me but they had other options, including to show mercy to someone with an exemplary record, or to issue a less harsh penalty.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">My sixteen years of loyal service seemed to count for nothing. I was not given a warning or offered any chance of rehabilitation. My physical and mental health issues were ignored or discounted. I was not offered any sort of support and given no chance of redemption. I was sacked on the spot and ordered to leave the school immediately. It was the worst day of my life and not surprisingly sent me into a spin with predictable impacts on my mental health. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">It was devastating for Carolyn and my family as well. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I was not part of a union that could advocate for me. I was not aware of any recourse I might have to appeal or to challenge what I and most others considered to be an unjust decision. A wonderful chapter of my life and career was brought to a sudden and inglorious end.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I told a small group of my closest friends what had happened and they were equally shocked and dismayed at the news but I have not told this story publicly before, and do so now, even after twelve years, with some hesitation.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">My chaplaincy is a distant memory now, so much has happened since then. We have moved to Victoria and started a new chapter of our lives. I have embarked on a whole new career. Our kids have grown up and become adults and parents in their own right. Carolyn and I are grandparents. Life is good, but this episode has left me with scars and hurts that have never fully healed. I made a mistake and paid dearly for it, as did my family.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I don’t regret going to the Grand Final. It was glorious to see the Cats win the flag but I regret the decisions made along the way that led to such painful consequences. I wish it had turned out differently but there is nothing I can do about it so I have learned to live with it. For a long time I could not even allow myself to think about it because it caused me so much pain and anguish. Writing about it now has been difficult. I hope it will be cathartic. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Writing 60 in 60 has been both enjoyable and challenging as I dig back into my past. Amongst the many wonderful memories are a few skeletons like this one that for a long time I have kept locked away. In the interests of honesty and authenticity I have decided to “bare all”, the good and the bad. This may affect your view of me. That’s fair enough. I have to live with my memories and my actions just as I live with their consequences. I ask only that whatever you may think, that you be kind.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">NB. Although I was no longer chaplain, my relationship with the school remained intact and they employed me on a contract basis to run some events for them, including continuing in my role as Country Week Manager.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">My mental health is much better now and it is many years since I have taken anti-depressants. I have learned better strategies to deal with conflict, particularly in our marriage. Through it all, Carolyn remained supportive and caring. Her love is my most precious possession and has covered a multitude of my sins.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-42461638319295217692021-09-15T22:45:00.000+10:002021-09-15T22:45:18.334+10:0060 in 60 #23 Carine Part Two<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">60 in 60 #23</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Carine Part Two</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv8zufIKIuZohMJwjonPe_gU2RTMwvGcwhaT4CVTWmSKvDuWL2nKhVBmWKEGGXgI-4JXf3BF80n7WP_Lw1ti6FyntJ0Ro1ybP7QXobQV-lpGWYThTkH_vNMAe1qrY8O0npBRMu29j8uGA/s812/E94C42E5-C348-40E1-B09B-73C033B2F889.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="418" data-original-width="812" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv8zufIKIuZohMJwjonPe_gU2RTMwvGcwhaT4CVTWmSKvDuWL2nKhVBmWKEGGXgI-4JXf3BF80n7WP_Lw1ti6FyntJ0Ro1ybP7QXobQV-lpGWYThTkH_vNMAe1qrY8O0npBRMu29j8uGA/w545-h281/E94C42E5-C348-40E1-B09B-73C033B2F889.jpeg" width="545" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The 1998 Carine SHS team</div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I started working at Carine SHS as the school’s inaugural chaplain in 1993 when I was 32 years old. It was strange to be back at my old school, especially considering the change in roles. I doubt any of my peers at school would have imagined me returning as a school chaplain.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I spent the first year getting to know as many people as possible, both staff and students and then working out where I could best fit into the school. The basic requirement was to represent the Christian faith and to provide support to the school community. After that I had a lot of freedom to shape my role so I looked for any gaps I might fill and any existing areas that I could assist with. Most people were supportive and welcoming and the students warmed to me quite quickly. I soon had a steady stream of visitors as kids came to talk to me about stuff that was happening in their lives, either at school or at home.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I visited lots of form groups to introduce myself and I developed an acrostic for the purpose where each letter in the word CHAPLAIN described a part of my role.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><b>C</b>hristian- a caring Christian presence, representing the local churches<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><b>H</b>elper- someone they could approach if they needed help in any way<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><b>A</b>vailable- kids could come and see me at any time if they needed to<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><b>P</b>ositive, proactive and prayerful<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><b>L</b>istener- I was a trustworthy, independent adult in the school ready to listen<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><b>A</b>ctive- I was involved in a wide range of activities within the school<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><b>I</b>n touch- with resources and people<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><b>N</b>ot a teacher- I was not part of the disciplinary, teaching or assessing elements of school.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">One of the first things I did was approach the Phys Ed dept and look for opportunities to get involved with school sports teams. There were two outcomes to that: there were plenty of I could coach or support, and I developed friendships with the PE teachers that still continue now, over 20 years later and long after I left Carine. I sat on the PE table for Friday recess when there were goodies to share and where Mr Willy told stories and handed out awards to people for stuff-ups and funny happenings. On the sports front I started coaching the junior football team in the Channel 7 Cup inter-school competition, the school soccer team, volleyball teams in one day round robin tournaments and even coached and umpired the cricket team.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I did my level one and level two coaching certificates in football and in 1997 we had the makings of a very good team in the Channel 7 Cup. The early rounds were played against other schools in the Claremont WAFL city zone and we won every game, putting us into the zone finals and a trip to the country to play the country winners. We won that game which put us into the last nine schools from around Western Australia. It was getting serious, especially as some games were played as curtain raisers before AFL games at Subiaco Oval or the WACA. Most of the remaining teams were from private schools such as Trinity, Mazenod and Hale.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We kept winning convincingly and reached the Grand Final against Aquinas College, a school known as a breeding ground for AFL footballers. The game was a curtain raiser before Fremantle played Geelong at Subi on Sunday 24 August but there was a problem, many of our players had to play a final in their local footy comp the same day. There were a lot of discussions and negotiations to try and avoid the clash but in the end both games went ahead as scheduled. With Geelong in town and me looking for any advantage I could find, I rang the hotel where the Cats were staying the day before the game and asked to speak to Garry Hocking, aka Buddha a true Geelong champion. They put me through to his room and after explaining who I was and the situation, Buddha spent about 15 minutes on the phone to me talking about his experience of playing in Grand Finals and then handed the phone over to footy larrikin John Barnes to give me his colourful opinion. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">We had won every game we played by an average of about 8 goals so I was pretty confident going into the game. Sadly my confidence was misplaced. Aquinas gave us an old-fashioned belting and we never looked like winning. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">It was a tough loss to take and when the soccer team also lost their Grand Final a couple of weeks later staff at school started stirring me about choking the way Geelong had in four losing Grand Finals between 1989-1995.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The following year we embarked on the same journey and followed a very similar path. By this time I had gotten to know the kids and many of their parents very well. Teams in the Channel 7 Cup were from years 8 & 9 and all of our best players were no longer eligible. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I had rated the 97 team very highly (it included <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_Nicoski">Mark Nicoski</a> who went on to play 112 games for West Coast) but we’d lost the GF and I confided to one of the Dad’s that I didn’t think we’d have as good a team this season. Again I was wrong, the team took all before them and won through to the Grand Final and again, our opponents were Aquinas. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The game was a curtain raiser before Fremantle played Adelaide at the WACA, under lights on a Friday night. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I really ramped up our preparation and convinced Cesare, the Principal, to let me take the team on an overnight camp a couple of days before the game to train and to do some team-building. As we drove into the campsite I stopped the bus at the bottom of the last hill and told the boys they’d have to push it the rest of the way. They were a bit half-hearted and not making much progress so I stopped the bus and got out and gave them a pep talk about needing to work together and give maximum effort, exactly what they would have to do to have a chance of beating Aquinas. It worked, they pushed the bus easily up the hill and into our campsite and the rest of the camp worked just the way I hoped it would. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">I had also arranged for Max Greive, a teacher who had played league football for East Perth but was dying of cancer to speak to the boys about giving everything for the cause.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Despite all of the preparation I was not optimistic, Aquinas had taught us a lesson the year before and I didn’t expect to win. I’m pleased to say I was wrong yet again, our boys turned it on from the first siren and by half time had a 6 goal lead! We went on to win comfortably and become the first Carine team to win a state-wide footy competition. I compiled footy books for each of the kids recounting the events of the season, complete with photos, newspaper clippings, team sheets and my game notes and the story of each game. Cesare wrote a testimonial congratulating the boys in which he said in all the years he had been Principal it was the best performance by any Carine team in any competition he’d ever seen. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Fast forward to 1999 and lo and behold, déjà vu, with another largely new team Carine played Aquinas in the Grand Final of the Channel 7 Cup for the third year in a row. I had another camp with the team in the lead-up and it worked because we became the first school to ever win the trophy two years in a row. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjssIUd39QsKRtYjIKqQPNWV-2lp8R9Wru3lkqzGWZvlmMDxE8rnKDUeUQhOUEukwSFYwXaNuI9jBLyaXlVmmHR-jfTOiyCWm44rJi09TByMqvKxWoqRyP46FZUfKvPl07Sgt6Grpd5uPY/s905/B831E372-799C-4562-AC2A-D1EC074A16F4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="905" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjssIUd39QsKRtYjIKqQPNWV-2lp8R9Wru3lkqzGWZvlmMDxE8rnKDUeUQhOUEukwSFYwXaNuI9jBLyaXlVmmHR-jfTOiyCWm44rJi09TByMqvKxWoqRyP46FZUfKvPl07Sgt6Grpd5uPY/w599-h410/B831E372-799C-4562-AC2A-D1EC074A16F4.jpeg" width="599" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><o:p>The winning team in 1999</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Following the success with the junior team I took on the job of coaching the senior team as well, playing in the Barry Cable division of the Smarter than Smoking Cup. Carine was one of only two government schools in the division. It was around this time that Gerard Neesham (former Fremantle Dockers’ coach) and Ben Allan (former Dockers’ captain) started a football program for Indigenous kids at Clontarf Aboriginal College. They had kids from all over WA and played footy with total freedom and flair and several Clontarf kids were recruited by WA clubs over the years. We played them in the home and away season and lost by over ten goals but we had a pretty good team none-the-less and qualified for the finals. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqLLBRgKP7Lr78z_7ngN7KHTbUNlEGwClE-KaNccBlwcbWWe9vvrqZ6OUTc5CLwTDFj69WeJvz2e0y4b8KhIzQRZam6Tcflqsv7Vi66hmjgO4ktPOKIgR9I9c5vcOobdLUli1K5G8OuI/s916/10A260F5-5A81-4683-94C0-C156A3C42166.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="916" height="435" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqLLBRgKP7Lr78z_7ngN7KHTbUNlEGwClE-KaNccBlwcbWWe9vvrqZ6OUTc5CLwTDFj69WeJvz2e0y4b8KhIzQRZam6Tcflqsv7Vi66hmjgO4ktPOKIgR9I9c5vcOobdLUli1K5G8OuI/w644-h435/10A260F5-5A81-4683-94C0-C156A3C42166.jpeg" width="644" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><o:p>Winning captain Dean Trewhella receiving the cup from John Worsfold</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">The preliminary final was an absolute thriller with one of our stars, Adam Jones kicking the winning goal in the last minute of the game. We faced Clontarf in the GF knowing that in the three years they’d been in the competition, they had never lost a game. In fact, they won the Cable Division STS Cup, the top schoolboy footy comp in WA every year for seven years, except one. That one loss was in 2002, to Carine! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">It was an incredible game. No-one gave us a chance and the boys themselves didn’t really believe they could win but I took them on another team-building camp and we trained hard and planned strategies and tactics in the hope of pulling off the upset. The kids played a fantastic game but it came down to the final minute again. We were a couple of points behind when our full forward, Peter Sinclair marked the ball on the 50m arc. One of my assistant coaches on the day asked me “Can he kick the goal?” I said, “Yes, he’ll take a horrible shaky looking run up and then kick it dead straight” and that’s exactly what he did to put us in front and win the game. Carine were the state champions. I was ecstatic and the kids, staff and parents celebrated wildly in the changerooms after the game. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">After that triumph I retired from coaching school footy at Carine to focus on other things I wanted to do.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">To be continued…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;">Note. 60 in 60 has turned out to be a bigger and more ambitious project than I anticipated. In my original plan I had one post set aside for my time at Carine, however the eleven years I spent there were the best years of my working life and although I’ve written two posts already I realise still have a lot more to say, therefore I will continue the Carine story in a third (and possibly a 4<sup>th</sup>!) post. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-66658727046599342132021-09-08T23:46:00.002+10:002021-09-09T18:36:49.476+10:0060 in 60 #22 The 2007 Grand Final<p> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif">60 in 60 #22</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">2007 Grand Final</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_BvfkfgpW2QjKBUcu3Wb5HDmUxYwWmMNUhYb-DLK0SaFFGEF4MrPhHjdL76iW8khnpc_24xCFnFntdCq16wm7XCUNpIgmlHk5Y1MUq6SBwNBTRuEomt46BN4UdKDM39MG4SwOAEw6Zw/s1023/0B40AEC6-E3D1-49DA-A84F-23C0A0C2BDFD.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1023" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_BvfkfgpW2QjKBUcu3Wb5HDmUxYwWmMNUhYb-DLK0SaFFGEF4MrPhHjdL76iW8khnpc_24xCFnFntdCq16wm7XCUNpIgmlHk5Y1MUq6SBwNBTRuEomt46BN4UdKDM39MG4SwOAEw6Zw/w666-h375/0B40AEC6-E3D1-49DA-A84F-23C0A0C2BDFD.jpeg" width="666" /></a> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I’m writing this a couple of days before Geelong play Melbourne in the AFL Preliminary Final, with the game being played in Perth because of Covid.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I have written about my love for Geelong- the Cats, previously but this chapter centres on the 2007 season and one game in particular, the Grand Final but it's about a lot more than just football, it's a story of hope and faith and little miracles.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The way the 2007 season started gave no hint of how it would end. Geelong lost 3 of their first 5 games including an embarrassing defeat at home to North Melbourne. That proved to be a line in the sand moment. Steve Johnson came back after a club-imposed 6 week suspension. Some key players including Paul Chapman declared they were fed up with mediocrity and demanded improved effort and performance from the team. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Then it happened! The next week Geelong thrashed Richmond by 157 points, the first of 14 consecutive wins that took the Cats to the top of the ladder and become clear premiership favourites. It was a wild and exciting ride as the Cats took all before them and players like Gary Ablett, Jimmy Bartel, Steve Johnson, Paul Chapman, Joel Corey, Corey Enright and Matthew Scarlett stamped themselves as superstars. Geelong only lost one more game for the season, at home to Port Adelaide in a thriller, before finishing on top of the ladder.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">We were living in Busselton and as the season progressed and the very real possibility of Geelong winning the flag emerged I applied for some overdue long service leave and planned a trip to Victoria with Carolyn, Jordan and Paul to coincide with the AFL finals.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">They flew to Queensland to stay with Dad for the first few days while I went to Melbourne and the first final versus North Melbourne. Any nerves I felt were quickly dealt with as the Cats thumped the Kangaroos by 106 points. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I flew up to Queensland to join the family and spend a couple of weeks with Dad. We all went down to the Gold Coast for a few of days to visit the theme parks (mainly for my benefit! I love roller coasters). Our day at Adventure World got off to a rocky start when Dad dropped us off then drove off with our tickets which I had left in the car! We managed to sort it out and had a good day.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Prior to the preliminary final against Collingwood I was supposed to enter the members ballot for Grand Final tickets but in the confusion and stress of securing prelim final tickets I missed the deadline! Considering that the crowd for the PF was seven hundred higher than the Grand Final it was just as well I managed to get the tickets we needed for Carolyn, Paul and I. Jordy doesn’t like football (!) so he didn’t need a ticket. The game was played on a Friday night at the MCG in front of 98,000 people and it was one of the most intense, exciting and nerve-wracking games I’ve ever been to. Collingwood played very well and Geelong lacked the killer instinct they had shown for the bulk of the season. The Magpies hit the front in the third quarter and I began to feel sick!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Half way through the last quarter there was less than a goal the difference and I turned to Paulie, who was 9 at the time and said “We might not win mate”. He looked me straight in the eye and said with complete calmness, “We’re gonna win Dad”. I started to reply, “But Collingwood are playing really well…” when he cut me off and said with even greater conviction, “We’re gonna win Dad”. I don’t know where his confidence came from but when Gary Ablett kicked the winning goal with a few minutes to go his prophecy came true! The flood of relief as the siren sounded was even greater than the jubilation. The Cats were in the Grand Final for the first time since 1995. Their opponents were Port Adelaide, the last team to beat them.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">On the off-chance that you don’t know the sad history of Geelong, they played in four Grand Finals in six years, 1989, 1992, 1994 & 1995 and lost them all. It was a heart-breaking and gut wrenching period and like most Geelong fans, I felt like I would never see the Cats win the premiership in my lifetime. Around this time Guru Bob on the Coodabeen Champions radio show came out with this gem, “Some people are destined to never experience peace, joy and fulfillment in life, for these people God created the Geelong Football Club”. I knew exactly what he meant.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I had been to the 1980 GF with Gary when Richmond beat Collingwood, and was lucky enough to score a ticket to the 2005 GF when Sydney beat West Coast in a low-scoring thriller best remembered for Leo Barry’s game-saving mark in the final minute. Now we had made the Grand Final but I didn’t have a ticket! They are notoriously hard to get. Between the MCC members, AFL members and the thousands sold as corporate packages, only about 20,000 are available to each team’s members and I had missed the ballot anyway.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">We were staying at Gary and Christine’s place for the week and I spent all my spare time hunting for a ticket online, on ebay, on footy websites, in the paper, anywhere I could think of. I made contact with a bloke on the web who said he had a ticket available and we made an arrangement to meet at Flinders Street station at 12.00 the next day. I withdrew $500 which I understood to be the asking price (face value of tickets ranged from $180-350).<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I waited at the station for an hour but the guy never turned up!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">On the Friday before the game we went into the city to watch the Grand Final parade and as we were standing in Federation Square a voice said “Hello Marcus”. I turned around and saw a family from Busselton, the Smokers, who we knew through church connections. They had bought Grand Final packages earlier in the season when it looked like their team, West Coast, might make the Grand Final and had flown over from Perth the day before. Helen asked if I had a ticket and I said no, I was still trying to get one.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I got up early on Saturday morning, headed in to the MCG and joined the group of sign-wielding people wandering around the ground looking for tickets. I wasn’t having any luck so I decided to try plan B. I struck up a conversation with a young bloke selling the Footy Record near Jolimont station and quizzed him about how he got in to the ground. He told me he didn’t need a pass or anything because he had the Footy Record jacket and could get in to restock when he needed to. Then he told me he had a spare jacket in the car! I didn’t know whether it would work but I negotiated with him that I’d give him $200 for the jacket if I hadn’t gotten a ticket before the game started. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">About half an hour later my phone rang. It was Helen Smoker calling. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“Marcus, have you got a ticket yet?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“No”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“Well, I’ve got one for you !”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“You’re joking” I gasped!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“I wouldn’t joke about something this serious Marcus. Meet us at Gate 1 at 12.00 o’clock and it’s yours”.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I couldn’t believe it! I rang Carolyn and said “I’ve got a ticket” then I started to cry! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I met Murray and Helen at Gate One at noon. It turned out that another lady from Bunbury who was on the trip with them had woken up that morning covered in a rash. At breakfast she happened to sit with the Smokers and told them she wasn’t well enough to go the game and did they know anybody who needed a ticket? They did! And that’s when Helen had phoned me. When I asked them how much she wanted for it they said, “nothing, we told her about you, what you do (school chaplain) and how much you love Geelong and she was happy to give it to you”. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I was stunned, elated, relieved, thankful and speechless! They told me I would be sitting next to the lady’s daughter who was also on the trip and that I could thank her myself.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I hung around outside the G for the next hour soaking in the atmosphere, watching the various radio teams’ outside broadcasts, spotting AFL players and celebrities and psyching myself up for the game. At about 1.00 o’clock I went back to gate one and lined up to go in. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt57tKCTaah2HYed3bxgKLF0rVTDud3Q-sPuDMpkPJZ2Q_pH-3xStLQdbZtSeXWpMpUJnChc5jbtuz9SjnvvaA5u38ZQlLK0BXOMgbyD_bjQ1VDyFent72N9XljPf2jFf1ZTPAULVYEqY/s2016/183F537A-F7D0-4F90-B672-CAD8267B0515.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="437" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt57tKCTaah2HYed3bxgKLF0rVTDud3Q-sPuDMpkPJZ2Q_pH-3xStLQdbZtSeXWpMpUJnChc5jbtuz9SjnvvaA5u38ZQlLK0BXOMgbyD_bjQ1VDyFent72N9XljPf2jFf1ZTPAULVYEqY/w583-h437/183F537A-F7D0-4F90-B672-CAD8267B0515.jpeg" width="583" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">My favourite footy commentator and fellow Cats fan, Gerard Whately</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Then something even more miraculous happened. As I went to go through the turnstile the light on top was already green before I had even scanned my barcode! I hesitantly pushed against the bar and it turned. I was in and I hadn’t even needed a ticket to get through the gate! </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I couldn’t believe it. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">My immediate thought was that I still had a valid ticket and that would enable me to get someone else in. But first, I had to secure my own re-entry to the ground. I set off to find a helpful Geelong fan in the crowd. I approached a young couple in the standing room section behind the goal and explained what had happened. The girl looked at me in astonishment and said<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“You were meant to be here!”. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I asked if I could borrow one of their tickets to use as a pass-out so I could go and find someone to give a ticket to and they happily agreed.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I duly scanned back out of the stadium and went looking for a suitable recipient.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I found an old bloke with a Cats scarf and asked if he wanted a ticket. To my surprise he said he’d just been given one by someone coming out of a corporate tent who didn’t want to go the game but he wasn’t sure if it was legitimate. I said let’s go and see if it works and if it doesn’t you can have this one. I stood back from the gate and watched as he entered. My heart skipped a beat when the attendant held up a hand and stopped him at the turnstile but laughed when it turned out he had a bottle of alcohol in his coat pocket and wasn’t permitted to bring it in! Once that was dealt with he was safely into the ground.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I resumed my search and soon found a teenage boy holding a “ticket wanted” sign. I told him I could get him in, it wouldn’t be a seat but at least he would get to go to the Grand Final”. He checked with his Mum if that was OK. She asked how much I wanted for it and I said “Nothing’. As this transaction was occurring a voice said “Hi Marcus” and it was yet another familiar face from Busselton, a young bloke called Josh who knew my daughter. The surprises kept coming. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I took the boy back to the gate, gave him the ticket I had borrowed and he was able to enter the ground. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Then as I went to enter with my original ticket I was refused entry! My heart sank!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The attendant said I had come to the wrong gate and I needed to go in through gate 5 at the other end of the ground! Relieved, I headed off to find the right gate. As I set off I reflected that if I had looked at the ticket closely I'd have realised what gate I should go in. Because the rendezvous was at gate one I had just presumed that's where I would be entering. Therefore, if I hadn't tried to enter that gate the first time I wouldn't have experienced the green light "miracle" or been able to get someone else into the game.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">You’ve probably had the experience of being in a crowded room where lots of conversations are happening and you hear someone say your name and it stands out clearly through the chatter. As I was walking through the crowd outside the MCG I clearly heard someone say,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“Then Marcus Holt gave him a ticket”. I didn’t see who it was or stop to investigate but it was an other-worldly sort of experience.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Finally I entered the ground through the right gate and found my way to my seat on level 4, between the wing and the half forward flank. I sat down next to a lady called Dianne, the daughter of my benefactor. I thanked her profusely for her Mum’s kindness and asked if I could give her some money for the ticket. She politely declined my offer. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I said, “I’ve got a thousand dollars in my pocket and you are welcome to have it all” but she insisted that they didn’t want any money for it and that they were glad I was able to come to the game. Again I was speechless with gratitude.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The game was perfect. After a close first quarter Geelong got on top and never looked like losing. At the 10 minute mark of the second quarter I knew that Geelong were going to be premiers, my worries disappeared and I was able to celebrate every kick, mark and goal as the Cats stormed to a record-breaking 119 point victory in the Grand Final. The people around me were all on the trip from WA and instead of being disappointed that the Eagles hadn’t made it, they told me they loved watching me enjoy the game and seeing my team win the premiership for the first time in 44 years. It was a brilliant day in a multitude of ways. When you’re a neutral fan you like a close and exciting Grand Final but when you’ve waited your whole life, and endured so many disappointments, there’s nothing better than winning the flag comfortably and being able to relax and celebrate all the way through the game.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">After it was all over I thanked Dianne again and swapped phone numbers with her.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">When we returned home to WA a few weeks later I asked my Mum to make a special Teddy Bear with a Geelong jumper and a West Coast scarf. I called Dianne and <o:p></o:p>arranged to visit her and meet her Mum to thank her personally. I gave her the Teddy Bear and we relived the stories of Grand Final day. She had recovered from the rash by the following day.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">At the end of my visit she said, “I’m so glad I got sick that day”!!!!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I stayed in touch with Dianne for the next couple of years and was sad when she told me one day that her Mum had passed away.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">NB. Geelong's 2007 season is probably the most successful in AFL history. As well as winning the AFL Grand Final by a record margin, they won the VFL flag, Jimmy Bartel won the Brownlow Medal,Steve Johnson won the Norm Smith medal and nine players were selected in the All-Australian team, a feat that has never been equalled.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-92177212169361911642021-08-31T00:21:00.000+10:002021-08-31T00:21:09.100+10:0060 in 60 #21 Paul<p> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">60 in 60 #21</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Paul</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinE2f6efZhBXSWep3-EThMR_7deMw7TruzU7bzJjfyxzHxcEC_cSuPN1QJG-Qw5KD_XO0BRFOFkEMgMcmCnKuJl9l_7qie6-YPLNuaS4A0j1Ok7ioBMczhvY4vSymMskW0qeiOWR7SUJs/s960/F242F14F-8397-452C-8CDC-95C9B1FC5C57.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="540" height="729" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinE2f6efZhBXSWep3-EThMR_7deMw7TruzU7bzJjfyxzHxcEC_cSuPN1QJG-Qw5KD_XO0BRFOFkEMgMcmCnKuJl9l_7qie6-YPLNuaS4A0j1Ok7ioBMczhvY4vSymMskW0qeiOWR7SUJs/w410-h729/F242F14F-8397-452C-8CDC-95C9B1FC5C57.jpeg" width="410" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQg35J-Nn9eefKvoRUA1B7-ib8m2OzyXPS5XKBnq10c3o8OW9CCfSv2BVhJw8uyIzRh6QZAIL2B-MRSVZ4W7KDTQMGAgKs3Tg1Mnbaisz6WfTdG8FYxivJtxZtyeYPnBmOeUmWdpNjSbM/s786/09FF7740-5E51-4942-AAB7-106A31E98478.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="786" data-original-width="509" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQg35J-Nn9eefKvoRUA1B7-ib8m2OzyXPS5XKBnq10c3o8OW9CCfSv2BVhJw8uyIzRh6QZAIL2B-MRSVZ4W7KDTQMGAgKs3Tg1Mnbaisz6WfTdG8FYxivJtxZtyeYPnBmOeUmWdpNjSbM/w322-h498/09FF7740-5E51-4942-AAB7-106A31E98478.jpeg" width="322" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Graham in the poolroom</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLZ2l4XQHv2OjqB7SjI7zj6CyBfYDLEEc240wrj9Vh0DdzZLTZnhottbW-gZnVA-0igM0sdCGfHTDi5NORJnPn7oNfTQdfS_UAt3tdhIHyLKr6Z2MFTGnOeXnlK0lPqtCebk62UpAuFw/s759/F25B62E8-9F5D-4CEE-87A0-4CDDD70B349F.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="759" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLZ2l4XQHv2OjqB7SjI7zj6CyBfYDLEEc240wrj9Vh0DdzZLTZnhottbW-gZnVA-0igM0sdCGfHTDi5NORJnPn7oNfTQdfS_UAt3tdhIHyLKr6Z2MFTGnOeXnlK0lPqtCebk62UpAuFw/w512-h365/F25B62E8-9F5D-4CEE-87A0-4CDDD70B349F.jpeg" width="512" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Graham and that cowboy hat, in London, not long before I left for America in 1984</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p>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. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">We moved into a new hostel together and started playing pool at the pub most nights.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr2g3wCPrKiED_nMDxJasikiiUWsmC_y_XxFnmh-Hshvj8LVl69bkK39nKLmN09AZw2myH1gfOcAJn0KhMNr8A8nf0xv7bRuIjpkgtthFuefS8GP_IF2bUZ1ZbRSdWaYPOsjAFhLkk1WY/s2048/5377B6A7-11A1-4FE0-A8B2-E44771B7AEC6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr2g3wCPrKiED_nMDxJasikiiUWsmC_y_XxFnmh-Hshvj8LVl69bkK39nKLmN09AZw2myH1gfOcAJn0KhMNr8A8nf0xv7bRuIjpkgtthFuefS8GP_IF2bUZ1ZbRSdWaYPOsjAFhLkk1WY/w562-h422/5377B6A7-11A1-4FE0-A8B2-E44771B7AEC6.jpeg" width="562" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Paul when we met in Cairns in 1980.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Sometime later he returned home to the States and we started writing to each other.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg5cvyNwb-d3ljnqFJzxMWxU3C6OYiaYFiHRtxngtjHL940d3PDWEgteylIbl053WfgXms8VgoXfrmKvUVVO0ShP5BII04z0JANp30eUa3rn1nOLPfLhAHGH3uxsr0pi8_vo8bmSav6Po/s521/51EE6D13-D599-4470-B7F9-CADF76A8A6CF.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="521" data-original-width="477" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg5cvyNwb-d3ljnqFJzxMWxU3C6OYiaYFiHRtxngtjHL940d3PDWEgteylIbl053WfgXms8VgoXfrmKvUVVO0ShP5BII04z0JANp30eUa3rn1nOLPfLhAHGH3uxsr0pi8_vo8bmSav6Po/w483-h528/51EE6D13-D599-4470-B7F9-CADF76A8A6CF.jpeg" width="483" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdhRBeht5LKjAXqm4InqQIzr3cT2cLywr_h716E7k3cfnPbsU-ZW52e2G-icSgPFE0gJDTbwFmvGsHS1n3dBuc9J_wT55mSUQFhNeOygOGwvN5d1kPQTXucbXm-T3RTg4ZeIbHLS1hWx4/s674/858A9011-BA0B-42AD-9E56-3D45F8E9BFF5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="674" data-original-width="531" height="622" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdhRBeht5LKjAXqm4InqQIzr3cT2cLywr_h716E7k3cfnPbsU-ZW52e2G-icSgPFE0gJDTbwFmvGsHS1n3dBuc9J_wT55mSUQFhNeOygOGwvN5d1kPQTXucbXm-T3RTg4ZeIbHLS1hWx4/w490-h622/858A9011-BA0B-42AD-9E56-3D45F8E9BFF5.jpeg" width="490" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">About to leave for our trip to the Redwoods, 1984</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"> 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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqxui8gZgZq3vHdQxaL4s2muMc4WpMPsCHvAu5VgR56n1VNr9p6N4jVLeM-H6HESKXtkKe9HJxEGnP13EnDGwpOEP4qFulgHm7BPNbaUiASB0vNyFm9EvvUTLgcR24Lb6HR1qUGFku4M/s589/7A0AAAE3-6E2D-4FA4-8138-FEA3063E5631.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="589" data-original-width="414" height="690" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqxui8gZgZq3vHdQxaL4s2muMc4WpMPsCHvAu5VgR56n1VNr9p6N4jVLeM-H6HESKXtkKe9HJxEGnP13EnDGwpOEP4qFulgHm7BPNbaUiASB0vNyFm9EvvUTLgcR24Lb6HR1qUGFku4M/w485-h690/7A0AAAE3-6E2D-4FA4-8138-FEA3063E5631.jpeg" width="485" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The day of the Rattlesnake hike</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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, <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“You’re real nice Paul, just as I expected you would be.” <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtV0icV-fa0n_G-6U-6SUJP0en6fxMY-K6B0j773NGsYYAb_Ktak0RygBBJLMMe4WSAz_NNqUEvA7A5mvOHKvfosZlY3TLI_de5eXxUB1x6LKaRnCnfOvAxSSbvEEBstTuRosFqBIUFB4/s438/E3EB6FDB-78AB-4653-BF23-37535930E6AA_4_5005_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="295" data-original-width="438" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtV0icV-fa0n_G-6U-6SUJP0en6fxMY-K6B0j773NGsYYAb_Ktak0RygBBJLMMe4WSAz_NNqUEvA7A5mvOHKvfosZlY3TLI_de5eXxUB1x6LKaRnCnfOvAxSSbvEEBstTuRosFqBIUFB4/w578-h390/E3EB6FDB-78AB-4653-BF23-37535930E6AA_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="578" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Climbing the Gloucester Tree at Pemberton</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“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.” <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim9V9hS6GqEVXBoDL9LDeYKAwyOidbPueCI1yOQLL-F525KjJtynwbIz5WH3u0bCBq4T1fcT2KshnIDkKLVQ9sL6zyLdbyR3wj7YhNhgNNPBogk1ayQjbIUv8i4gamNypzKtm-bY4IP8g/s1210/66CA1C33-AA6D-4B9C-8BF7-2A25E8FAF206.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1210" data-original-width="886" height="725" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim9V9hS6GqEVXBoDL9LDeYKAwyOidbPueCI1yOQLL-F525KjJtynwbIz5WH3u0bCBq4T1fcT2KshnIDkKLVQ9sL6zyLdbyR3wj7YhNhgNNPBogk1ayQjbIUv8i4gamNypzKtm-bY4IP8g/w530-h725/66CA1C33-AA6D-4B9C-8BF7-2A25E8FAF206.jpeg" width="530" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">With Broady on our way to the Stirling Ranges</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">We have a bond that is unbreakable. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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!”. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbEx-8z1dsS0IbkMLSDmqrQoEQkyv3vYfL4zqAAXDE_87i4XIkrSotOw2dMeNc_ONGZ5hBNfTvqBF5gPILIYSG8xAhJ30UhdxWP5bx8-pJlvIg1c2VTXF4QiwTu73qL7gtCCheDwVBuss/s2048/82AF9F61-F2D6-4D38-B98F-13F3B1130FEA.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="435" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbEx-8z1dsS0IbkMLSDmqrQoEQkyv3vYfL4zqAAXDE_87i4XIkrSotOw2dMeNc_ONGZ5hBNfTvqBF5gPILIYSG8xAhJ30UhdxWP5bx8-pJlvIg1c2VTXF4QiwTu73qL7gtCCheDwVBuss/w580-h435/82AF9F61-F2D6-4D38-B98F-13F3B1130FEA.jpeg" width="580" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">My first picture for Paul, Hawaii, 2014</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xAn1jdjcrT7EieRS27th67iBLG16En9NCyBE-WBYQrDzCDYIsy_mjTcujX40any899-56TCYNwk3gnKh_uv4zy-PwPsBPA_Ugxa1M6dDcvPMEZRdVHTmnZviMDiHX5aPq1qE026Vvd0/s627/5FD1C9FB-6EB8-4F08-8C72-2E9AA861052A.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="470" height="643" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xAn1jdjcrT7EieRS27th67iBLG16En9NCyBE-WBYQrDzCDYIsy_mjTcujX40any899-56TCYNwk3gnKh_uv4zy-PwPsBPA_Ugxa1M6dDcvPMEZRdVHTmnZviMDiHX5aPq1qE026Vvd0/w482-h643/5FD1C9FB-6EB8-4F08-8C72-2E9AA861052A.jpeg" width="482" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM1DmRvYKj8cCrgJx5VeSsGWbyrzy0vzCxNLf_3vPxkSbMffJ5mGRN9p1rp_FvQeiditI-8P52GrXxq1JZM8YuURrrDwQMiION6dxHju9iFo7YpxG8uSlecQlp-sXv8rFSZf7TDkJFyPQ/s627/515352C5-3DAD-4ED4-88E6-1AED77AAC712.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="470" height="617" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM1DmRvYKj8cCrgJx5VeSsGWbyrzy0vzCxNLf_3vPxkSbMffJ5mGRN9p1rp_FvQeiditI-8P52GrXxq1JZM8YuURrrDwQMiION6dxHju9iFo7YpxG8uSlecQlp-sXv8rFSZf7TDkJFyPQ/w463-h617/515352C5-3DAD-4ED4-88E6-1AED77AAC712.jpeg" width="463" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZW1iMZEoXoiBrGPulg8EpaK6nc9PEwDVT8pTwDapylve58RlgL59KHFBWl7wWIq5UTFYdRXXeuGtT2LZ9XWxi7ASYJw7XaDFYF1wAsHDcYzyjTbw_mG_1T3BN6jx1TfK9qI47EzYaiOs/s836/30AFE6A0-6234-4115-A882-FC918BACDF0A.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="836" height="457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZW1iMZEoXoiBrGPulg8EpaK6nc9PEwDVT8pTwDapylve58RlgL59KHFBWl7wWIq5UTFYdRXXeuGtT2LZ9XWxi7ASYJw7XaDFYF1wAsHDcYzyjTbw_mG_1T3BN6jx1TfK9qI47EzYaiOs/w609-h457/30AFE6A0-6234-4115-A882-FC918BACDF0A.jpeg" width="609" /></a> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Carolyn, glowing in Hawaii<br /><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCSeTFGl_CphYKLYm_E1Ux5zsXPKJBaJvdNux4-khmfJNv3M6MRfob20B7butMzRqEhWV9GED72LKkwDXGeQVoG8NF7Cu6pqsi_P3gSRmSCNWvQ4YCeQ8jKS9uqpF8GVjSFoj1Jxg-TiY/s830/3E9DD873-495F-40B8-B53B-ED8796C3C945.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="622" data-original-width="830" height="441" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCSeTFGl_CphYKLYm_E1Ux5zsXPKJBaJvdNux4-khmfJNv3M6MRfob20B7butMzRqEhWV9GED72LKkwDXGeQVoG8NF7Cu6pqsi_P3gSRmSCNWvQ4YCeQ8jKS9uqpF8GVjSFoj1Jxg-TiY/w588-h441/3E9DD873-495F-40B8-B53B-ED8796C3C945.jpeg" width="588" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">My second picture for Paul & Vicki, Hawaii 2016</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDlwchRd7XY_dGRYvy_l8FyHQ14xluGpfZKAXkA1DdhY5qRHnMJF02Za9HmciZR8dx4XjfqR59lnLW60CmOxgwAJ5qUZzFeRDMfYhFwPfnnjDwpM6n6xxBpwmn9aniMoV9HJFHMfZPnck/s830/4A89B929-8F7E-4E10-9B5E-76B79DC69269.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="622" data-original-width="830" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDlwchRd7XY_dGRYvy_l8FyHQ14xluGpfZKAXkA1DdhY5qRHnMJF02Za9HmciZR8dx4XjfqR59lnLW60CmOxgwAJ5qUZzFeRDMfYhFwPfnnjDwpM6n6xxBpwmn9aniMoV9HJFHMfZPnck/w608-h456/4A89B929-8F7E-4E10-9B5E-76B79DC69269.jpeg" width="608" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The Robinson Lunch </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGcsKOUFI8Btqr6x_C2bs7V10NQiHd4OPr3od9ohN-U4RWzUJIkQjT288NkmYtkSqjfCojqCpXzvGpVN2Z2xCYl61spg7ndPABGWWaRERDEgnanchKcWG_R8M99RaHN7VcREGi9hUrj2Y/s836/8DC1D2E8-870E-4ACC-AD4D-4E7DAFF6A59E.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="836" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGcsKOUFI8Btqr6x_C2bs7V10NQiHd4OPr3od9ohN-U4RWzUJIkQjT288NkmYtkSqjfCojqCpXzvGpVN2Z2xCYl61spg7ndPABGWWaRERDEgnanchKcWG_R8M99RaHN7VcREGi9hUrj2Y/w592-h444/8DC1D2E8-870E-4ACC-AD4D-4E7DAFF6A59E.jpeg" width="592" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Carolyn and Vicki</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin8goEXOBG4iUvSrfojscEKvvyo3i6R0RTHaDgae4Oe69G62z8TDM2h6V-u0qsihPg8aIboSNgX8AcQ58Zv-XYgh0f9rU0TEsWyuVJyR1O5PxHIFjaMxtB4aV_wWrfZ4KfpH_C0Yr_Lns/s871/2142FF83-BD9C-4C98-B9A2-6943B6F987E6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="653" data-original-width="871" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin8goEXOBG4iUvSrfojscEKvvyo3i6R0RTHaDgae4Oe69G62z8TDM2h6V-u0qsihPg8aIboSNgX8AcQ58Zv-XYgh0f9rU0TEsWyuVJyR1O5PxHIFjaMxtB4aV_wWrfZ4KfpH_C0Yr_Lns/w533-h400/2142FF83-BD9C-4C98-B9A2-6943B6F987E6.jpeg" width="533" /></a></p>With Pop<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">In the meantime we email and facetime, swap pics and stories and keep up to date with one another’s lives. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I started by saying it was a series of small and unrelated incidents that led me to this point.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">If I hadn’t hitched a ride with Peter and changed my plans from Toowoomba to Cairns…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">If I hadn’t decided to continue on to Cairns for a weekend…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">If I hadn’t stayed an extra day to take a trip to the Atherton Tablelands…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">If I hadn’t turned around at exactly the right moment when my mate Graham walked past…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">If I hadn’t stayed on in Cairns instead of heading off the next day as intended…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I wouldn’t have met my best friend!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Thanks mate, I love you and I can’t wait until the next chapter in our friendship unfolds.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Your brother Marcus.<o:p></o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-19367649554046620882021-08-25T01:26:00.006+10:002021-08-25T01:30:39.410+10:0060 in 60 #20 Fusion<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">60 in 60 #20 Fusion <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7kGn8ac4uNpxcX4p4VMfP9LcL4mLJjW_gSjIyQbe7qC3IP-QO3cNVOqp0CXcoH6en4WakGvdqYOhMwiy2szMCMMDf56ie33aDQcvTQ5fUcIfj-JXJGjYE4oDJ5AYUpF5JyOEUnDPPh0w/s512/A5998231-9C89-4999-A27C-41001BA626EA_4_5005_c.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="512" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7kGn8ac4uNpxcX4p4VMfP9LcL4mLJjW_gSjIyQbe7qC3IP-QO3cNVOqp0CXcoH6en4WakGvdqYOhMwiy2szMCMMDf56ie33aDQcvTQ5fUcIfj-JXJGjYE4oDJ5AYUpF5JyOEUnDPPh0w/s320/A5998231-9C89-4999-A27C-41001BA626EA_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The next sliding doors moment was a result of curiosity. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I was attracted to their way of working which was based on making genuine connections and relationship building and was keen to get involved. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I had also found out that Fusion ran a six-month course offering a diploma of youthwork at their training centre in Sale, Victoria.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">A plan and a timeline began to take shape in my mind and I put the idea to Carolyn.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">We set off for Queensland with our toddler snuggled in amongst all the luggage. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj878ETUwLa3Qxj7L8WmBh0NsLOonuI8e_c-3t7Lctccnp5hyphenhyphenwfiYc_qQWg0rE9JLgxKH_GicN1f5E1BMmUeTxlTRHC8s_MDAzIvw7o2baEHrmzx6CaNFKSQsbKrgboLns2RrtiAUcUqKE/s963/26EC9B53-90BF-4081-9453-7A1CD682F99D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="963" height="379" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj878ETUwLa3Qxj7L8WmBh0NsLOonuI8e_c-3t7Lctccnp5hyphenhyphenwfiYc_qQWg0rE9JLgxKH_GicN1f5E1BMmUeTxlTRHC8s_MDAzIvw7o2baEHrmzx6CaNFKSQsbKrgboLns2RrtiAUcUqKE/w595-h379/26EC9B53-90BF-4081-9453-7A1CD682F99D.jpeg" width="595" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUjQxyuuzEWSyXd7iYJzXiFtxpNnGO6eB5FDm_9F87GCu2BjStVUY7CB1xhw-jlpozdvDJ-_rD0mhOg8XO3Ij5G-imaofaIDeKcblzMp4bPl5k8eTbaZmHyEyd-XwLL5dmhcogdgKtKNw/s400/C2AF1C7C-CD36-4232-BC10-5E48C4C8C3BC.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="392" height="489" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUjQxyuuzEWSyXd7iYJzXiFtxpNnGO6eB5FDm_9F87GCu2BjStVUY7CB1xhw-jlpozdvDJ-_rD0mhOg8XO3Ij5G-imaofaIDeKcblzMp4bPl5k8eTbaZmHyEyd-XwLL5dmhcogdgKtKNw/w480-h489/C2AF1C7C-CD36-4232-BC10-5E48C4C8C3BC.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><o:p><br /></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzWYF3gKFT0LEiDBNaA4DwJbyqYB8BMRDMmhRtSRxqvGEsyAaXXURgwB2EzWNVdtyf8DBeOwSW7jYLjb9aME2orGuaCBEaBWNp-RtoxCEVziAktu7zh0WnlBfYQg6kAWYgNPXJd9Jk0uI/s1080/83A64C21-A4F0-483E-82CB-2AB7C7DCFAF4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzWYF3gKFT0LEiDBNaA4DwJbyqYB8BMRDMmhRtSRxqvGEsyAaXXURgwB2EzWNVdtyf8DBeOwSW7jYLjb9aME2orGuaCBEaBWNp-RtoxCEVziAktu7zh0WnlBfYQg6kAWYgNPXJd9Jk0uI/w557-h418/83A64C21-A4F0-483E-82CB-2AB7C7DCFAF4.jpeg" width="557" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Legendary friends Noel and Steph Kara</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4c1H-sVssL0ml8SWHBM-RzWeApz92lSf6ciYJLXOifkEgjXEZtpwoQPu_igRnT1FUI488jKKrHnqECNBLfGz_YIYivMXXoLs-0nqRfJdrO2mblD4xvooRgRnFJ7Dpitv8hNt6ZBwcw3E/s1051/DC7B3887-D8BA-4A36-9E66-FEB4E7E60E2B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="1051" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4c1H-sVssL0ml8SWHBM-RzWeApz92lSf6ciYJLXOifkEgjXEZtpwoQPu_igRnT1FUI488jKKrHnqECNBLfGz_YIYivMXXoLs-0nqRfJdrO2mblD4xvooRgRnFJ7Dpitv8hNt6ZBwcw3E/w555-h416/DC7B3887-D8BA-4A36-9E66-FEB4E7E60E2B.jpeg" width="555" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Down South Gospel friends Stu and Deb Robinson</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvV9Vy67QRz2r3gIk4WDsqHXojCEkqYRtqpU2cToHoH6MQbl0w_K4hiPDGGRMHqnG3qs7IN17lOwkfU_PbYHg0VUXoQqav273VfpTt_RLNc3-HNluCaJf-_-bQ7LTwb6IA0AtyJZEZaN0/s1094/EEC0A439-5F0F-49E3-9E21-4EFE71D26F32.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1094" height="419" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvV9Vy67QRz2r3gIk4WDsqHXojCEkqYRtqpU2cToHoH6MQbl0w_K4hiPDGGRMHqnG3qs7IN17lOwkfU_PbYHg0VUXoQqav273VfpTt_RLNc3-HNluCaJf-_-bQ7LTwb6IA0AtyJZEZaN0/w558-h419/EEC0A439-5F0F-49E3-9E21-4EFE71D26F32.jpeg" width="558" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Toni and Sophie, with Arrow below.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6aO3Yi7I3z6aZttGqvXddLLn3ltM_qTDKLxxqW73y7HAhhYvr7Xwpm5HK4X7PmIjQz2Mxo_RMCalowC44pQhWoNAZIu8TCz8EzEU7dS4z-j8RJM9F5G7p1x7Kx6SBZyd153EW8EZL2k/s1055/74EC4E7B-2801-40B9-A872-E2A6CCB5A7C9.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="1055" height="417" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6aO3Yi7I3z6aZttGqvXddLLn3ltM_qTDKLxxqW73y7HAhhYvr7Xwpm5HK4X7PmIjQz2Mxo_RMCalowC44pQhWoNAZIu8TCz8EzEU7dS4z-j8RJM9F5G7p1x7Kx6SBZyd153EW8EZL2k/w558-h417/74EC4E7B-2801-40B9-A872-E2A6CCB5A7C9.jpeg" width="558" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFXrvLt7l3_6z3405qE-sCqfyyurlh8lAgYqQN-UQjvO-u3gqb2XKF5YEi0duKLUttQ1PPSvhL1hKtDFBb4Ky1eT-tdjqS1sdYlEaVcMTR3jWlcgdEtoZeQqKTasBLPZQBPt4G-mfF78/s939/993CDB89-4D00-4985-8831-BD08DFA9D82A.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="669" data-original-width="939" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFXrvLt7l3_6z3405qE-sCqfyyurlh8lAgYqQN-UQjvO-u3gqb2XKF5YEi0duKLUttQ1PPSvhL1hKtDFBb4Ky1eT-tdjqS1sdYlEaVcMTR3jWlcgdEtoZeQqKTasBLPZQBPt4G-mfF78/w584-h416/993CDB89-4D00-4985-8831-BD08DFA9D82A.jpeg" width="584" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Our cohort at Fusion, 1988. Carolyn pregnant with Sophie with Martin behind and Bruce in the middle</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSimqvvt3RNmUYmiiS7Uaa57kM32RGMYDm83gbBICYp6W4r2MT0SQei8h-SeSelMXPyPfvBNTo78MK7tezp2B4XE6Y16fyrksB5RxadbO6Aj0dIZt1vx1cW8wCXJIxJkit6G_D7ahmRvk/s1253/DAF281E9-465B-4EEF-9098-149CCCD01CB9.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1253" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSimqvvt3RNmUYmiiS7Uaa57kM32RGMYDm83gbBICYp6W4r2MT0SQei8h-SeSelMXPyPfvBNTo78MK7tezp2B4XE6Y16fyrksB5RxadbO6Aj0dIZt1vx1cW8wCXJIxJkit6G_D7ahmRvk/w579-h378/DAF281E9-465B-4EEF-9098-149CCCD01CB9.jpeg" width="579" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">In the schoolhouse, Dave next to Carolyn at the back.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"> 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! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg24I4DdVtztxROLXUJjeFDawn1wKRL3k0ac34Qd1WcWibzLGHxlSTeziDuMY8pGU9JDuDzpKf5NeitrHAffxOSuIwUSWLbFoxsXHW5zk-_k_yRmsXpzgt7lSHUhK4RIlr-HBDfllT8iMg/s400/02933388-F2B3-4B9B-9BB7-12947CFAB835_4_5005_c.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="323" data-original-width="400" height="457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg24I4DdVtztxROLXUJjeFDawn1wKRL3k0ac34Qd1WcWibzLGHxlSTeziDuMY8pGU9JDuDzpKf5NeitrHAffxOSuIwUSWLbFoxsXHW5zk-_k_yRmsXpzgt7lSHUhK4RIlr-HBDfllT8iMg/w566-h457/02933388-F2B3-4B9B-9BB7-12947CFAB835_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="566" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Kilmany Park, the original estate. The small building in the foreground was the schoolhouse.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">What Kilmany looked like during our time there. I believe it is now a Reception Venue.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="http://angustrumble.blogspot.com/2008/12/kilmany-park_24.html" target="_blank">Some of the history of Kilmany</a><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQKBtwfbcCBzFW7-FE-aKRO1FMNSnedFr7T3g2sXcnLod3Z6zM5A-22_xC6pG7qTxuOXYrpUD5LaFzU77unlrau-oHP0iCo2Uyjmhli73tYw45rxKbxDfwVasEv_gRs_QEALOnMI59_-A/s280/215AEABF-99D7-4E17-A5EA-033F84919ECC_4_5005_c.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="210" data-original-width="280" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQKBtwfbcCBzFW7-FE-aKRO1FMNSnedFr7T3g2sXcnLod3Z6zM5A-22_xC6pG7qTxuOXYrpUD5LaFzU77unlrau-oHP0iCo2Uyjmhli73tYw45rxKbxDfwVasEv_gRs_QEALOnMI59_-A/w566-h425/215AEABF-99D7-4E17-A5EA-033F84919ECC_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="566" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77EFnGUCSpd7Z_9QvqgE4fNl36egSMHSTbBJiSK_E3_RmqL1fCiyiK6FXo2aZV6BbmlslJ4iDzZbT_KbY2RVz7t5kKfzidMFd1ju4hjBkLH4gkR50cIs1HDJGt7kdAccBj0J-TlNMpJI/s1094/A43062AE-5E9A-46B9-B926-EFDA88841A8C.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1094" height="423" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77EFnGUCSpd7Z_9QvqgE4fNl36egSMHSTbBJiSK_E3_RmqL1fCiyiK6FXo2aZV6BbmlslJ4iDzZbT_KbY2RVz7t5kKfzidMFd1ju4hjBkLH4gkR50cIs1HDJGt7kdAccBj0J-TlNMpJI/w564-h423/A43062AE-5E9A-46B9-B926-EFDA88841A8C.jpeg" width="564" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Our last visit to see Auntie Ev and Uncle Ken, a couple of months before she died</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRolRiILY7MiiurVB2ehQXGdlDtkS3OsCyiXh8-TlguS7uCDoUlOrzyVcTRPjRhexyW5y2v9PYHH6n-C7iKhm1NsiGh0wx0WH3ELLdhli7Psa5HpJVsGKYLZ8NDn_7WqOblEtIauUZ0Kg/s1080/F05BCAE7-2C77-4C64-9AE8-3FB6BC9294BC.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="437" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRolRiILY7MiiurVB2ehQXGdlDtkS3OsCyiXh8-TlguS7uCDoUlOrzyVcTRPjRhexyW5y2v9PYHH6n-C7iKhm1NsiGh0wx0WH3ELLdhli7Psa5HpJVsGKYLZ8NDn_7WqOblEtIauUZ0Kg/w582-h437/F05BCAE7-2C77-4C64-9AE8-3FB6BC9294BC.jpeg" width="582" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Rose and Andy Braun and two of their three daughters, on a visit to Ocean Grove.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Two further opportunities opened up via the Fusion/youthwork network. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0swUeY8muxZq5g6Gggwcp_1Tc2qET8jlVvXZ__gqJeXiQsQIIPA0cnE1dRVoUT1fVCfv3kBnXQG1zTghju0_yNBShERiN2tadLZFr3APkie1odGvAKnpTZjk5XBOeEfR1j9oriMmJhec/s1080/BB2C16E8-6D2D-42FB-8CFC-9754CCCF76B0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0swUeY8muxZq5g6Gggwcp_1Tc2qET8jlVvXZ__gqJeXiQsQIIPA0cnE1dRVoUT1fVCfv3kBnXQG1zTghju0_yNBShERiN2tadLZFr3APkie1odGvAKnpTZjk5XBOeEfR1j9oriMmJhec/w544-h408/BB2C16E8-6D2D-42FB-8CFC-9754CCCF76B0.jpeg" width="544" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Laurie and Sonia Haynes, the first time we'd seen them since they sailed their yacht around the world!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3_Pv2FbsC6blbrROr_nszIa-wv-oD4YbpyIFk4Sbg8WLnRHsfM8C-lXzQJlH4l410tWT_mA-QrabsrMluCGqg36hya4tD4Dl1jBHlEhDSLDiFhZQEjLsJtKgOYLNoGIAz3XRzTkh_-Wc/s1080/4DB0BDFC-6BB2-4986-9D6D-D73FA9449116.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3_Pv2FbsC6blbrROr_nszIa-wv-oD4YbpyIFk4Sbg8WLnRHsfM8C-lXzQJlH4l410tWT_mA-QrabsrMluCGqg36hya4tD4Dl1jBHlEhDSLDiFhZQEjLsJtKgOYLNoGIAz3XRzTkh_-Wc/w544-h408/4DB0BDFC-6BB2-4986-9D6D-D73FA9449116.jpeg" width="544" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">At the Asian Cup with Travis and Beau.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-6434492033045219632021-08-15T02:59:00.001+10:002021-08-15T02:59:33.426+10:00 60 in 60 #19 Carine Part One. <p> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">60 in 60 #19</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Carine Part One.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.thewest.com.au/publication/B881596154Z/1593605337522_GPQ2QL0LI.1-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="450" src="https://images.thewest.com.au/publication/B881596154Z/1593605337522_GPQ2QL0LI.1-1.jpg" width="800" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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?’”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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, <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“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”.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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”.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The next day they called me and asked if I would conduct the funeral service.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRdF7WvOchtwOrSIhGP900ghEqya-GVVRjlNZ9-kFTgvIPozyDK2JyWeRbjMIqt2qju7OE2RcSZk4gM1UA6APdxyQpkqoGEHZxev-w3Ijzfb_6DszWbgv6vX_HHe33Eiy3yLkjTkVP5I/s905/B831E372-799C-4562-AC2A-D1EC074A16F4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="905" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRdF7WvOchtwOrSIhGP900ghEqya-GVVRjlNZ9-kFTgvIPozyDK2JyWeRbjMIqt2qju7OE2RcSZk4gM1UA6APdxyQpkqoGEHZxev-w3Ijzfb_6DszWbgv6vX_HHe33Eiy3yLkjTkVP5I/w640-h438/B831E372-799C-4562-AC2A-D1EC074A16F4.jpeg" width="640" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggFir2IaIjlqEzVeaPOL5CuQQgWs-aypg0A8kfRCTFGe0hS0UfuuIk8ATqIwLJe66VPr5aZgClVjJDF7HrvzGrC7AqLnwMhBNqSHsNTFrqBFHG6OvbF7UkcfE7w0Z-ZRkUbNxYGOOxG1g/s916/10A260F5-5A81-4683-94C0-C156A3C42166.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="916" height="429" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggFir2IaIjlqEzVeaPOL5CuQQgWs-aypg0A8kfRCTFGe0hS0UfuuIk8ATqIwLJe66VPr5aZgClVjJDF7HrvzGrC7AqLnwMhBNqSHsNTFrqBFHG6OvbF7UkcfE7w0Z-ZRkUbNxYGOOxG1g/w636-h429/10A260F5-5A81-4683-94C0-C156A3C42166.jpeg" width="636" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-68871190112633241162021-08-09T23:48:00.002+10:002021-08-10T07:16:52.400+10:00<p> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif">60 in 60 #18</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Sally</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dUlSLCbFRmLhaKf9qqiTWAguPWPdqTssLQ_LtU_DHovHtGR9JasNCs0divWXe-Q-pHG7CN1HirhJ-XBScZCkm1c3aFWZRU6KV-kQ6sEkTiyrIntJYSDxhdO2BkHTDRQAky286QtUXU0/s2048/3471D025-08DF-44BF-BABB-82608138A05A.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dUlSLCbFRmLhaKf9qqiTWAguPWPdqTssLQ_LtU_DHovHtGR9JasNCs0divWXe-Q-pHG7CN1HirhJ-XBScZCkm1c3aFWZRU6KV-kQ6sEkTiyrIntJYSDxhdO2BkHTDRQAky286QtUXU0/w477-h358/3471D025-08DF-44BF-BABB-82608138A05A.jpeg" width="477" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0sYooGfeT-rItBHG6WPutiIPu2-J-XSzTQfsqYqhIPuCJJsZXQtN98Rtk_gtS5dAb9MAASNmi9rYTTwYIu_rRm8ryZTQs_eYbCZjgEREIgwIFpE812i-YoKrKw_Y8jG_3_NCMeNfARo4/s1266/3DE360B8-5D01-4F26-AB37-D44C6B1D3E0B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="1266" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0sYooGfeT-rItBHG6WPutiIPu2-J-XSzTQfsqYqhIPuCJJsZXQtN98Rtk_gtS5dAb9MAASNmi9rYTTwYIu_rRm8ryZTQs_eYbCZjgEREIgwIFpE812i-YoKrKw_Y8jG_3_NCMeNfARo4/w552-h252/3DE360B8-5D01-4F26-AB37-D44C6B1D3E0B.jpeg" width="552" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Warren and Sally</div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I am an opportunist by nature. I love a bargain. I love op shops and garage sales and I’m a hawk-eye if there’s a hard rubbish collection in the neighbourhood. I also love camping. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">A strange combination of characteristics with which to introduce this chapter perhaps, but allow me to explain. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I did my last two years of high school at Carine SHS in the northern suburbs of Perth and I can say without equivocation that they were the best two years of my school life. Carine was my fifth high school and I had never made good friends or properly fitted in before I went to Carine. Connecting with people, being accepted and having good friends made all the difference.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I was a good English student (I later won the English and Public Speaking prizes at the end of year 12) and because of this I was nominated to go on a Creative Writing and Drama camp for good English students from schools around the state. I jumped at the chance. The camp was held at St Catherine’s College at UWA during the school holidays. About fifty Yr 10-12 students gathered from schools all over Western Australia and we spent a wonderful week doing creative stuff, writing stories, plays and poetry, going to plays and performances, playing games and hanging out. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">One of the campers was a girl called Sally who lived at Coomberdale and went to Central Midlands High School in Moora. We hit it off and decided to stay in touch after the camp. This all happened in 1979, long before the internet or mobile phones so we wrote letters. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">As it happened, Sally was getting braces and this meant regular trips to the dentist in Midland on a Saturday morning. On these occasions I would go out to Midland and meet up with after her appointments. I guess her Mum went shopping while we hung out and talked for an hour or two before she returned home. As our friendship grew I said I’d like to come up to the family farm to visit her and so, one weekend I set off hitch-hiking to Moora, about 170km from Perth. I think her parents were a little surprised at how I got there but they made me welcome and Sally and I had a great weekend. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I did this a couple of times, however the second trip was not quite as successful. I’ll come to the reason for that in a moment. By then I had my licence so we borrowed one of the farm utes and drove to the coast for a swim, somewhere near Cervantes I think. On the way back Sally was peeling an orange. Being a believer in organic littering I suggested she throw the peel out the window. Unfortunately Sal didn’t look as she threw it out and showered an unsuspecting farmer standing at a gate with a handful of orange peel. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Back at the farm we took the beach buggy her Dad Ian had made (out of an old VW Beetle I think) out for a drive around the paddocks. I found a large dip and discovered if I hit it at enough speed we could get airborne as we raced up the other side. Needless to say this was great fun, until a particularly heavy landing resulted in the beach buggy suddenly not responding. I couldn’t get it out of second gear in fact so I suspect I had damaged the gearbox. I had certainly broken something! We returned the buggy to the shed and hoped it wouldn’t cause too much trouble! It did! Sally’s Dad was not impressed and I headed home with my tail between my legs.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Thankfully it didn’t curtail our friendship which grew even closer the following year when Sal moved to Perth to attend WAIT (West Australian Institute of Technology) at Bentley (now rebadged as Curtin University) to study teaching. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">She lived at Rotary House, a dormitory accommodation building just off campus and my visits were much easier and occurred more often. It was while studying at WAIT that Sally met an engineering student named Warren, the man she married a few years later. To clarify, my friendship with Sal was always platonic and I’m glad for that. I had a few girlfriends throughout my adolescence and invariably, and inevitably, those relationships were short-lived and final. My friendship with Sally on the other hand has been going for over forty years and I cherish it as one of the closest and most significant in my life. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I can’t explain why we are such good friends. We aren’t particularly alike and don’t have a lot in common (she’s not the slightest bit interested in football for instance) but we have always gotten along really well. We both loved going to the movies and I remember the day we went to see The China Syndrome. Sal had told me she had to go somewhere after the film so time was a little tight. Late in the film there was a scene with a clock on the wall and I nudged Sal and said, “Look at the time, we’ve got to go”. She jumped up in a mini panic before realising it was in the movie not real life. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">During my time living in London our letter writing increased and I always looked forward to hearing from her about events back in WA. When she graduated Sally taught English at Merredin for a couple of years before moving back to Perth.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Once we both got married, her to Warren and me to Carolyn, we remained friends and became close as couples and young adults. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I had the honour of MCing their wedding and Warren even wore my suit for the occasion. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">As MC I took the opportunity of the special event to seek to heal a long-standing rift. One of my duties was to propose a toast to the parents of the bride and groom so before the toast to Sal’s parents I made a public apology and sought her Dad’s forgiveness for breaking the beach buggy all those years before. He graciously forgave me and I felt a weight lifted off me but the best part was when more than one of the guests, family friends and neighbours from local farms, came and spoke to me afterwards and said, “So you’re the one who busted the beach buggy!”. My reputation had preceded me! I was glad I’d confessed and apologised, and more importantly, been forgiven. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1jtGg7drAnF7n7p_uWlxLBj10p7S4ouCpuJEkE4iQUJpnhCSVZv4koU9JUuVIJ2iPAmQhk-HxzaxHLn1glMmT0oGdJxS5T2ZD_Vi-feJNb7YsUIu-Oa0uuZ8wC9vsZPutrRCQy00fpo/s1526/D519C219-12B0-4F91-8A13-C00532F399A3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1168" data-original-width="1526" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1jtGg7drAnF7n7p_uWlxLBj10p7S4ouCpuJEkE4iQUJpnhCSVZv4koU9JUuVIJ2iPAmQhk-HxzaxHLn1glMmT0oGdJxS5T2ZD_Vi-feJNb7YsUIu-Oa0uuZ8wC9vsZPutrRCQy00fpo/w617-h472/D519C219-12B0-4F91-8A13-C00532F399A3.jpeg" width="617" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Sally’s teaching career blossomed and the appreciation and love she received, and continues to receive, from students, parents and colleagues is testament to the time, effort and sheer hard work she puts into her job. Sally loves the kids she teaches and has a huge heart of compassion for them.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">For a period of six years in the early 90s I directed RYLA (Rotary Youth Leadership Award) seminars, an annual leadership training program for young adults and one year I was rapt to have Sally on the team as one of my facilitators. Around this time I began working as a school chaplain and on more than one occasion I called on Sal’s help with some program I was running. She was with me the day we took a group of year 9 students bridge swinging and had the police come and ask us what we were doing following a call from a passing motorist that there were kids bungee jumping off the bridge on Leach Hwy. I assured them we were only swinging, not bungee jumping and we carried on! If you’re not sure what bridge swinging is, check out this video on youtube. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uu6PAYMCX3Y" style="color: #954f72;">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uu6PAYMCX3Y</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Sally is a lot more cautious (sensible?) than I am but she bravely jumped, er, swung, off the bridge for a huge adrenalin rush. When I was heavily involved in youthwork and chaplaincy I was always running camps or programs of one sort or another. I remember talking with Sal one day and the subject of workaholism came up. I said “I’m not a workaholic”. She replied. “Of course you’re a workaholic Marcus, you just don’t think it’s work”.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6a_lG5Lm7EGsUZ4BSkpJccxkqmfFYefPoUel0ERkc9N-qGSB0TisdiT1q9FzVE0VOeNkxyGs7zQO-TKKRPnJlRnn1mHpiODPHSp-msvRGf7cS3a1ylkFUsmzmyLo9MVDLMsNTq3cir3M/s400/5C5A88C4-8F2E-4BE5-857F-268A48CBB489_4_5005_c.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="318" height="741" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6a_lG5Lm7EGsUZ4BSkpJccxkqmfFYefPoUel0ERkc9N-qGSB0TisdiT1q9FzVE0VOeNkxyGs7zQO-TKKRPnJlRnn1mHpiODPHSp-msvRGf7cS3a1ylkFUsmzmyLo9MVDLMsNTq3cir3M/w588-h741/5C5A88C4-8F2E-4BE5-857F-268A48CBB489_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="588" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The old red phone booth I swapped with Sally for a dentist's chair! It is still in pieces in their backyard awaiting reassembly! Come on Warren!!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">When we were raising a young family we would sometimes drop in on Sally and Warren on our way home from church. I remember Warren saying one day as we were leaving, “Thanks for bringing the contraceptives (children) for a visit!”. Despite that they eventually they did have a child, a son Callum, who has grown up and followed in his Dad’s footstep as an engineer. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">When we were living in Busselton, and in later years now that we’ve moved back to Victoria, my visits to Perth always included a stay at Chatteau d’Taffrail (Sally and Warren’s place in Willetton). Nowadays Sal and I talk about teaching while Warren and I go swap meeting on Sunday mornings. I look for footy badges while he looks for antique fishing reels. We’ve enjoyed the couple of times they’ve been over to Melbourne including going to the ANZAC Day footy at the MCG to watch Warren’s Magpies play Essendon.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7LJSzrvUTt9tOAz2D_sotgbgyLFwePEaa0IgMVRIA846TNgsRoLUrhUwUGpxrqWoN66egFFkw9bjc7QWuP00EB1eCQ6kwanbIN51BPdSD2jF8oXHJKPUGQ2_f8BS924Bein9eG_r4hVI/s2048/64BCF72F-D4E3-4EC6-A867-67A634C85958.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="461" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7LJSzrvUTt9tOAz2D_sotgbgyLFwePEaa0IgMVRIA846TNgsRoLUrhUwUGpxrqWoN66egFFkw9bjc7QWuP00EB1eCQ6kwanbIN51BPdSD2jF8oXHJKPUGQ2_f8BS924Bein9eG_r4hVI/w615-h461/64BCF72F-D4E3-4EC6-A867-67A634C85958.jpeg" width="615" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p>On one of their trips to Melbourne. </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I mentioned opportunism at the start. If I hadn’t taken the opportunity to go to that inter-school camp way back in 1979 I would never have met Sally and would have missed out on knowing and loving one of my dearest friends. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-25849968438183092282021-07-30T00:18:00.067+10:002021-07-30T08:38:00.988+10:0060 in 60 #17 Hitch-Hiking<p> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif">60 in 60 #17</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Hitch-hiking</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkBoPsGUsTg2jNBvMS2zgaDOwgcGow1laub-H4kw6ain3-yXu-Vw1fD0pY_v_PR60uZPrpO_nQD-QtjrGvpJnOaMIlwHSwlR93vhQngiXHU2penTkb3SwQd77XXqeWUdnzZh7kfv6u2t4/s1440/9BB31EE4-CF48-4018-ACE6-3DADFFBFF4CE.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1440" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkBoPsGUsTg2jNBvMS2zgaDOwgcGow1laub-H4kw6ain3-yXu-Vw1fD0pY_v_PR60uZPrpO_nQD-QtjrGvpJnOaMIlwHSwlR93vhQngiXHU2penTkb3SwQd77XXqeWUdnzZh7kfv6u2t4/w498-h311/9BB31EE4-CF48-4018-ACE6-3DADFFBFF4CE.jpeg" width="498" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The turn-off outside Port Augusta heading west.</div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I grew up in the sixties and was a teenager in the seventies. Hitch-hiking was common, accepted, safe and a cheap way to get around. The first time I remember doing it was on Sunday afternoons from Moolap to go and watch Geelong West play in the old VFA. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">When we moved to Western Australia I regularly hitch-hiked along West Coast Highway to get to and from the beach at Scarborough or to my mate Graham’s place in Duncraig. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">He had a pool table so many Friday and Saturday nights were spent in the pool room with Rod Stewart or Status Quo on the stereo and him smoking rollies. We were both East Perth supporters so Saturday arvos meant going to the footy to watch the Royals play in the WAFL. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I got my licence on my 17<sup>th</sup> birthday, my first car was a 1964 Wolseley 24/80 bought for $100 which became our mode of transport but before that I still depended on thumbing lifts. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I discovered that people were far more likely to pick me up if they felt sorry for me and the best way to garner that sympathy was to carry a 5L petrol tin, creating the impression that I had run out of petrol and was trying to get to a servo. While this invariably worked I then had to decide whether to continue with the ruse or to reveal that it was just a tactic. Sometimes it seemed better to carry on the pretence but a couple of times I admitted the truth. I remember one bloke laughing and saying it certainly worked on him.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I finished school in 1979 and after a brief but failed attempt to go to uni I got a job in a menswear store in the Hay St Mall, followed by a job as a storeman. Sometime around mid 1980 I decided to go travelling and so began my long distance hitch-hiking adventures. I headed out to the Great Eastern Highway at Midland and stuck out my thumb with the goal of getting to Melbourne, 3,400 kilometres away on the other side of the country, with the Nullarbor in between. My first ride took me to Northam. The next one to Merredin. The third one was with a guy going to Kalgoorlie and the fourth one got me to Norseman which is the last "town" of any size before leaping off into the desert. Over the years I spent many hours waiting for a ride from Norseman. I knew that anyone heading east from there was going a long way, almost certainly to Adelaide or beyond so I knew I would be ignored by most, evaluated by some and eventually picked up by someone willing to offer a ride and share their car for the next couple of days! It was a big ask but I always got a lift, having hitched back and forth across the Nullarbor about eight times. It’s a bloody long way, it’s straight most of the way, it’s hot and dry and dull so sometimes people were glad of a bit of company to relieve the boredom. There is a roadhouse at the T junction in Norseman so there was somewhere to get a drink or some food or go to the dunny during the long waits.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I found that some things either helped or hindered me from getting rides. I always looked drivers in the eyes as they approached and never wore sunnies, sure that they were assessing me and trusted me more if they could see my eyes. Similarly I wore clean clothes and kept myself looking neat and tidy, nobody wants to spend two days in a car with someone they think smells bad. I usually found a suitable spot and stood facing the oncoming cars rather than walking with my back to the traffic. I never gesticulated or abused anyone if they didn’t stop for me, and occasionally someone who didn’t pull up immediately would stop a hundred metres down the road and wait for me. Many times drivers said “I don’t usually pick up hitch-hikers”, inferring that they had made an exception for me. I’m certain my strategies had a lot to do with that.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">People often asked if I got many lifts with truckies. The reality is I almost never got picked up by truck drivers. The only time I can remember was with a young bloke delivering a truck, minus the trailer, from Adelaide to Perth. I spent a day and a half with him, he was a decent bloke, but by the time we got to Merredin I’d have gladly gotten out and walked the last 400km, I had been bounced and shaken around so much that my whole body was aching. Truck seats are built for drivers not passengers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Another time a bloke picked me up at the bottom of Greenmount hill and took me all the way to the Kalgoorlie turn-off in a hotted up Monaro. He really cranked it most of the way and actually blew the speedo up with the needle sitting on 150. He seemed unconcerned which amazed me because he had told me it wasn’t his car, he was just delivering it to someone in Kal! I always wondered what the new owner thought when he saw the busted speedo. Another time I got picked by a bloke in a Mustang who asked me if I had a licence and would I mind driving some of the way? Is the Pope Catholic?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">There’s a counterpoint to Norseman when you’re hitching west; just out of Port Augusta at the Whyalla turn-off where the Eyre Highway leads west. I’ve spent many hours waiting at that turn-off, including one uncomfortable night sleeping on the side of the road and rousing myself to get up whenever a vehicle approached. It was invariably stinking hot and there was no roadhouse to offer any sort of relief. I added my name to the many others graffitied on the sign saying it was 443km to Ceduna, the last town of any size in South Australia before heading into the Nullarbor.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I was fortunate that in all of my hitched journeys across Australia I had an oasis in the form of my sister Vicki’s farm at Wudinna. It always provided a welcome sojourn and some respite from the heat and the boredom. It was always good to see Vicki, especially in the early days when she was happily married and raising a young family. I even played a game of footy for the Wudinna Magpies on one of my stopovers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">After spending a few months in Melbourne I headed north to Sydney, staying with a friend in Woollahra and working for a few weeks at the Waterworks waterslide park at Mt Druitt. If you know Sydney you know you can’t get a much starker contrast than those two suburbs. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I headed further north, taking the train to Newcastle as it follows the beautiful Hawkesbury River. I got a ride with a bloke called Peter in a Holden ute who was heading to Cairns. My intended destination was my old home town of Toowoomba but Peter and I hit it off so well that I decided to join him and keep going all the way to far north Queensland. We had a great trip until we got to Townsville and the car broke down. He decided it was too expensive to fix and abandoned the car and his holiday and flew back to Newcastle. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Having made it that far I decided to continue hitching to Cairns. This proved to be one of the best decisions of my life but I’ll save that story for another chapter of 60 in 60.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">After a few months in Cairns I headed south again to Adelaide for Christmas with my girlfriend and then back to Perth.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I wrote about some of my hitch-hiking travels in the chapter about America so I won’t repeat them here, except to say that on my first trip I hitched 9,900 km from Miami to San Diego, up to San Francisco then back east via the Grand canyon, Denver, St Louis and back to New York in 6 weeks on the road. On my second trip I took Trailways buses from New York to Seattle and then hitched the 2020 km south to San Diego, travelling through 31 of the 50 states of America over the two journeys. I met a lot of interesting people and a few strange ones but most of the time felt safe and welcomed by very hospitable people across the country. More than once sympathetic drivers gave me a bed for the night or a meal. One guy who picked me up in Texas took me to a buffet restaurant and shouted me dinner saying eat as much as you want. Another lady in Washington gave me a huge steak dinner and a place to stay before driving me back out to the highway the next morning. When I was trying to get to Rhode Island for the finale of the 1983 America's Cup I got a ride with a guy in Colorado one night. After a couple of hours he pulled up and parked the car and said "There's a really pretty lake out there" pointing off into the darkness. I couldn't see anything but when I looked over I saw that he had set out a line of coke and was just about to snort it. He offered me a line. I declined. The guy I got a ride with to the Grand Canyon looked out for me when I staggered back to the top and gave me a place to camp the night in his tent. Hitching in America was a little more difficult because it was illegal on the interstate highways but they were the place you had to be for travelling long distances. I never got busted by any cops and nor did I ever have to wait very long for a lift.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">My other big hitching trip was from Amsterdam to Madrid for the 1982 World Cup Finals. Hitching through France was more challenging because I didn’t speak any French so the scenery was beautiful but the conversation was extremely limited.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">When I arrived back in Australia after a couple of years overseas and had no money, I took the train to Liverpool and hitch-hiked south from Sydney back to Dad and Julie’s place at Maryborough. It chills me a little now to know that around that time serial killer Ivan Milat was picking up hitch-hikers in the same region and murdering them in the Belanglo Forest! I was always fortunate to get rides with good people and to feel safe and relaxed on my many rides.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">These days hitch-hiking has almost disappeared. I understand why but it still saddens me a little. Having said that, my youngest son Paul has done quite a lot of hitch-hiking around the country the last couple of years, often with a companion and carrying a guitar, busking as he went.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I very occasionally see someone thumbing a lift on the Bellarine Hwy and I always stop and pick them up. What goes around comes around.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-90648280870722346112021-07-26T00:53:00.000+10:002021-07-26T00:53:27.061+10:00 60 in 60 #16 Gary<p> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">60 in 60 #16</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Gary</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcYho_4hw9e0a4AWkKLZ06JS-UcVMptoD2tDot0PaHN5zFccLJW7x0WJYC3xZdgz8O6zvDw-n4we4LKPNTY6Qncg0Y9v8Go6t0kIGCm9gR_nxrsD-Gp7H0_1p_lHFkuLcfxRAhgy_7Z0Y/s592/A7C42239-8FC4-40EC-83DD-E87351AFCE07.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="487" data-original-width="592" height="401" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcYho_4hw9e0a4AWkKLZ06JS-UcVMptoD2tDot0PaHN5zFccLJW7x0WJYC3xZdgz8O6zvDw-n4we4LKPNTY6Qncg0Y9v8Go6t0kIGCm9gR_nxrsD-Gp7H0_1p_lHFkuLcfxRAhgy_7Z0Y/w487-h401/A7C42239-8FC4-40EC-83DD-E87351AFCE07.jpeg" width="487" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">1984 when I got home after 2 1/2 years overseas</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTSfxPDi42_isqWjFhRix90gWZNH2HjBf7s78xEZ9BTArYggBOQoZV61UDUmu0f0brHPvvQTp3eUQtfW2zfBuK66Q8YWNA_RSQN77dZ8QdFVNTUxBhXncf7Mgl3EO1lrEMTkV73gHl47Q/s960/29EAB03B-9B55-48D3-B30A-E407F6D6BDDD.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="528" height="720" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTSfxPDi42_isqWjFhRix90gWZNH2HjBf7s78xEZ9BTArYggBOQoZV61UDUmu0f0brHPvvQTp3eUQtfW2zfBuK66Q8YWNA_RSQN77dZ8QdFVNTUxBhXncf7Mgl3EO1lrEMTkV73gHl47Q/w396-h720/29EAB03B-9B55-48D3-B30A-E407F6D6BDDD.jpeg" width="396" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><o:p>At Pop's 80th birthday 2016</o:p></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Pop told me once that a man is fortunate if he has 3-4 really good friends in his life. I have been greatly blessed with many close friendships. Some have come and gone, some have been for a brief season, and some have endured many many years. I sometimes add them up in my mind and each time I do I feel tremendous gratitude and love for my mates. They have added so much to my life and I hope I have added something in return along the way.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">My oldest mate, as in the one I have known the longest, is Gary Davies, we have literally known one another our whole lives. In fact we are second generation mates because his Dad, Allan and my Dad, Peter were best mates, having met when they were teenagers knocking around Preston and Northcote in the fifties. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Like the McQuinns, the Davies were cousins not by blood but by choice. Our Dads grew up together, got their first cars together, went rabbiting together, played footy together, were in Gold Cross Golf Club together and got engaged and married together so naturally, when they started families, we grew up together. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I’m not sure what my earliest memory of Gary is, he's always been in my life, having been born about a month before me. He recently told me that he remembers playing his first ever game of Snakes and Ladders at our place when we were kids living in Geelong. Family visits, BBQs, footy games and lots of kids all playing happily together typified life in the sixties but it was in our late teenage years that my bond with Gary really developed. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">When I finished school and started travelling, hitch-hiking around the country, I gravitated back to Victoria and stayed with Nan and Pa in Northcote. Gary and I started spending a lot of time together, often at the Northcote Bowling Alley. His mates were amazed that I had hitch-hiked from Perth and I almost had them believing I had roller-skated across the Nullabor! For a couple of months I had a job promoting The Pancake Parlour which involved roller-skating around the city in Melbourne giving out vouchers for free hot chocolate. I gave one to Elton John and Renata one night as they came out of one of Melbourne’s theatres.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I remember giving Gary relationship advice regarding his girlfriend at the time! </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">In 1980 and 1981 I saw Geelong lose successive preliminary Finals against Collingwood at Waverley. Gary is a life-long Richmond fan and in 1980 the Tigers played Collingwood in the VFL Grand Final. Gary managed to secure a couple of tickets to the game for us. I flirted with the idea of reselling them for the going rate of $250 but thankfully Gaz talked me out of it and we went to the game, my first Grand Final. It was a great day for the yellow and black as they thumped the hapless Magpies by 81 points and Kevin “Hungry” Bartlett kicked 7 goals. Sharing in the joy of the victory helped cement our friendship and in subsequent years, footy has been a catalyst that further strengthened the bond.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Again following in our fathers’ footsteps we played golf together a bit at Yarra Bend golf course although in later years Gary suffered a severe back injury which put an end to golf for him.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I was around when Gary first met Christine but I was away overseas when they got married.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">A couple of years later Gary was at my marriage to Carolyn in Geelong and I remember long talks about life, love and my new-found faith before and after the wedding.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">They lived in Melbourne and we were living in Perth so our contact was infrequent over the next thirty years but it was punctuated by my many trips to Melbourne for the footy. I would pick out a round of decent games, hunt down cheap airfares and fly to Melbourne on a Friday, go to 4-5 games and fly home again on a Sunday night. For many of those trips I stayed with Gary at their place in Doreen. We usually ended up talking for hours late into the night. We shared our similar stories and struggles including battles with mental health. He always made me feel at home but I do remember one visit where I felt that twinge of discomfort you get when you sense maybe you’ve overstayed your welcome. I started to tell him how I was feeling and he cut me off and said, “I love it when you come and stay, I love it”. I instantly relaxed. Our friendship has that lovely comfortable sense of being able to pick up where we left off regardless of how long it is since we saw one another.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Allan started a business called Pyramid Chemicals and Gary went to work for him, becoming his right-hand man and eventually his successor when Allan and Jeanette retired to Yarrawonga. Sadly Allan died only a few years later but Jeanette is still there and I’ve had a few lovely visits with her over the years. Gary has maintained and grown the business but it has taken huge amounts of his time and effort and ultimately his health has suffered because of it, both physically and mentally. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMoVwtAJMaz48XKmkhQarrOVvv5vdgw2CKdXhSfAIEQsbT0H4-YJs4Actt_WtKgNFtrfbO98TFdkAWr0Nvdc5wmh7omIHhiBNVlpPJj-2gvXGtMofx2FX_Z-9-sPx9CiYWQ2Y1lcAYIg/s820/2DF44B6A-423D-4DFF-BC7B-81E8C0990AEF.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="615" height="560" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMoVwtAJMaz48XKmkhQarrOVvv5vdgw2CKdXhSfAIEQsbT0H4-YJs4Actt_WtKgNFtrfbO98TFdkAWr0Nvdc5wmh7omIHhiBNVlpPJj-2gvXGtMofx2FX_Z-9-sPx9CiYWQ2Y1lcAYIg/w420-h560/2DF44B6A-423D-4DFF-BC7B-81E8C0990AEF.jpeg" width="420" /></a></o:p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span style="text-align: center;">Pop with Gary's Mum Jeanette on our last road trip</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">When we moved back to Victoria in 2011 it opened the way for us to see one another a lot more and fostered the beginning of a third generation of Holt-Davies mateship through our sons Paul and Nathan. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I was shocked a few years later when Gaz rang to tell me that he and Christine had broken up. He has had a hard time dealing with his marriage break-up and we have spent many hours on the phone and together talking about it, about his sadness and grief, the impact on his mental health and well-being and the complexities of trying to move on when so much of his life was wrapped up in his marriage and family and the family business. It has taken several years for him to be able to begin moving on with his life. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">One thing that has helped is having him come down and stay with us a for a weekend when we can drag him away from work. He feels a great deal of responsibility to the business and particularly the employees and he’s done a great job working through some major challenges and getting it back into profit.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">He gets along really well with Carolyn which makes his time with us even more comfortable and enjoyable. I get him to a movie or for pizza at the beach just to help him de-stress and take some time for himself. Gaz loves to talk and Carolyn is a great listener so they complement each other very well. Each time he comes to stay he tells us it really helps him to relax, to feel cared for and heard and, just as he affirmed my visits back in the day, I tell him that I love it when he comes to stay. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">We don’t get to as many footy games together as I’d like but there is nothing more certain than that I will receive a text saying Go Tigers whenever Richmond are playing a big game. Sure enough the first message I got today before the Geelong v Richmond game was from Gaz, although he was pretty quiet once the Cats got on top. He’s enjoyed the last four years of Tiger dominance but as another mate said, “Don’t be bitter that it’s over, just be glad that it happened”.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I really appreciated having him around when Pop died and I wish I had been around for him when his Dad died. I see so much of Allan in him, especially now as we’ve both gotten older.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">He works bloody hard, he’s faithful and loyal, he’s a deep thinker who really wants to understand what’s happening and to nut out his problems and concerns. He’s a loving and supportive dad to his three kids and to his newly arrived grandkids.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">We both recently celebrated our 60<sup>th</sup> birthdays and reaffirmed our friendship and our love for each other. He’s my oldest mate. He’s a fantastic bloke and I love him dearly. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">PS. Go Cats<o:p></o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-21524407093681573192021-07-22T02:39:00.034+10:002021-07-22T02:44:59.287+10:00 60 in 60 #14 America<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif">60 in 60 #14</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">America</span><p></p><style class="WebKit-mso-list-quirks-style">
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</style><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMX8AGHGTECJXQ8EQ27pkGBNBg4OAO8ZXyH_Cdk2auagaoUfVoAMnuny_c-cZQvn-s6cjZ14SeWKq8ewUe-EHWJH_-xl05j_CKjrY33ye5G1NyoOnRRdJkSFJ1PzQ-FrQg2Y6KW82B5XE/s798/E5BA8826-C072-468F-AE60-947018C4905B.jpeg" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="583" data-original-width="798" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMX8AGHGTECJXQ8EQ27pkGBNBg4OAO8ZXyH_Cdk2auagaoUfVoAMnuny_c-cZQvn-s6cjZ14SeWKq8ewUe-EHWJH_-xl05j_CKjrY33ye5G1NyoOnRRdJkSFJ1PzQ-FrQg2Y6KW82B5XE/w572-h418/E5BA8826-C072-468F-AE60-947018C4905B.jpeg" width="572" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">A cheap way to get around America</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">I’ve been to the USA three times, plus two trips to Hawaii. America is a land of strange contrasts but I loved my time tin the States and I have a number of good friends there, including my best friend Paul, who requires his own chapter of 60 in 60. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">After the first summer at Camp Schodack I had six weeks to travel before my flight back to London from New York. This is a brief list of people and places from that first trip.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWxofDFhNrx53VA8dC3vPOYnWJ5wAGufEaldIuG6XGWs31OUFJDHFodIwaMG1fX3JLm9GJpqyduvqGRqLMcmkES-9b1V9hwhzkDVxrt5xjYXLbgsun8f4_R3KD_aPKWx9K-IzezEx-nE/s2880/5D4CDA12-B742-41C8-9B55-928C33722258.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1010" data-original-width="2880" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWxofDFhNrx53VA8dC3vPOYnWJ5wAGufEaldIuG6XGWs31OUFJDHFodIwaMG1fX3JLm9GJpqyduvqGRqLMcmkES-9b1V9hwhzkDVxrt5xjYXLbgsun8f4_R3KD_aPKWx9K-IzezEx-nE/w619-h217/5D4CDA12-B742-41C8-9B55-928C33722258.jpeg" width="619" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">Camp Schodack, where I spent two fantastic summers, in 1983 and 1984</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Stayed with Joshua’s family, roller coasters and amusement parks, NY Mets baseball game at Shea Stadium.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Stayed with Andy’s family, my first NFL game, NY Giants v Philadelphia Eagles.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0k_5P8XXOShPP8CQtyQT7kr1Jq8-w8MhfDg3M2C7Bv59zeB2FkNUtYMmp8E7f4wYKKUFRlMuQAGsEpgkywgy36stwq3GjbrHWz6w7ej6jXh4jJDJNDSExy1aXVjY8d6Ydpw6ORQbGH4/s2042/DDDA5F71-28E4-4F38-8EBA-663BBA2C0510.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1149" data-original-width="2042" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0k_5P8XXOShPP8CQtyQT7kr1Jq8-w8MhfDg3M2C7Bv59zeB2FkNUtYMmp8E7f4wYKKUFRlMuQAGsEpgkywgy36stwq3GjbrHWz6w7ej6jXh4jJDJNDSExy1aXVjY8d6Ydpw6ORQbGH4/w508-h286/DDDA5F71-28E4-4F38-8EBA-663BBA2C0510.jpeg" width="508" /></a></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span>Washington DC to indulge my interest in US politics, the Lincoln, Washington & Jefferson monuments, the Watergate and Whitehouse. Arlington cemetery and the Aerospace and American history museums in the Smithsonian Institute.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Flew to Miami with a couple of the BUNAC campers. Got food poisoning. Met up with a couple of friends I’d met in Holland.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Disneyworld at Orlando (one of my teenage goals ticked off).<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZjSL0WVqy6zYLLrrzSUKT8SBMXFWX-wlkXuHRKBdALxxi4nd4eHhmHXzhPUqpbimPQ_WQqkpNkFMm50IN13Df01ExHBnSc2lD7deGjPVozZHSUkvDHxLYgvDD2ZTeqggoqKy97-HRTY/s941/59C230E3-F302-4BFF-8830-BF6D1029D3F1.jpeg" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="941" data-original-width="737" height="663" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZjSL0WVqy6zYLLrrzSUKT8SBMXFWX-wlkXuHRKBdALxxi4nd4eHhmHXzhPUqpbimPQ_WQqkpNkFMm50IN13Df01ExHBnSc2lD7deGjPVozZHSUkvDHxLYgvDD2ZTeqggoqKy97-HRTY/w520-h663/59C230E3-F302-4BFF-8830-BF6D1029D3F1.jpeg" width="520" /></a></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">Some of the contents of the backpack I carried around the world, with mementos collected along the way</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Hitch-hiked from Florida to California on the I10 highway via New Orleans, Houston, San Antonio, El Paso, Tucson, Yuma and finally to San Diego where Paul lives.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->After a week in southern California hitch-hiked to San Francisco. Met a couple of Aussies at the BART station and joined them to go to A David Bowie concert at Oakland. Ate at an Ethiopian restaurant and found a grove of gum trees at Stanford university.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Hitch-hiked back to Bakersfield then headed east again to Mesa Verde National Park, site of ancient Indian dwellings.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Spent a couple of days with a couple of blokes from Israel who were desperate to see a bear! We did spot a couple from a safe distance as we crossed a bridge, somewhere in Colorado.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and back up in the same day in near record time, and paid dearly for it. Half an hour after I got back to the rim I couldn’t walk! The next three days of hitch-hiking saw me hobbling painfully up to cars to accept my rides.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6E3Rr4eGXZ10-_UO6N4vQGZrext-xtqQg2MXjzq1FAUfVMwxYoG_ceF4u7goYa77h-LV9FzWrPl-u1H-cLy2E1noiP1zq_ikUIUZ6rpyLKKdcotBMTQ7EOAH0rEsZ8HPg8GDYSpGGSvE/s787/CDC92138-324A-4C55-B78F-9AE30ED11959.jpeg" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="787" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6E3Rr4eGXZ10-_UO6N4vQGZrext-xtqQg2MXjzq1FAUfVMwxYoG_ceF4u7goYa77h-LV9FzWrPl-u1H-cLy2E1noiP1zq_ikUIUZ6rpyLKKdcotBMTQ7EOAH0rEsZ8HPg8GDYSpGGSvE/w605-h395/CDC92138-324A-4C55-B78F-9AE30ED11959.jpeg" width="605" /></a></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">Words don't do justice, you have to see it to appreciate it</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Around this time Australia II was staging its amazing comeback in the America’s Cup and I decided to stay on the road and try and get to Rhode Island for the finale. Sadly I didn’t make it that far. I was in Ohio when they won the final race and celebrated with a beer with the guy who picked me up.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->The only time I rented a motel room on the entire trip was one night in Texas to watch the 1983 VFL Grand Final on ESPN, Hawthorn beat Essendon.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Saw the biggest bag of dope I’d ever seen when I stayed the night with some blokes in Denver, a whole garbage bag full!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Baseball games in Houston- the Astros, San Diego-the Padres, and Chicago-the Cubs and St Louis- the Cardinals.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Climbed the Gateway Arch at St Louis- I love being in high places with a great view.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I arrived back in New York the day before my flight after six weeks on the road. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><b>America Take Two.</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">When I went back to Camp Schodack the following year I was in transit back home. My UK visa had run out and I had a flight booked from Los Angeles back to Sydney in October.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">My mate Malcolm came to camp with me and we travelled together for a couple of weeks before he returned to NY and home to London and I continued on my journey west. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">Highlights of my second trip. For the first part of this trip I had Trailways bus passes, $10 for 24 hours of travel, although I worked out if you added a zero to the ticket it converted to ten day’s worth of travel!!</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Washington DC for a second time, more political sight-seeing.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Philadelphia, a college football game at Penn State and the Liberty Bell.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Boston, Bunker Hill monument, the tea party harbour and Fenway Park to see the Red Sox.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Montreal where we stayed with Stu and his family from camp.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Niagra Falls and the Maid of the Mist then to Toronto.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->10 days in Chicago staying with Al, one of my camp counsellors, at Psi Upsilon Fraternity House during Rush Week at NorthWestern University. Lots of parties and drinking. Mal and I farewelled one another in Chicago.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZNRuLUVe6w1N8jPCa041vCmkiZlTPWzYKVZbgJsRdjBmW1XtJj_m1LYAfASVo_acZyuk0mkOjM-zzu_kj1A3z4pUu9nliFkcV_WXxSWzuok4MOGYyHXkK9MnEq2EiEcVIhcqDaKfYJkE/s2048/50F3DD3C-44F9-4E30-AC90-5AC847934601.heic" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZNRuLUVe6w1N8jPCa041vCmkiZlTPWzYKVZbgJsRdjBmW1XtJj_m1LYAfASVo_acZyuk0mkOjM-zzu_kj1A3z4pUu9nliFkcV_WXxSWzuok4MOGYyHXkK9MnEq2EiEcVIhcqDaKfYJkE/w609-h457/50F3DD3C-44F9-4E30-AC90-5AC847934601.heic" width="609" /></a></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">Farewell to Malcolm in Chicago. Sidenote, Mal is one of two people I know who can speak false languages in a totally convincing way. He used to make up songs in mock French or Russian and get me to sing the chorus!!</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Saw the Mets beat the Chicago Cubs at Wrigley Field.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt2NJrmmaIRSCk5IoHzOQyAryw9xqTiCMAzjghZZlsJD1ytq96E5FwZi30zZb-ovZ3MZ0dI0Sk50SLDeUoN0oJ9N2AjjuLNK4Q2Grmu_XOMsXQfQaDnwqocUt-hXZg1Eop9tESgWgDlIM/s1200/996F2AA6-E1E6-498B-84AC-E70D77070807.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt2NJrmmaIRSCk5IoHzOQyAryw9xqTiCMAzjghZZlsJD1ytq96E5FwZi30zZb-ovZ3MZ0dI0Sk50SLDeUoN0oJ9N2AjjuLNK4Q2Grmu_XOMsXQfQaDnwqocUt-hXZg1Eop9tESgWgDlIM/s320/996F2AA6-E1E6-498B-84AC-E70D77070807.png" /></a></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Minneapolis where I stayed with a couple of girls I had met at Disneyworld the year before. Watched them run their first marathon then watched the 1984 VFL Grand Final on ESPN at about 2 in the morning. The Bombers got revenge on the Hawks.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Mt Rushmore, an amazing spectacle created by Gutzon Borglum.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Devil’s Tower National Monument, made famous by Close Encounters of the Third Kind.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Seattle Washington, the Space Needle, site of World Expo 1962.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->The spectacular Oregon Coast. Stayed the night with a family who picked me up, and fed me a huge steak dinner.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->San Francisco, Lombard St, Fisherman’s Wharf, cable cars and the Bridge.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Went to election rallies in Chicago- Geraldine Ferraro, the first woman to run for Vice President, and for Walter Mondale her running mate. The highlight was heckling Ronald Reagan and upsetting his Republican supporters at a rally in San Diego.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Arriving in San Diego to stay with Paul after eight weeks on the road. I helped him move into his new place with Vicki. We took a trip to Yosemite National Park and I met his brother Damon. Excursion to Tijuana Mexico and another Padres game.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Rbj2K5BDeqxFDIjICMYMaKh2kKmu0OL6ncaNkCP_HdhI-iuJaTejmtO3cPfvhFOiTP91fPouRI13DahJVJYngDoTPgjVbfPrtewqVv5qipi-oco7iw2S0KOtcEgqL0aYTM-1Rs9y2es/s674/858A9011-BA0B-42AD-9E56-3D45F8E9BFF5.jpeg" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="674" data-original-width="531" height="691" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Rbj2K5BDeqxFDIjICMYMaKh2kKmu0OL6ncaNkCP_HdhI-iuJaTejmtO3cPfvhFOiTP91fPouRI13DahJVJYngDoTPgjVbfPrtewqVv5qipi-oco7iw2S0KOtcEgqL0aYTM-1Rs9y2es/w544-h691/858A9011-BA0B-42AD-9E56-3D45F8E9BFF5.jpeg" width="544" /></a></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">Paul, packing the truck for our trip to Yosemite</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->After 5 ½ months in America and 2 ½ years away from Australia I flew out of LAX for home via a 3 day stopover in Tahiti. I flew into Sydney completely out of money so headed straight for the highway and hitch-hiked south to Pop and Julie’s place in Maryborough. I got back to Perth a few weeks later.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><b>America #3</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">Ten years after my first overseas trip I had another opportunity to travel when I was selected to represent Australia at the Jeanne Sauvé International Conference for Young Leaders to be held in Montreal in 1992. I was doing youthwork at the time with Fusion and running the Chip Inn drop-in-centre at Warwick Church of Christ. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho6W-Uf1E1fF1mK1Jl_kQV_TbsWoNMu82FO31tgn38e50QM2EUbtZ_v0ZbM6a_vl4Q7uanhxqOJR9yUMjGBzFR7ANiQ-aEBzuzx6l1jbqLC7Ckk3ySo5gR6cvukyXahW5zk-VnNkUraiA/s665/1A519976-7B47-44DB-BF5D-381FE3716D13.jpeg" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="455" height="653" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho6W-Uf1E1fF1mK1Jl_kQV_TbsWoNMu82FO31tgn38e50QM2EUbtZ_v0ZbM6a_vl4Q7uanhxqOJR9yUMjGBzFR7ANiQ-aEBzuzx6l1jbqLC7Ckk3ySo5gR6cvukyXahW5zk-VnNkUraiA/w447-h653/1A519976-7B47-44DB-BF5D-381FE3716D13.jpeg" width="447" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">With Jeanne Sauve at the Conference in her name in Montreal. She died less than a year later. NB. That may be a mullet!!!</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I spent a week in London en route, catching up with friends like Tania and Nick and doing some sight-seeing. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->The conference in Canada was great, over 200 young leaders from around the world, sharing ideas and experiences. One young African woman made a lasting impression on me when discussing democracy and the right to vote in America. “I can tell you that if I had the right to vote I would never not use it”. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Good friends Laurie and Sonia Haynes met up with me in Montreal during their own adventures around the world.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->After the conference I tracked down a friend from Schodack, Kevin and discovered he was getting married in Boston that weekend so he promptly invited me to the wedding, a whole weekend event at a camp style resort. The bride and groom were all out partying until 2am the night before the wedding and somehow made it to the service in good shape at 9.30 the next morning!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Stayed with Cindy, the drama counsellor cum getaway driver from Schodack, in NY for a couple of days and went to the top of the World Trade Centre.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Stayed with friends from our church, Calvary Chapel, who had returned to live in America, Ron and Kay in Vermont and Keith and Michelle in Illinois.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Andy from Schodack picked me up in Chicago and drove me to Illinois.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Flew from Chicago to Los Angeles where I was picked up by Skip and another mate Mike from church. The three of us went to a pastors’ conference at Calvary Chapel Costa Mesa where I got to meet one of my heroes, Chuck Smith.</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjYjlwmjoLNDfL-L3-13qthkfuuNmXa5_slajV-uWld-QnIhK_3wAepz4MFkdLPD1eEP3svuNATmrA6yd9t2TviuZFvSirpeZKxX1iJ-JP8YzqaYnmgJnfoZGABPAMlsBmap3wCY-l8Tc/s242/B3501ABC-F317-4801-9CD3-CB79630EDBBE_4_5005_c.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="242" data-original-width="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjYjlwmjoLNDfL-L3-13qthkfuuNmXa5_slajV-uWld-QnIhK_3wAepz4MFkdLPD1eEP3svuNATmrA6yd9t2TviuZFvSirpeZKxX1iJ-JP8YzqaYnmgJnfoZGABPAMlsBmap3wCY-l8Tc/s0/B3501ABC-F317-4801-9CD3-CB79630EDBBE_4_5005_c.jpeg" /></a></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">Chuck Smith, founder of Calvary Chapel</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Went to Disneyland with Mike and Skip.</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXoiZHgfWDzATDccd5XB3gciVfrwDR906PH34dnCyPRmnVvFHgSONPn061LNfq6X-caSzHKteTr4SbkDaFFMle72R5zqnCOyQ9m-bMUfARbdCIaCk7BVYnBVhdlJaaOd9-1VcyLPwNoU/s2048/3C476935-CD67-4F63-94A7-95A26CDE6005.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="2048" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXoiZHgfWDzATDccd5XB3gciVfrwDR906PH34dnCyPRmnVvFHgSONPn061LNfq6X-caSzHKteTr4SbkDaFFMle72R5zqnCOyQ9m-bMUfARbdCIaCk7BVYnBVhdlJaaOd9-1VcyLPwNoU/w536-h358/3C476935-CD67-4F63-94A7-95A26CDE6005.jpeg" width="536" /></a></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">I love amusement parks, rides and roller coasters. Space Mountain at Disneyland is awesome.</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -18pt;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Stayed with Paul and Vicki at Escondido and had a close encounter with a rattlesnake on a hike to scope out fly-fishing spots.</span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->Flew back to Perth after a month away from home. On reflection, while it was a great opportunity for me and an awesome trip, the fact that I left Carolyn at home with three kids under 5 to look after was not fair and placed a lot of extra stress on her. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">In all I have been to 31 states in America, hitch-hiked thousands of miles and met heaps of wonderful people. I don’t recall any encounters with loud obnoxious Yanks, rednecks or Trump-style voters although this was thirty years ago and the country has changed. I found the people to be warm, friendly and extremely hospitable. They are proud of their country certainly and have a different attitude to the role of government and civic responsibility than Australians. I love America, it’s a vast and beautiful country and I hope to get back there again and see some more of it.<o:p></o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-26894020180001458322021-07-19T13:03:00.004+10:002021-07-19T13:03:57.466+10:00Group photos<p> https://fb.watch/6QFfHSXMNy/</p><p><br /></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-22369268821479327132021-07-19T03:17:00.024+10:002021-07-19T20:26:00.545+10:00 60 in 60 #14 Vocation <p><br /> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif">60 in 60 #14</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Vocation</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: right;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5BYL3_l8YSDJ3pj5dkYwug7EOyBYUjshlgLbwb7TwfPq-09hjlc_mNSczGMJ7U4IYp_-Jh2KlV3b0bfcwNGhSjPBws4m4ofa6Urceql1sJA7ENBxfGEOWvku5GxqBvs12-QgeaVOg3OI/s2048/9099DD3B-FACD-42AF-9DC6-378D40FBEC3B.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5BYL3_l8YSDJ3pj5dkYwug7EOyBYUjshlgLbwb7TwfPq-09hjlc_mNSczGMJ7U4IYp_-Jh2KlV3b0bfcwNGhSjPBws4m4ofa6Urceql1sJA7ENBxfGEOWvku5GxqBvs12-QgeaVOg3OI/w188-h251/9099DD3B-FACD-42AF-9DC6-378D40FBEC3B.heic" width="188" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkNJXETDB_GPt-RgbP8s2Mc5tYifswP9I9YeqVkXD_nj-xVeUGp_KPsDDOtd7U-7Kg1G5k7oQx_bqfD_RY-wZ-488jLf3DHN5pOriIxK1fFddglv7EG0tKrAvkSJ_zFRrBMusnETrx964/s2048/98FEBC91-C897-4AA6-8247-76C417BB5590.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkNJXETDB_GPt-RgbP8s2Mc5tYifswP9I9YeqVkXD_nj-xVeUGp_KPsDDOtd7U-7Kg1G5k7oQx_bqfD_RY-wZ-488jLf3DHN5pOriIxK1fFddglv7EG0tKrAvkSJ_zFRrBMusnETrx964/w198-h264/98FEBC91-C897-4AA6-8247-76C417BB5590.heic" width="198" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Andy Jeff and Joshua</div></div></div></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I’ve mentioned before that sometimes what seems like an insignificant event can end up being a life changing moment. This is another example. In this instance there were two hugely significant moments. I didn’t realise that at the time but I’m not exaggerating when I say that I would not be where I am today but for the things that happened in the mid-seventies when I was a teenager.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Over the Summer of 1973 we moved from Geelong to Perth. Mum was married to Arthur and for the first year or so we lived in Bayswater, renting a house from Uncle Neil and Aunty Joan. Some time later we moved to a house on West Coast Hwy Watermans, overlooking the marine laboratory. It had sloping concrete roofs which were perfect for skateboarding on although the staff there didn’t approve so a quick leap from the roof into the sand dune beneath was our means of escape when busted.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">While living at Watermans we were visited by a young bloke called Jeff who delivered a car we had left behind in Geelong for repairs. He stayed with us for a couple of months before heading back to Victoria. After he departed we received a number of letters for him from the YMCA. I had no idea what was in them but seeing as he had left months before I decided to open one and see what they were about. Inside was an invitation to attend a leadership training weekend being held at the YMCA campsite at Stoneville in the Perth hills. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">It sounded like fun so I rang the number, explained that Jeff wasn’t in Perth anymore and asked if I could come instead. The person on the phone was hesitant because numbers had been finalised but I managed to talk him into it and so the next weekend I had my introduction to YMCA camping. I loved it and signed up for more leadership training and as a volunteer leader for the summer camp program at Rottnest Island. Thus I found myself a few months later looking after groups of 9-10 year old kids, camping in tents at the old YMCA tent campsite on Rotto for a week at a time. It was fantastic and I discovered I had an aptitude for leading and working with kids. Rotto is a wonderful place and I spent two great summers there, playing games, riding bikes, swimming at the Basin, singing songs, enjoying lantern stalks and bakery runs. Looking after the kids was a lot of fun but the other attraction was all the other young people there as leaders. Once the kids were settled we would hang out, play cards, listen to music around a campfire, talk and muck around. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">As a 17 year old it was a perfect way to spend the summer but I did have a serious wake-up call during one camp. After a late night I was so tired the next day that I lay down in a rocky shelter overlooking the beach and fell asleep while my group were playing on the beach and swimming. Thankfully there were other leaders and groups there supervising while I was slacking off. A couple of the other leaders reported this back to the camp director and he confronted me about it. “Marcus, you need to decide whether you are here for the kids or for yourself. Do you really want to be a leader? Because if not, you’ll be on the first ferry back to the mainland”. I knew he was absolutely right, I had been irresponsible, I was remorseful and declared I definitely wanted to be a leader and that I would not do anything like it again. Thankfully he gave me a second chance and I knuckled down, took my job seriously, and became a much better leader because of it. Thank God for second chances.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Over a two year period I was a volunteer leader on about a dozen YMCA camps, at Rottnest, Stoneville and Sorrento, my skills developed along with my attitude and I received a glowing reference from the YMCA prior to heading off to London in 1982.</p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqqhFwoFpwHdlpLmuB2A48yaxO1jCguvEyDl0Ej60mcbQ5o9PqXMiYpXoWtTQAZ1Q4N5c-IoEBxuROkG0vmcz_C1z-bZUpe6NPXnBqBECKpQJTrEqBv-LhMpt365y2Sq5YGkMMAvcKyT4/s2048/B4E33340-80BA-4489-9061-1D61F741FCB8.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqqhFwoFpwHdlpLmuB2A48yaxO1jCguvEyDl0Ej60mcbQ5o9PqXMiYpXoWtTQAZ1Q4N5c-IoEBxuROkG0vmcz_C1z-bZUpe6NPXnBqBECKpQJTrEqBv-LhMpt365y2Sq5YGkMMAvcKyT4/w304-h228/B4E33340-80BA-4489-9061-1D61F741FCB8.heic" width="304" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Stu, a Canadian </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Whilst working at the Esso office building in Green Park I met a girl, Felicity, who told me about her experience working on a summer camp in the USA with Camp America. It sounded fantastic and I eagerly applied for a job with a similar organisation called BUNAC that recruits young men and women from Britain to work on summer camps in the States.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Thanks largely to my YMCA reference I was offered a job at Camp Schodack in upstate New York, not far from the Capital, Albany. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">In fact I was not recruited as a standard camp counsellor (the entry level position) but was given a job as a Bunk Leader and put in charge of twelve boys aged 8-9 and four counsellors. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The camp ran for 8 weeks plus several days of set-up before the kids arrived and clean-up after they went home. The program was full on with a busy timetable of regular events, ranging from street hockey and soccer to horse-riding and archery plus a stack of evening programs, activities and special events culminating in Tribals or Colour War where the whole camp of about 300 kids aged from 5 to 15 and 80 leaders were split into two tribes and engaged in all manner of competition over two intensive days. The camp ran for so long that they had a visitors day in the middle where parents and families could come and visit their children. I loved the whole thing and my Osage “Oh Saggy” Boys were great fun. In fact nearly 40 years on I am still in touch with one of them, Joshua, and to my utter shock and amazement, he and his little girl flew out to Australia to surprise me for my 50<sup>th</sup> birthday! He has not only remained my friend but he and his family have been mutually adopted by my Mum who has stayed with them each time she’s been to America. </p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglaAJBQrg0in1Mv6wWGrMojkrmG7DPp4MSZZ4B0Ye66Y2U6wK3Z0XDt_wBXI7kx9C9eHEUV8l5FU4ia7cwozf1iPDM6eKqWDwqL6NU0yZg4fcSuiLvmF_x3qe7FHggt4GmATkVCPPoWOw/s2048/DB817FC9-57A1-4EF0-87EB-EFE8474F5D2D.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglaAJBQrg0in1Mv6wWGrMojkrmG7DPp4MSZZ4B0Ye66Y2U6wK3Z0XDt_wBXI7kx9C9eHEUV8l5FU4ia7cwozf1iPDM6eKqWDwqL6NU0yZg4fcSuiLvmF_x3qe7FHggt4GmATkVCPPoWOw/w521-h391/DB817FC9-57A1-4EF0-87EB-EFE8474F5D2D.heic" width="521" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The BUNACs at Camp Schodack 1984</div></div></div><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Again, one of the best things about the camp was the other leaders and on nights when we weren’t on duty we headed for the local bar to play pool, feed the jukebox and drink American beer like Budweiser and Schlitz. I had learnt my lesson though and was always fit and ready for work with the kids each day. We got one and a half days off each week and used those days to visit New York City or go and stay at people’s cabins on the lake etc. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">There were many memorable moments at Camp Schodack but the one that has remained most vivid and important happened before the kids arrived. Taking a look at my list of campers, several experienced leaders said “Oh, you’ve got Andy Levy!” in a tone that suggested that was not a good thing. By tradition the kids, mostly from well-off Jewish families from NY and Long Island, came to the same camp every year and then when old enough graduated to become CITs (counsellors in training) and eventually counsellors in their own right. I had no idea who Andy was but he clearly had a reputation as a difficult kid. I decided that I would ignore all the warnings and prophets of doom. I would take Andy on face value and treat him exactly the same as every other kid in my bunk, with as much love and care as I could. Lo and behold! It worked. Andy and I got along brilliantly and he had a fantastic summer without the slightest hint of a problem. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I had such a good experience at Schodack that I signed up to come back the following year, 1984, and was put in charge of a larger group and more counsellors. Having blazed a trail as the first BUNAC to be a Bunk Leader the previous year, the camp employed several more BUNACs and made two more of them Bunk Leaders which added another level of enjoyment to the experience. The highlight for me was getting my mate Malcolm a job at the same camp. He is a very charismatic bloke and when the Americans dubbed him X after Malcolm X he quickly assumed the status of cult figure around camp. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdGZkyTqAa7cc7pOQ9ehaHWETNI1xGdng_oh48Nbxc4X7k5vGbIarxJ_BQhdootn3jmm2ilR7jY-Rk-kRcCwjuHKXHJuuf-AgjkCu-5cY28fJeAKptLpcmoMa8CHoI-HpnMWU1wBjDGQ8/s648/42FEC099-49B2-4A98-BB53-F1ADF2D4F574.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="535" data-original-width="648" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdGZkyTqAa7cc7pOQ9ehaHWETNI1xGdng_oh48Nbxc4X7k5vGbIarxJ_BQhdootn3jmm2ilR7jY-Rk-kRcCwjuHKXHJuuf-AgjkCu-5cY28fJeAKptLpcmoMa8CHoI-HpnMWU1wBjDGQ8/s320/42FEC099-49B2-4A98-BB53-F1ADF2D4F574.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">Mike and Malcolm in NY</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1Tk6hV94tOmv5uoRx02P-8twv4vYkoN8aExyhUlEA9P21vyIhgHLbCP5b1f7Y59r031Wp6S0mJ2JDAE7vnc08mTHFV8ilrg69L71QqqfeIZfmOp8FbPHtNE8jXqr1k5KmekyjV3ZiwA/s2048/E863BA64-9529-4D13-BD9B-7FB1FA8252E7.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1Tk6hV94tOmv5uoRx02P-8twv4vYkoN8aExyhUlEA9P21vyIhgHLbCP5b1f7Y59r031Wp6S0mJ2JDAE7vnc08mTHFV8ilrg69L71QqqfeIZfmOp8FbPHtNE8jXqr1k5KmekyjV3ZiwA/s320/E863BA64-9529-4D13-BD9B-7FB1FA8252E7.heic" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUYCtPN0Hzk4TZgSfzncj7Od7pQeh3ZikIJDrVOH0azoKE_pd1cMDPEZR9b73sV_uHydeCeLJLKvsynzRUpjyxSeSb9FuBes_nyVeMzio8FGWJuIxTzXQTuBlEhxm8tgu7QXPkN06MbYs/s2048/CD2F3354-3A42-4E40-ADAF-2E98569D015F.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUYCtPN0Hzk4TZgSfzncj7Od7pQeh3ZikIJDrVOH0azoKE_pd1cMDPEZR9b73sV_uHydeCeLJLKvsynzRUpjyxSeSb9FuBes_nyVeMzio8FGWJuIxTzXQTuBlEhxm8tgu7QXPkN06MbYs/w286-h215/CD2F3354-3A42-4E40-ADAF-2E98569D015F.heic" width="286" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">Mike, one of my camp counsellor team. Malcolm X</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I had Joshua and Andy in my group again, along with 22 other kids and 5 counsellors. Comprising the Seminole boys. I knew the ropes and what to expect second time around and we started to plan and run some of our own activities with the kids, during the day time and after hours. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The night time adventures started with simple things like moving the kids’ bunks while they were asleep before escalating into a daring escapade at two in the morning. Having teed it up with the night watchman we woke all the kids up with the dreadful news that someone had stolen all their shoes and we had to go and find them! Once we got all the sleepy kids dressed we sneaked out of the bunk and crept our way through the camp and headed for “Siberia” the playing area farthest away from the bunks. By then the kids were fully into it and both excited and mystified why someone would steal their shoes in the middle of the night! Then one by one they started finding their sneakers scattered around the oval, celebrating as if they had found buried treasure. Once all the shoes were retrieved we headed back to camp, only to be “discovered” by the patrolling night watchman. “Run” I yelled and 24 breathless kids charged back to the bunk ahead of the torch-bearing pursuer. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">As we hurtled through the door I instructed them ”Straight into bed, pretend you’re asleep, don’t make a noise!”. A minute later, the watchman, playing his part brilliantly, came storming in looking for the culprits who were out of their bunk after lights out! “There better not be any kids outside this bunk” he threatened. The kids didn’t dare move or breathe a word and he departed, satisfied with his night’s work. For the next two days it was the only thing the kids could talk about.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">One of the special events each year was the counsellor hunt. With barely a minute’s head start after lunch, all the counsellors ran and hid around the camp while eager groups of kids hunted them down and delivered them to the office to win points. Different people were worth more or less, with the ultimate insult being if the price on your head was zero or even negative points! A week or so beforehand there was an auction where each bunk could offer up a service of some kind for other groups to bid on with camp cash. Typical offerings were washing dishes, making beds, etc. I suggested we offer a “kidnapping” with all the trimmings. At the auction a group of eight year old boys successfully bid for our services then really surprised us by asking us to kidnap Warren, a very quiet and unassuming counsellor. We had expected the target to be more high profile but that’s who they wanted abducted so we set the wheels in motion. I used a session of arts and crafts to construct the traditional ransom note, letters cut out from magazines and newspapers. We stole Warren’s baseball glove and gave it to the head counsellor, asking him to announce the found glove at the lunch time assembly around the flag pole. A bemused Warren recognised it was his and walked out the front to collect it. At that moment my accomplices and I burst out of the mess hall, faces covered by masks and grabbed Warren, wrapping him up in a net and rope and bundling him into the car that had come flying through the camp gate, horn blasting. Cindy, the camp drama counsellor was the driver, so she had a flare for the dramatic. As she spun the wheels and sped out the gate the head counsellor read out the ransom note to the stunned campers. “If you want Warren back we demand ice cream for everyone”. Needless to say the atmosphere at lunchtime was pretty excited, all the more so because we had staged the kidnapping on the day of the counsellor hunt. Meanwhile, warren, who had had no idea about any of it, was secreted in the basement under the stage of the hall and provided with a meal and a request to lay low until he was found. In the final piece of the plan, I had placed the leg and buttocks of a broken store mannequin (a prop from the drama dept) in the fork of a tree in Siberia with another note saying “If you want the rest of Warren you’d better meet our demands”. The discovery of the leg was announced with great drama over the camp PA and sent the campers into a Warren-hunting frenzy! About an hour later Warren was found and led to freedom by a triumphant group of boys and girls. The whole stunt went off perfectly and became one of the stand-out memories of the summer. I had arranged for the kidnapping to be videoed and we enjoyed watching it later. Unfortunately it was filmed on a US video system and wouldn’t work on Australian video players when I returned home. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">At the end of my second summer the camp owner, Paul Krouner, wrote me a glowing reference that enabled me to get a job back at the YMCA in Perth in 1985. He noted that our bunk had had the best morale of any group in camp and that I had worked so effectively with a challenging camper (Andy) that he had had his best ever summer that year.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I will tell more stories of my time in America after the camps ended in a future chapter of 60 in 60 but I need to qualify my opening claims about the life-changing nature of these events.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">If I hadn’t opened Jeff’s letter I would probably never have gotten involved with the YMCA camping program.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">If I hadn’t been challenged by the camp director about my behaviour and attitude I wouldn’t have knuckled down and become a good leader.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">If I hadn’t become a better leader I wouldn’t have gotten the job at Camp Schodack.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">If I hadn’t done all those things I wouldn’t have realised how much I liked working with kids or that I was good at it.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The end result was that when I returned home to Australia I got a job at the Y – where, as you’ve heard, I met the man who led me to Christ, and my future wife, Carolyn.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I then got a job on a project called Buster the Fun Bus in Fremantle during the America’s Cup defence, as play leader.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">My next job was as a drop-in-centre coordinator with teenagers in Warwick, followed by the best and longest job I’ve had, as a school chaplain at Carine and Busselton high schools.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">And finally, in a deliberate move to return to my roots and work with primary school kids, I went to uni and got a teaching degree in my mid fifties so that now I am a year 3-4 teacher at Natimuk Primary School in western Victoria. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Discovering and fulfilling my vocation has been a long and satisfying journey and it all started with opening that letter from the YMCA.<o:p></o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-88504227950908192302021-07-15T00:45:00.072+10:002021-07-19T21:03:10.424+10:00 60 in 60 #13 My Grandparents<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>60 in 60 #13</span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"> My </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">Grandparents</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8doqr3IylPY4jRCcwVTruhD_p_duM6GTdsVoNYJTdZhXfDZ6ED_WyXNpyOjrzFgm1iF4h8L4HJoubZk5ZFKNvs506kTpZ_KO9cBajMNuHnxSWoAbpLuy-LBHg8f9zzLBmgiHghLBdciw/s909/92E62CC6-6F0A-44B1-B829-F61D22BA1073.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="909" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8doqr3IylPY4jRCcwVTruhD_p_duM6GTdsVoNYJTdZhXfDZ6ED_WyXNpyOjrzFgm1iF4h8L4HJoubZk5ZFKNvs506kTpZ_KO9cBajMNuHnxSWoAbpLuy-LBHg8f9zzLBmgiHghLBdciw/s320/92E62CC6-6F0A-44B1-B829-F61D22BA1073.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I love multi-generational pictures. Four generations of Holt men, 2000.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeYWF4EAiDHxEkwXD5Sl_RpE5PvQpvHxImRB5yd3Mc7dELmMqZTM98UY0NgK39PnfoOT83xSkAs2JpcQO0I3gg9ep0BGmbf5wBKSKBY6J7cVpNbcTXLv1_JBx_dS1fNHvsN3Ia66Ya7wE/s2048/Pop+and+Big+Pa.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeYWF4EAiDHxEkwXD5Sl_RpE5PvQpvHxImRB5yd3Mc7dELmMqZTM98UY0NgK39PnfoOT83xSkAs2JpcQO0I3gg9ep0BGmbf5wBKSKBY6J7cVpNbcTXLv1_JBx_dS1fNHvsN3Ia66Ya7wE/s320/Pop+and+Big+Pa.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I was fortunate as a kid to have wonderful grandparents. Mum’s parents, Nan and Pa,(Alec and Elsie Burmeister) known as Nanny and Pa Northcote, and Dad’s parents, who were divorced, Nanny Falia and Big Pa. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">We spent many weekends at Nan and Pa’s place on Clarke St Northcote. It’s a house filled with memories and I still like to drive past it and reminisce even though it is over 30 years since they lived there. Dennis train station was just around the corner, the shops at Vicki Rd where we were sent to buy things for Nan, the newsagent opposite the railway station where we would go and buy the Saturday night Herald for Pa and Westgarth State School was up the street, another place to play and ride the bikes. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The house was cosy and warm and constantly filled with family and fun. There was always lots of yummy food: trays of Cornish pasties, Lamingtons, yoyo biscuits, home baked bread and roast dinners. The crowning glory was Nan’s Christmas pudding, complete with threepences and sixpences. There was a sleepout in the backyard (which had been built for Uncle Clarrie and Auntie Emmy to live in before they could get a house of their own) and it was more than a place to sleep, it was a playroom, a cubby house, a games room and a place to read on a cold winter afternoon. The park at the end of the street was a great place to play or ride the bikes that Pa had fixed up for the grandkids to ride. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">One of my outstanding memories is the day that someone said, “If you swapped the main bedroom for the (rarely used) formal lounge, and knocked down this wall you’d have twice as much living space”. Less than an hour later, armed with hammer and saw, Pa was cutting a hole in the wall and shortly after a wide doorway had been created and voila, the house was indeed transformed. Many Saturday nights were spent in the lounge room, watching the footy replay and eating soup and toasted sandwiches in front of the heater. Pa had a “clicker machine”, with a lever that turned over numbers on some sort of odometer. We loved playing with it and seeing how high we could get the number.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsx5_Wl0N-7QgD-9wM0mXXLz7oXHgz1P0jIITqTbKeSLIe8w-U2hbv0x2owXdq0-wm2bBZNi4yAj1Rr1xoz1QTYoNx7l3cJmeolhUr0Nn48V0uY0z0JIs6e-3eFxOazWwlO-Tt3ojHtYY/s428/74DB656E-F0D5-4919-898D-FE6777EE21FC_4_5005_c.jpeg" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="428" data-original-width="267" height="581" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsx5_Wl0N-7QgD-9wM0mXXLz7oXHgz1P0jIITqTbKeSLIe8w-U2hbv0x2owXdq0-wm2bBZNi4yAj1Rr1xoz1QTYoNx7l3cJmeolhUr0Nn48V0uY0z0JIs6e-3eFxOazWwlO-Tt3ojHtYY/w363-h581/74DB656E-F0D5-4919-898D-FE6777EE21FC_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="363" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Nan and Pa Northcote on their golden wedding anniversary</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ja-1GNU_zYzbanVmi4r7N-pgG1aEOE3e6woZdxZUqsds0A9fnSSDVw6qv1bvIhr70JNUAwGI0cntitLozY_fKtS3SrLPrVX0aqHYrhLfMKGrnekWdkV4YkTSY6htoBFJJoTuK8mFulY/s909/CAA1A5FF-F3F2-4D6A-B3EB-01D47659F614.jpeg" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="909" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ja-1GNU_zYzbanVmi4r7N-pgG1aEOE3e6woZdxZUqsds0A9fnSSDVw6qv1bvIhr70JNUAwGI0cntitLozY_fKtS3SrLPrVX0aqHYrhLfMKGrnekWdkV4YkTSY6htoBFJJoTuK8mFulY/s320/CAA1A5FF-F3F2-4D6A-B3EB-01D47659F614.jpeg" width="320" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Local newspaper story</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Nan was quite deaf so you had to speak loudly for her to hear you. When I visited with a couple of mates one day, one forewarned the other, “Don’t be surprised if Marcus starts yelling at his grandmother”. She was mischievous and funny and if you said something cheeky she would raise both her fists as if to give you a hiding. If she wasn’t cooking she was always knitting something. Pa had been a bricklayer and was handy with the tools. He would do whatever he could to help and support his family. Unfortunately, Pa was a terrible driver and a trip in the car with him was a perilous adventure, although it was always the other drivers who were at fault apparently!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">When we moved to Moolap Pa helped build our new house. He loved Nan dearly and Carolyn and I were able to go to Melbourne for their Golden Wedding anniversary in 1985. Sadly Pa died just a few months later and Nan couldn’t bear to live in the house without him so she moved to a retirement village in Wantirna, far removed from the life we all knew in inner suburban Melbourne. We were fortunate to have a few visits with Nan in her final years, our kids knew her as ‘Old Nan’ and I had the great privilege of conducting her funeral service when she died at the age of 91.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">We called Dad’s mum (Elizabeth Holt) Nanny Falia because she lived in a small town in northern Victoria called Nathalia and when we were little we pronounced it Falia. The name stuck but it was a misnomer homonym, Nanny was anything but a failure. Nan’s first husband Jack died as a result of the first world war- I have his medals- and they had a son Jack who also died, of tuberculosis when he was a teenager. Nan and Pa had two children, my Dad Peter and his big sister, my Auntie Merle but they had divorced before I was born. In fact it wasn’t until I was a fair bit older that I realised Nany Falia and Big Pa had been married. And, many many years later I discovered that they hadn’t actually been married but Pa had taken on Nan’s surname, Holt, in favour of his own surname, Flint. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Nearly every school holidays we took the long trip to Nathalia, playing Spotto and trying to be the first to spot the water tower in the main street, the sign that we were almost there. Our cousins the Gallaghers lived next door to Nan which made our holidays there all the more memorable and fun. John, Geoff, Julie and Kathy were all around the same age as us and we all got along wonderfully, playing from dawn til dusk. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaLcf8KE9Yv2KSnMz3ZwOu8DRK8xx4vQ7vFGipAnOKgDi5vO4zhc96dZUTujsrTygyKdilhyO2TCimekSzd9-o8hmFJvLJVSS5uov80uSpxyod2wJdL7aT2A4lMoM-6f46oZGCJKhMLTA/s1048/0366DD5E-7162-4EE4-AAAA-9FFF42F44795.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="716" data-original-width="1048" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaLcf8KE9Yv2KSnMz3ZwOu8DRK8xx4vQ7vFGipAnOKgDi5vO4zhc96dZUTujsrTygyKdilhyO2TCimekSzd9-o8hmFJvLJVSS5uov80uSpxyod2wJdL7aT2A4lMoM-6f46oZGCJKhMLTA/w443-h303/0366DD5E-7162-4EE4-AAAA-9FFF42F44795.jpeg" width="443" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Cousins, the Holts and the Gallaghers with Nanny Falia. John is missing.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9jc2hZFiq7hqUrRGDKpxN_O9DJPROXoLVm22Zd67jav1YZ2_ZJ6cmwNSbrR9kKeC0DP7x1y4MjlGx9yKbUfgnaaWeUnTv5FINyo4DLvOYeSiRoctDCQIHN8_QJ6X-V06ZmYgzj3_A_SI/s2048/7AFE8756-D741-4919-AED0-368772371C19.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9jc2hZFiq7hqUrRGDKpxN_O9DJPROXoLVm22Zd67jav1YZ2_ZJ6cmwNSbrR9kKeC0DP7x1y4MjlGx9yKbUfgnaaWeUnTv5FINyo4DLvOYeSiRoctDCQIHN8_QJ6X-V06ZmYgzj3_A_SI/s320/7AFE8756-D741-4919-AED0-368772371C19.jpeg" width="320" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">A Holt Gallagher reunion in Geelong, the first time in nearly 40 years!!!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitzLJoELiGsc0Jq41aZBp5hHgsZyDneXui97MgMnY9lGb8mLUyWNxt5hAhjl40b5URLI7hpaqCvSG_RFLi3b60ILSEmJbtlqtqMH95_N-gPUUVvOrG8LH9FlwordEf7ToG1cTPBEP2sTo/s2048/69E18FB8-CE79-470E-94C9-FD8177B26919.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1228" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitzLJoELiGsc0Jq41aZBp5hHgsZyDneXui97MgMnY9lGb8mLUyWNxt5hAhjl40b5URLI7hpaqCvSG_RFLi3b60ILSEmJbtlqtqMH95_N-gPUUVvOrG8LH9FlwordEf7ToG1cTPBEP2sTo/s320/69E18FB8-CE79-470E-94C9-FD8177B26919.jpeg" width="320" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">One summer we got into digging holes as forts for our games of cowboys and Indians which then graduated to digging a tunnel between the forts. We succeeded in joining the two and crawling back and forth between them but I shudder when I think about it now and the risk of it collapsing and trapping one of us. The clay soil probably was our saving grace.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Nan cooked on a wood stove and had an outside dunny up past the woodshed. It was a great break through when she got an inside toilet, the bathroom was decorated in mauve, her favourite colour. Alan and Bruce slept in the sleepout off the kitchen, Vicki slept in the spare bedroom with Mum and I slept in Nan’s room on a bed by the window. Nan’s pantry always had jars and jars of preserved fruit on the shelves and no sooner had we finished lunch than she would start preparing dinner. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The radio on the mantel piece played the local Shepparton radio station and each morning they announced the deaths of people around the Goulbourn Valley. Years later when Nan died I immediately thought of her name being announced in the same way. Nan loved cricket and when a test match was on she would spend the day in the darkened lounge room watching every ball. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Nan had a beautiful garden and a shaded veranda and we spent hours playing chasey, hide and seek and releaso around the house. One afternoon Mum and Nan were lying on a rug in the garden and we delighted in leaping over them as we ran around the house chasing one another. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">During my time in Queensland Nan came to stay with us twice and she and I spent hours lying on her bed and talking. I loved her very much and I treasure those memories because only a few months later Nan died. She was 76. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6hZdbH_eTsqYq_eNUK7ck9IjeCNzvcrKlX1I5-b4iX7oVRn4gENh__HaaZHl8MJrSkn2HrLKWTB4dKDEn2PUNlFBV_U61Qbk-qCX4vonjO-NzHOew7ee597iVZO2RvhAm946HQJ-5Ty4/s992/F7D3F58C-5B61-447E-8979-5137CD4760AC.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="992" height="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6hZdbH_eTsqYq_eNUK7ck9IjeCNzvcrKlX1I5-b4iX7oVRn4gENh__HaaZHl8MJrSkn2HrLKWTB4dKDEn2PUNlFBV_U61Qbk-qCX4vonjO-NzHOew7ee597iVZO2RvhAm946HQJ-5Ty4/w473-h324/F7D3F58C-5B61-447E-8979-5137CD4760AC.jpeg" width="473" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">With my beloved Nanny Falia, late 60s.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1g5kcoOP6XXTxZZTdPzjsKNbMgPCzjp626UWLRaS9-SkqLSWZDRRhSm6_mqSfjEanQU8fbbYJZ297BCLAwUMFj7ungN5qOQPr1s657JHsBEWHVjrt8lsHkyg9A8GHe-t3tAdKGM3ndf8/s2048/B93C0D3E-0CD3-4FC6-87F5-E6A171B7F1C9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1g5kcoOP6XXTxZZTdPzjsKNbMgPCzjp626UWLRaS9-SkqLSWZDRRhSm6_mqSfjEanQU8fbbYJZ297BCLAwUMFj7ungN5qOQPr1s657JHsBEWHVjrt8lsHkyg9A8GHe-t3tAdKGM3ndf8/w402-h302/B93C0D3E-0CD3-4FC6-87F5-E6A171B7F1C9.jpeg" width="402" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The Gallaghers at their Mum, Aunty Merle's funeral, 2013</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Pop’s Dad (Mervyn Holt) was known to us as Big Pa and he lived in Queensland with his second wife, Auntie Ada. We didn’t see him very often but whenever he did come down to Victoria for a visit we knew what to expect: a Jelly Bean scramble! The four of us kids would gather in the lounge room as Pa opened a bag of jelly beans then he would suddenly upend them and they would scatter all over the floor as we would launch ourselves in a frenzy to try and grab as many as we could. Next came the tallying and comparing our hauls before the inevitable “demand” from Dad to hand over any of the green ones which were his favourite.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Pa loved Australian bush poetry and could recite many Of Banjo Patterson and Henry Lawson’s poems from memory as well as some of his own. I have recordings of Pa reciting The Bush Christening, Mulga Bill’s Bicycle and one of his own, Tin Lizzie. Pa had been a bus conductor and a used car salesman among other things but whatever he did he had a knack for making money and he became a very wealthy man. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">When he retired he took up training racehorses at their property in Amberley, “Mervada” and many of his horses were named “Mervada _____” He won many races at the country race tracks around southern Queensland and I remember going to the races with him at Ipswich one day when Mervada Sam won a race. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Pa wasn’t flashy with his money but he did like to drive quality cars and I remember him having a Landau, a special edition Statesman and then a succession of Mercedes, one of which he gave to Dad and Julie on the condition that they drive him home to Queensland (from Maryborough in Victoria) in it first. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">In the time I lived in Queensland I saw more of Pa but it took me a long time to learn the lesson about how to shake hands. He would squeeze my hand tightly which I thought was a game. It was only when a kid at school shook my hand and told me to use a firm grasp not a limp grip that I twigged. The next time I saw Pa I gave a decent handshake and he was so impressed that he shook my hand three times while I was there. I don’t know why he didn’t tell me what to do, I guess he thought I’d work it out eventually.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Pa was a very good pool player and taught me that it wasn’t about hitting the balls hard, it was about touch and finesse. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgATiuGohKHi-h-UssZqFGWdSxoOricdhrIBVDS6MbzOHerbFImKMRjeVf9zO88__0hQjgbLbjqkzCLQt1kwzvfkaesL12BgHFWE1sEIK-D_LtXYM1IR9nXngBZi0BKrnGoCnfh33deEIA/s681/1BC4F848-91E5-46A4-93FA-431AD7126F32.jpeg" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="464" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgATiuGohKHi-h-UssZqFGWdSxoOricdhrIBVDS6MbzOHerbFImKMRjeVf9zO88__0hQjgbLbjqkzCLQt1kwzvfkaesL12BgHFWE1sEIK-D_LtXYM1IR9nXngBZi0BKrnGoCnfh33deEIA/s320/1BC4F848-91E5-46A4-93FA-431AD7126F32.jpeg" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Pa was a mate of Ambrose Palmer who trained boxer Johnny Famechon who won the World Featherweight championship. Pa got this signed photo for me when I was 8.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Many years later when we were married and just had Zachariah we went to visit Pa and Auntie Ada in Rosewood but the trip was a disaster. We drove up to Toowoomba for lunch only to find the restaurant we were supposed to go to had just closed and with nothing else open we ended up at McDonalds! They had never been to McDonalds before. Suffice to say, when they ordered a hamburger they were underwhelmed with what they received! It got worse. On the return journey Pa got booked for speeding and declared it was the only ticket he had ever received. We then stopped to buy a hot BBQ chicken for dinner, hoping that would make up for the disappointment of lunch. Unfortunately the juice in the bottom of the bag caused it to become soggy and the chicken dropped out onto the floor. To finish off the calamities, Auntie Ada slipped on the grease and fell heavily on the hard kitchen floor hurting herself in the process. We didn’t stay around long, fearing things could only get worse.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">In late 2001 Pa got sick and we knew the end was coming soon. Alan Vicki and Bruce flew up to Queensland to see him before he died. I couldn’t go due to prior commitments but once they were finished I flew to Queensland and Dad picked me up at the airport. We went straight to the hospital and I arrived in time to see him. Although he was close to the end he looked up and recognised me and said “hello there”. Those were the last words he spoke because about an hour later he passed away with us at his bedside, Dad gently mopping his brow and stroking his head. I again had the honour of conducting one of my grandparent’s funerals and apparently I did a good job because after the service one of his old friends congratulated me and said “You did a great job, I wouldn’t mind you doing my funeral”. He wasn’t quite so keen when I joked “I’ve got my diary if you want to book in a date!”.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Auntie Ada died less than a year after Pa.<o:p></o:p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-29802977550036104942021-07-12T00:33:00.007+10:002021-07-12T18:59:30.699+10:00<p> <span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">60 in 60 #12 Vicki</span></p><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="ca2tv-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ca2tv-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="ca2tv-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">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.</span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="5jcs5-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="5jcs5-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="5jcs5-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="ch3qh-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ch3qh-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1-fxRbDsP3D6EjUV3f68BNK4Z30VUjngzxv8ay-QUF2BmFkoaOfllyuhM5-vGPrheMGSPdjQ60bgWTzUwXGKyDS6WeXJ06pWD6zQTW9FPb0YwK00J01sU7p9h0TFUUYdsWIVWyHkILCE/s2048/E4903469-6917-43CF-A8EE-CEFFAE520D0C.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1539" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1-fxRbDsP3D6EjUV3f68BNK4Z30VUjngzxv8ay-QUF2BmFkoaOfllyuhM5-vGPrheMGSPdjQ60bgWTzUwXGKyDS6WeXJ06pWD6zQTW9FPb0YwK00J01sU7p9h0TFUUYdsWIVWyHkILCE/s320/E4903469-6917-43CF-A8EE-CEFFAE520D0C.heic" width="320" /></a></div><span data-offset-key="ch3qh-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Happy Birthday Sis. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="c7rlr-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="c7rlr-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="c7rlr-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">My sister Vicki is two years older than me. We were close as kids, despite my misbehaviour always getting my siblings into trouble, or that’s what she tells me! </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="b9v6p-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="b9v6p-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="b9v6p-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">We all went to Newtown State School and while I was focused on footy, Vicki played Netball and softball with distinction, winning the league best & fairest while playing with Guild Softball Club. Her closest friends were Leanne McHugh and Debbie White who lived on Skene St. Debbie’s Dad was Lindsay White who played for Geelong and was the VFL leading goal-kicker in 1942 and 1948. In the last year Vicki has managed to reconnect with Debbie, who still lives in Geelong. Vicki was a Mally Flea, the nickname given to girls who went to Matthew Flinders Girls High School. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="2lniq-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="2lniq-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="2lniq-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">In my time in Queensland Vicki drove over from Perth with a friend, Denise, and we had a memorable trip to Carnarvon Gorge in the Coaster bus.</span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="bbf1c-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bbf1c-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="bbf1c-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">After leaving school she worked in a bank and then at the Lodge on Rottnest Island.</span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="10rkl-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="10rkl-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="10rkl-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="bbiom-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bbiom-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="bbiom-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">The older we’ve gotten the closer we’ve become and I love the time we get to spend together. Perhaps that’s because for over thirty years Vicki lived near Wudinna, a small town on the Eyre Highway about 6 hours north-west of Adelaide. She was married and had three kids, Matthew, Daniel and Stacey but the marriage came to an unhappy end about ten years ago. Prior to that, Wudinna was a welcome oasis when trekking across the Nullabor, something I did fairly often, usually hitch-hiking in the early days. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="598ho-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="598ho-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="598ho-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Life in Wudinna was pretty challenging in a variety of ways. The intensity of farming, raising three small children in an isolated place, loneliness and distance from family and friends, and relationship issues not of her making all took their toll but on top of that came a series of health problems. Vicki fell out of a truck on the farm and suffered a significant head injury which has caused on-going pain and problems ever since, including the loss of both taste and smell. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="3d3gh-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="3d3gh-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="3d3gh-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="43jcs-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="43jcs-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="43jcs-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">After her marriage finally ended Vicki moved to Victoria and built a house at Leopold, close to where we live in Ocean Grove. It gave us a lot more opportunities to spend time together and to indulge in our shared love of the Cats. In the first couple of years we went to the footy together a lot and still have season tickets together at Kardinia Park.</span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="fgfe8-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="fgfe8-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="fgfe8-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Family life took a back seat when we found out that Dad had cancer. We got a phone call from Gympie Hospital one day and the next morning Vicki and I were on a plane to Queensland. There followed almost a year of caring for Pop as he went through surgery, chemo and radiation treatment. Between the four of us (Alan, Vicki, Bruce and I) we shared the load but Vicki did the lion’s share. Dad always referred to her as his favourite daughter and she certainly earned that title during that year, although the Golden-haired boy (Alan) also was mentioned in despatches. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="2p0ap-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="2p0ap-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="2p0ap-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="eehrt-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="eehrt-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="eehrt-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">When Pop made the momentous move back to Victoria 4/6 of the nuclear Holt family were all living in or around Geelong, but not for long. Vicki met Don and their relationship quickly blossomed into love. Next thing, they had sold up and bought a house in Casterton, in western Victoria. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="fir2a-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="fir2a-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="fir2a-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Things were going very well until late last year when Vicki’s rotten luck with health struck again and she discovered she had breast cancer. She has recently finished chemo and radiation treatment and we are all hoping and praying that she will beat it. </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="53hdr-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="53hdr-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="53hdr-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="cgjff-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="cgjff-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="cgjff-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Vicki has been a wonderful big sister to me. She is generous and kind and has a very close relationship with Carolyn. While she was having radiation treatment in Geelong she stayed with Carolyn for a month which was a time of blessing for both of them. Vicki dearly loves her children and especially enjoys being a Grandma to her six grandchildren.</span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="bh5is-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="bh5is-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="bh5is-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">She is fond of her nieces and nephews too and always takes an interest in how our kids are going. Vicki loves doing craft work and scrap booking (whatever that is). </span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="fahdv-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="fahdv-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="fahdv-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div></div><div data-block="true" data-editor="2nqh6" data-offset-key="fpl96-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="fpl96-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span data-offset-key="fpl96-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Vicki, I love you very much. I look forward to many more trips to the footy, weekends in Casterton and Ocean Grove, family meals, stories and laughter with you. You are very precious to us.<br /></span></div></div>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-55825978356651644932021-07-07T02:35:00.004+10:002021-07-07T02:35:59.636+10:0060 in 60 #11 Tottenham Hotspur<p> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">60 in 60 #11 Tottenham Hotspur</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiANI1DOvqn5PVhJPwbe33tXIPyb_QT8PlmWMuJraV6mIAfv_IIix-jajxe1Uiy5fXh8K0_I-w2Q6Vp4PoUqT6EK9oDvtFemYB8LINCJIMe4PmSuaGEj0D8kartE-K7iOIcXx5TXPav7eY/s236/364A7240-086E-470D-9267-D2573B7197B6_4_5005_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="236" data-original-width="115" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiANI1DOvqn5PVhJPwbe33tXIPyb_QT8PlmWMuJraV6mIAfv_IIix-jajxe1Uiy5fXh8K0_I-w2Q6Vp4PoUqT6EK9oDvtFemYB8LINCJIMe4PmSuaGEj0D8kartE-K7iOIcXx5TXPav7eY/s0/364A7240-086E-470D-9267-D2573B7197B6_4_5005_c.jpeg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCr_adKxTxNZYljoA6I_uVfIlNpp7K4_XaatvY99HngMbSR9Esta-0gGdarLk5-ku9mgo-Hq_iHQeQ-FjgaBo61C3VNfzR7KH0f7tlMCTRzHorxvrqf4pt-ybozbPCquLcug3ykCFCDZY/s308/8F75328A-141D-40BB-A16A-AE61D8373E72_4_5005_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="163" data-original-width="308" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCr_adKxTxNZYljoA6I_uVfIlNpp7K4_XaatvY99HngMbSR9Esta-0gGdarLk5-ku9mgo-Hq_iHQeQ-FjgaBo61C3VNfzR7KH0f7tlMCTRzHorxvrqf4pt-ybozbPCquLcug3ykCFCDZY/w488-h258/8F75328A-141D-40BB-A16A-AE61D8373E72_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="488" /></a></div></div></div><br /><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">There are moments and events that change your life: Starting school, becoming a teenager, reaching adulthood, falling in love, getting married, getting a job, having children, milestone birthdays, the death of someone you love. All of these are expected and predictable events in a typical life but sometimes something seemingly simple and insignificant happens and your life is changed as a result. Such an event happened to me when I was eleven. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">It was 1972 and we were living on Wiggs Rd Moolap. I went next door to my friend Anthony Long’s place. He was watching Match of the Day, the English soccer replay on TV. The game was between Wolverhampton Wanderers and Tottenham Hotspur. He told me he barracked for Wolves so I said I’ll go for the other team. From that chance event a metaphorical switch was flicked on in my brain and heart and I fell in love with Spurs, literally! I was, as you’ve read, mad about footy and loved Geelong, but to my surprise, my heart found room for a second love in the shape of Tottenham, a team from North London in the English First Division. I began to follow them avidly, through the results in the paper, BBC world service English soccer scores on the radio on a Sunday night, occasional games on TV and through the weekly soccer magazine ‘Shoot’. I couldn’t get enough of them. I found a penfriend in London, Tania, who was mad about Spurs and we exchanged many letters about the team we loved. Players like Martin Peters, Martin Chivers and Pat Jennings became my heroes. I started keeping scrapbooks of the weekly soccer scores in the paper and craved any snippet of news about Spurs I could find.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjli_v_tXTCUT6MKauMkr9A6QN4b_W-gAbGABHAshmyqnpS96lDFfB3I1mOxJGCj2VPpWEHPv3vPgsW-bbKaOQVicmW3DkBnH5ye3i5bBDbr1J7HBUE2523RbShOZmDzw7cWLNb60DDpsI/s304/A72E28EA-8470-4DD2-8A9F-0E61CF47DADE_4_5005_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="164" data-original-width="304" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjli_v_tXTCUT6MKauMkr9A6QN4b_W-gAbGABHAshmyqnpS96lDFfB3I1mOxJGCj2VPpWEHPv3vPgsW-bbKaOQVicmW3DkBnH5ye3i5bBDbr1J7HBUE2523RbShOZmDzw7cWLNb60DDpsI/w561-h303/A72E28EA-8470-4DD2-8A9F-0E61CF47DADE_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="561" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Spurs Star striker and England Captain Harry Kane</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">In 1975 the worst thing happened, Tottenham were relegated to Division Two! I was shattered. Thankfully they rebounded the following season and regained their place in the top division at the first attempt. Tottenham have a storied history: they are the only non-league team to win the FA Cup, in 1901 and they were the first team to win the Double of League Championship and FA Cup in the one season in the 20<sup>th</sup> century. They won the Double in the year I was born-1961. For many years they held the record of most FA Cup victories. They were the first British team to win a European trophy, in 1963. They had a habit of winning trophies in years that ended in 1, 1901, 1921, 1951, 1961, 1971, 1981 and 1991.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">When I was in my late teens I declared I had three goals: to see Geelong win the premiership, to go to Disneyland and to go to England to see Spurs win the FA Cup at Wembley Stadium.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">In 1981 Tottenham reached the FA Cup Final for the first time since 1967. I watched on TV in the grip of nervous tension and excitement as they won the famous trophy in a replay against Manchester City. The winning goal scored by Argentinian Ricardo Villa is one of the greatest goals ever scored at Wembley. It was 4.30 in the morning in Australia and I was at my cousin Kathy’s place in Nathalia. Everyone else was asleep so I couldn’t yell and scream in celebration but my whole body was exploding internally.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I hadn’t considered trying to go to England for the game but when Spurs reached the final again the following year against Queens Park Rangers (who play in blue and white hoops!) I realised that opportunities like this were rare and that this was the chance to live out my dream. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I had less than a month to make it happen. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I sold my car, a 1963 EH Holden Station wagon and the caravan I lived in and bought a one-way ticket to London. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I engineered getting sacked from my job so that I could work up until the day before I flew out. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I had sent Tania a telegram that read: “I’m coming to London for the Cup Final stop Can you get me a ticket?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">She replied that Cup Final tickets were virtually impossible to get. She only got one because she was a member.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I sent a second telegram: “I’m coming anyway, can you pick me up at the airport, 6.00am Sunday?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Sure enough she was at Heathrow with her parents when I arrived, we recognised one another by our Spurs scarves.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">On the way back to her place in Woodford Green Essex her Dad, Derek, took me to White Hart Lane, Tottenham’s famous home ground. When we arrived there was a policeman standing outside one of the gates. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Derek got out and said to the copper, “I’ve got this mad young Spurs fan in the car, he’s just arrived from Australia, can you let us come in so he can see the stadium?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">He obliged and led us through the gate, down the terraces and out onto the hallowed turf where my heroes played. I was in a reverie.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Then the policeman asked me, “Have you come for the Cup Final?”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“Yes” I replied<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“Have you got a ticket yet” he enquired.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“No, not yet”.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“Well, I’ve been looking for a worthy cause” and with those words he pulled a ticket to the Cup Final out of his pocket and gave it to me!!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">We were all stunned!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I had been in England for two hours and I had a ticket to the FA Cup Final!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Tania couldn’t believe it. “People have tried their whole lives and never gotten a Cup Final ticket!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I agreed it was incredible but added, “I did come all the way around the world for it!”.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The game was played on May 22 1982 in front of 100,000 people but it ended in a 1-1 draw. For the second year in a row it went to a replay. The good news was that tickets to the replay were much easier to get, we just had to line up at Wembley the next morning to buy them. Thus, on the Thursday night I was there to see my beloved Spurs win the Cup after a 1-0 win, Glenn Hoddle scored the winner from a penalty. My dream had been achieved.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmOyq6L2v8taxuWj1ayprGXIzV5VBp5UiciWvIAQYAOUTPvWJUOgcRKN2PZBb37HrMH7LioRvrR59nVzns2dUYNolBXjVX90sxjDP3GxCimjPwdhBbUkzbtSFaiUQbqVoScl78mxdiFRA/s300/F87A3202-4F0D-4B4F-8C5E-4B72071D590D_4_5005_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmOyq6L2v8taxuWj1ayprGXIzV5VBp5UiciWvIAQYAOUTPvWJUOgcRKN2PZBb37HrMH7LioRvrR59nVzns2dUYNolBXjVX90sxjDP3GxCimjPwdhBbUkzbtSFaiUQbqVoScl78mxdiFRA/w646-h362/F87A3202-4F0D-4B4F-8C5E-4B72071D590D_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="646" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p>After winning the 1991 FA Cup</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">That wasn’t the end of the story, rather it was the beginning. I had a two year working visa so I found a place to live in London, in a tiny bed-sit in Babington Rd Streatham for 12 pound a week and got a job as a cleaner at the Esso office building in Green Park.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Life revolved around Tottenham and I went to every Spurs game, home and away for the next two seasons (except one when I missed the train to Newcastle). I joined the Spurs Supporters Club and we went to away games on chartered trains. I travelled all over England following Spurs to places like Manchester, Liverpool, Norwich, Ipswich, Birmingham, Southampton, Sunderland and to games against other London teams like West Ham and Arsenal our fiercest and most hated rivals. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I loved living in London, it was like living on the Monopoly board. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Tottenham played in the UEFA Cup in 1983-84 and along with a group of Spurs friends I went to away games in Europe in Belgium and Holland. Spurs made it to the Final against Anderlecht, played over two legs. I went to the first leg in Belgium and the 2<sup>nd</sup> leg in London a week later. Both games ended in 1-1 draws, thus 2-2 on aggregate, resulting in a penalty shoot-out to decide the trophy. I was in the grandstand behind the goal where the penalties were taken and I was a nervous wreck. The drama built with each successive spot kick, especially when Danny Thomas missed one for Spurs. Enter the hero, goalie Tony Parks who saved not one but two penalties and the Cup was ours. It was a brilliant night and one of the sporting highlights of my life.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXmNZ1eJskys5cbGEQvFnXXvPicF_wPJeLfm09fbuoLSQ36gfWXVM9o5m94eo8Sz6-TPuL35fnWz4pTmS1oDa4hHGqr-GXkMhhezdL7MPB47GFR8nlzCDScerUkYySu1lm4WAEjxmBZgM/s256/43F0A523-B05E-4474-9A14-FCD1E69D8795_4_5005_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="195" data-original-width="256" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXmNZ1eJskys5cbGEQvFnXXvPicF_wPJeLfm09fbuoLSQ36gfWXVM9o5m94eo8Sz6-TPuL35fnWz4pTmS1oDa4hHGqr-GXkMhhezdL7MPB47GFR8nlzCDScerUkYySu1lm4WAEjxmBZgM/w591-h450/43F0A523-B05E-4474-9A14-FCD1E69D8795_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="591" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p>After winning the 1984 UEFA Cup </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I’m still mad about Spurs and have a great mate in Melbourne, David, who is a fellow Tottenham tragic. We exchange texts after every game and ride the waves of joy and despair that are part and parcel of being a Spurs fan. In 2019 Tottenham went on a dream run to reach the Champions League Final for the first time. The game against Liverpool was played in Madrid but our luck ran out and the Reds won in a dreadful game.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><o:p><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="258" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYsX6LtpPjlXvSQT3xOSP81-cotTPyRcodW_UsPTZITOKp9nKOAcGN-dDDPrPqP2NyuuKEmvE9-yn7nPKGdmb3Jq5ywIg3idKKVQlBByWmZQQnwQdrcqmway0Xouc9Gl39vKrXS0T0Ev0/w406-h306/DDF7562E-97FA-4106-878D-7FE434674A59_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="406" /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">My new dream is to go back to London and see Spurs play, with David, in their magnificent new stadium, reputed to be the best in the world.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Come On You Spurs.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhry0BgumSKczmfk_vBUIeQxRnJgB2jpRhZPKKFyLtLw-auiuCrzD3c1bQratBFVc3CFcWwiV4kqLOy-kHIpzw6HpjGPG2Yx-kMPlsDX0hpPS2ferBB-hYiYeiQZH0aA7wYXDJkcilzwE/s298/958754E6-1E22-43B6-8235-B51C75F09ABF_4_5005_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="167" data-original-width="298" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhry0BgumSKczmfk_vBUIeQxRnJgB2jpRhZPKKFyLtLw-auiuCrzD3c1bQratBFVc3CFcWwiV4kqLOy-kHIpzw6HpjGPG2Yx-kMPlsDX0hpPS2ferBB-hYiYeiQZH0aA7wYXDJkcilzwE/w640-h359/958754E6-1E22-43B6-8235-B51C75F09ABF_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="640" /></a></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Tottenham Hotspur Stadium in North London</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9013575890703886368.post-45884061223999216632021-07-06T02:05:00.000+10:002021-07-06T02:05:07.995+10:0060 in 60 #10 Geelong FC<p> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">60 in 60 #10 Geelong FC</span></p><style class="WebKit-mso-list-quirks-style">
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</style><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">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.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8msLTXcL48vNWBpmMpYLfZhMo6GIBirBir2ZHAFw4AevVwpNOJuCOhrv4EWG7ulWlMLHJhe2HHdNKRuHFFWoKyExkyNQyBvDOndmkNUwtxT6wyMYY3uRba8HIbkDFk_bujd1QAc506-I/s600/03CCA71C-EF96-4638-B93B-3750147EAE12.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="452" data-original-width="600" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8msLTXcL48vNWBpmMpYLfZhMo6GIBirBir2ZHAFw4AevVwpNOJuCOhrv4EWG7ulWlMLHJhe2HHdNKRuHFFWoKyExkyNQyBvDOndmkNUwtxT6wyMYY3uRba8HIbkDFk_bujd1QAc506-I/w477-h359/03CCA71C-EF96-4638-B93B-3750147EAE12.jpeg" width="477" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">Anyone who knows me knows I love football and that my heart belongs to the Geelong Cats Football Club. The love affair began in 1966 when we moved to Geelong to live: I was 5 years old. The heroes of that era included Polly Farmer, Billy Goggin, Doug Wade and Denis Marshall. I saw them all play at Kardinia Park through the late sixties and early seventies.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">I have experienced a great deal of pain and heartbreak as a Cats fan and it started early with our loss to Richmond in the 1967 Grand Final. Long before live broadcasts of the footy, I suffered through listening to it on the radio at Nan and Pa’s place in Northcote and watching the black and white replay on TV that night.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">I didn’t know that it would be 22 years before the Cats made it to another Grand Final or that they would lose four in six years between 1989-1995. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">Guru Bob of Coodabeen Champions fame once said, “Some people are destined to never experience joy and happiness in life. For these people God created the Geelong Football Club”. I knew exactly what he meant and each loss hurt worse than the one before. It was hard to resist thinking, “Surely THIS time we’ll win it” only to have those hopes and dreams dashed by Hawthorn West Coast (twice) and Carlton. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">Then to compound the pain, it took another twelve years to get back to the Big Dance, in 2007. A future chapter of 60 in 60 will focus on the years 2007, 2009 and 2011 so I won’t go into detail here, except to say that after a 44 year drought, I was at the MCG when the Cats finally won the flag in 2007 and repeated the feat in ‘09 and ’11, bringing a measure of peace and fulfillment that was profound and sustaining. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGV1drRzKDznZIMmn8_Ozjaa577rY8n946UxhkNYuGE6MXz5SacW2qfGqBdqt2Nsm9n73nZrfuK7bwE06CIdPqPCS_0cD5OyR-g_5a7Mixc-xPP8PCBPbGT518HVmaWTwlVMGgOaIJCs0/s4032/IMG_6756.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 16px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: -24px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="495" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGV1drRzKDznZIMmn8_Ozjaa577rY8n946UxhkNYuGE6MXz5SacW2qfGqBdqt2Nsm9n73nZrfuK7bwE06CIdPqPCS_0cD5OyR-g_5a7Mixc-xPP8PCBPbGT518HVmaWTwlVMGgOaIJCs0/w660-h495/IMG_6756.HEIC" width="660" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p>One of my best op shop scores </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">I have a few friends who are not into footy (G’day Phil) and for whom these sentiments seem ridiculous and out of proportion to “real life” but I make no apology. Sport is part of life and I have loved playing, watching and participating in sport my whole life. I can’t separate my sense of self from my love of footy and in particular Geelong. I have ridden huge highs and sunk to horrible lows based entirely on the fortunes of the Cats. I’m not necessarily proud of how much they have affected my life and moods over the years, but if I wasn’t so passionate about them nor would I have experienced the joyous celebration and spirit of victory when it finally came. I am a passionate person in many areas of my life but not many of my passions have such a high profile or public face. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLMyDQTZBDlTiFMWfTcejq7jACYaZlENrouIfCAcZsYPfrf4WJhEFqFSuxDDc5cq9XC2yzv23oCB2oJ3raeHn-_w-8S-4aWVL71SCsJ1exxL1EfXS9MlBoPfRQQkihnJUzHjk-vvNVfvw/s2048/C1D2F55B-EF4D-482D-AC73-3B1DBEB2101C.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLMyDQTZBDlTiFMWfTcejq7jACYaZlENrouIfCAcZsYPfrf4WJhEFqFSuxDDc5cq9XC2yzv23oCB2oJ3raeHn-_w-8S-4aWVL71SCsJ1exxL1EfXS9MlBoPfRQQkihnJUzHjk-vvNVfvw/s320/C1D2F55B-EF4D-482D-AC73-3B1DBEB2101C.heic" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></p>Since we moved back to Victoria in 2011 I have only missed a handful of Geelong games. Due to Covid19 and now working in the country, 4 hours from Geelong, I have missed several games in the last two years but previously I have rearranged work hours, negotiated shift swaps, gotten home after midnight before starting work at 6 the next morning, endured freezing weather, put up with moronic comments from stupid and negative fans, disputed umpire’s decisions, lamented terrible goal-kicking, yelled and cheered for great goals and sat dejected as my team have lost games they should have won in my pilgrimage to barrack for the Cats. I have loved every minute of it and wouldn’t have missed it for anything. How can you appreciate the supreme highs unless you have suffered through the disappointments and lows? The Cats have given me both in abundance over the last 55 years and with any luck I’ll get another 20-30 years to ride the roller coaster of footy fandom following my team.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;">I wasn’t sure how this chapter would work and it has evolved organically as I wrote it. It captures some of my thoughts and feelings about my footy team without getting bogged down in minutiae, however, I can’t write about Geelong without recounting a few personal experiences and anecdotes. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpszmtpXfgZZhC4_42HQQtTzqJshT9kJBxSOnCEtmeaNKNo62br1NTNy6R6cq1Uq-2QqSM35e-gvsI6QTE9dl1zT6QwMnGrkR5qP20HR37wJ2nIiyi8A0jFqfurg_pm4BTAWjwG7jAOjM/s1092/IMG_6673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1092" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpszmtpXfgZZhC4_42HQQtTzqJshT9kJBxSOnCEtmeaNKNo62br1NTNy6R6cq1Uq-2QqSM35e-gvsI6QTE9dl1zT6QwMnGrkR5qP20HR37wJ2nIiyi8A0jFqfurg_pm4BTAWjwG7jAOjM/w344-h258/IMG_6673.jpg" width="344" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdk-C1etzfIeWY3i7x4HVm2rQ4PvWRPnvXO75yg95K5Df5y_RaEyW3LeDKg3-D1I4mIP2pOxqyyEhMJ-AGQQ8KsLcx4Snq-MUhNvhucCRJ4WlY5ZWjFloOe5ORcjfVZrG-WWBq_Bcv_qg/s4032/IMG_6864.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 16px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: -24px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdk-C1etzfIeWY3i7x4HVm2rQ4PvWRPnvXO75yg95K5Df5y_RaEyW3LeDKg3-D1I4mIP2pOxqyyEhMJ-AGQQ8KsLcx4Snq-MUhNvhucCRJ4WlY5ZWjFloOe5ORcjfVZrG-WWBq_Bcv_qg/s320/IMG_6864.HEIC" /></a></div>It's important to be a good influence on your grandchildren</div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></p>Here is a snapshot of a few high and lowlights over the journey.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->When I was 8-9 I played many games for the Cats little league team at half time of various VFL games on league grounds including the MCG and Waverley.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPIo5EXraioyQHzyUycimBfgYNi3VHWLdkex4OUrZvDIUwXUhxb2FPXzh2Iz09yePuohQ4q-k-aSDQPVuvaKo0NERKv-0_CACLfdbP3amKgh3TxVQPTwzojFxKqeJHTNoS4NtpKtjRcs/s4032/IMG_7261.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="660" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPIo5EXraioyQHzyUycimBfgYNi3VHWLdkex4OUrZvDIUwXUhxb2FPXzh2Iz09yePuohQ4q-k-aSDQPVuvaKo0NERKv-0_CACLfdbP3amKgh3TxVQPTwzojFxKqeJHTNoS4NtpKtjRcs/w495-h660/IMG_7261.HEIC" width="495" /></a></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">From the Geelong Advertiser in 1968</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->My nephew Daniel Foster was drafted to Geelong with pick #23 in the 1999 National Draft and played 17 games for the Cats in an injury-plagued career. I had the privilege of officiating at his wedding, Josh Hunt was his best man.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I jumped the fence at VFL Park Waverley in 1980 and 1981 to see Geelong lose heart-breaking preliminary finals to Collingwood. Peter Daicos was largely responsible. I gained a small measure of revenge in 1980, seeing Collingwood get thrashed by the Tigers in the Grand Final with my oldest mate Gary, a Tiger fan.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I was at Kardinia Park the day Brian Peake made his debut after a high profile move from East Fremantle and arriving at Geelong in a helicopter.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I was at Carrara the day Gary Ablett kicked 10 goals in a demolition of the Brisbane Bears.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I was at the Gabba when Brisbane staged “The miracle on grass” to come back from 9 goals down to beat Geelong with a goal after the siren from Ashley McGrath.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I was there again in 2019 when Geelong lost a thriller to the Lions by a point in the second last round, ex-Cat Lincoln McCarthy struck the killer blow.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I was at the WACA in the last round of 1993 when we had a rare win against the Eagles but still missed the finals.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I saw Geelong beat the Crows at Footy Park in 2012 but still bear the scar of the infamous mark not paid to Leigh Colbert in the 1997 knock-out semi-final when the Cats were leading. Adelaide went on to win the flag.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I turned the TV off in disgust when Nigel Lappin cheated twice to kick goals and put Carlton in front in the final minute of the game in round 11 2002, thus missing Peter Riccardi kicking the winning goal after the siren for the Cats!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I was there the night Tom Hawkins kicked the goal after the siren to beat Hawthorn 10 years later.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I was at every one of Geelong’s 11 successive victories over the Hawks during the Kennett Curse era.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I strained to listen to the epic 1989 Grand Final on a clapped out Coaster bus while driving a bunch of teenagers from Perth to Sydney on a torturous 3 day/6 flat tyre journey to the Blackstump Festival. The radio signal dropped out every time we drove into a valley. Despite Gary Ablett’s heroics-kicking 9 goals and winning the Norm Smith Medal- the Cats still lost in one of the toughest Grand Finals ever played. Of all our losses, the ’89 GF is the only one I can bear to watch.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6It1-Py63rUONzRYGYapAPxpxB_iyHCmWSXqzmBskyRpc1ouMFbmzo9t-E3Fi4qzjOUtT0fJbz4g4BCBgBtNt18vqsjqcLislPc_zDitxREOVDaDLJIeRGnLIYkYrn5WdgtgUj3m20Og/s4032/IMG_6742.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6It1-Py63rUONzRYGYapAPxpxB_iyHCmWSXqzmBskyRpc1ouMFbmzo9t-E3Fi4qzjOUtT0fJbz4g4BCBgBtNt18vqsjqcLislPc_zDitxREOVDaDLJIeRGnLIYkYrn5WdgtgUj3m20Og/s320/IMG_6742.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The annual Easter Monday clash with the Hawks, 2021</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I was at Kardinia Park the day Geelong kicked 37.11-233 against Melbourne, the 4<sup>th</sup> highest score in VFL/AFL history. (Geelong have 4 of the 9 highest ever scores, including the biggest, 37.17-239 v Brisbane in 1992).<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->In 2018 I was an AFL member and went to 50 games across the season.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><style class="WebKit-mso-list-quirks-style">
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</style></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I was in the guard of honour when Jimmy Bartel played his 300<sup>th</sup> game and Corey Enright broke the record for most games played for Geelong in 2016.<br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjbpoVaxDGVzXZv3BjEHcGBbkepqmC6V5mbqHdsGUnFyBODhSnVGd-H_XXx74ZxbJ7WJjHZUp304pR5c3MunwlTrOboN5kg7s-gieq_DaH23tf4ReETlKLk0Au19fyGpmm46fg-i5bN8M/s4032/IMG_6891.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjbpoVaxDGVzXZv3BjEHcGBbkepqmC6V5mbqHdsGUnFyBODhSnVGd-H_XXx74ZxbJ7WJjHZUp304pR5c3MunwlTrOboN5kg7s-gieq_DaH23tf4ReETlKLk0Au19fyGpmm46fg-i5bN8M/w375-h500/IMG_6891.HEIC" width="375" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: -18pt;">Mum made this ripper bedspread for me</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->I live in hope of seeing the Cats win at least another flag. For many years all I could claim was that they had won one flag in my lifetime even if it was in 1963 and I was 2 at the time!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->My favourite players across the journey: Gary Ablett Sr, Joel Selwood, Jimmy Bartel, Gary Ablett Jr, Tom Hawkins, Peter Riccardi, Billy Brownless, Matthew Scarlett, Gary Hocking, Doug Wade, Gary Malarkey, Polly Farmer, Billy Goggin, David Clarke, Patrick Dangerfield, Cam Mooney and Paul Chapman.</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><br /><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCzRI7TQ0y0bxuqZ_shTu8mKcNgp6mf5xX98iK40pM5RbeELs4oPDTnJ52FBX7lpPk3wNMuEeGiEpab6RSTb8hBZ2LqazXc3dUukgRaiQxb4fQih-7ZAG-54tAWl_gqvvKwjwQaj69To/s4032/IMG_7311.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCzRI7TQ0y0bxuqZ_shTu8mKcNgp6mf5xX98iK40pM5RbeELs4oPDTnJ52FBX7lpPk3wNMuEeGiEpab6RSTb8hBZ2LqazXc3dUukgRaiQxb4fQih-7ZAG-54tAWl_gqvvKwjwQaj69To/s320/IMG_7311.HEIC" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKeaRt3KYdgzg6dD5gtqrjE_HBjy2FM0vZozgO1JIZawTYtCUiz0LGCZ4kBVEiAmLlaeHjO1GUXmA6V9MXwZO4RljnyW-av5_eSQTWkOBWybPRLIM_BF4crTKYTAk_S0h9Tue0vAzchBk/s820/3FF10F0A-8E88-448D-B8F5-9785E24E2874.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="615" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKeaRt3KYdgzg6dD5gtqrjE_HBjy2FM0vZozgO1JIZawTYtCUiz0LGCZ4kBVEiAmLlaeHjO1GUXmA6V9MXwZO4RljnyW-av5_eSQTWkOBWybPRLIM_BF4crTKYTAk_S0h9Tue0vAzchBk/s320/3FF10F0A-8E88-448D-B8F5-9785E24E2874.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Friday night's game against the Bombers</div><p></p>Marcushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04372523102108232792noreply@blogger.com0