60 in 60 #30    Letchy 

 

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

 

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. 

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.

 

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!

 

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. 

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.

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.

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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.

 

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!

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. 

 

We moved to Victoria in 2011. 

 

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.

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!

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. 

 

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. 

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.

There was nothing I could do except be there, on the other end of the phone, and to offer my love, care and sympathy. 

 

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. 

I’m not sure when it will happen but I trust we will get back out on the Bibbulmun again.

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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.) 

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.

 

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.

 

Love ya Letchy!

60 in 60 #29 Phil

 60 in 60 #29    Phil 

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

 

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.

 RYLA crew upon return from Margaret River. 

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. 

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”. 

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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.

 

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".

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. 

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.

 

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”!

The debrief at the end of the night at Chip Inn. 

 Willyabrup Sea Cliff

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. 

The Blackstump Trip, 1989

Perth kids in the big city

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.

 Some of the early Chip Inn team and kids

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!

 

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. 

 

Atop Observation City

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. 

While at UWA working towards his Masters degree he met a girl called Julie and not too long after they got engaged.

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.

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.

 

Phil and Julie's wedding, easy to see who the cool one is.

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.

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. 

 

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.

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?”

NB. I don’t consider this episode to have been a falling-out, more a clash of cultures and ideas!

 

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.

 An early version of The Breakfast Club

Phil, Broady, Hugh, Me

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. 

 

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.

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.

 

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.

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.

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.

 

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.

 

I love you mate.

60 in 60 #28 Cam

 60 in 60 #28    Cam

 

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

 

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. 

Anne and Terry were a beautiful godly couple with servant hearts and gentle spirits. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

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.

 

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. 

There was a memorable night when he came out in his PJs to tell us to quieten down!  

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. 

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!

 

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. 

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. 

But when the girls got a tough question Heather would start the painful process that went something like this.

Q: What city did Leonardo DaVinci come from?

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? 

We better decide on an answer, shall we go with Naples?

Another voice: Florence is in Italy isn’t it?

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?

 

This is not an exaggeration, if anything I have understated it! 

 

And the answer of course was Florence.

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.

 

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. 

 

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.

 

Louise and Cameron

With 2 of the girls, at our place

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.

 

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.

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. 

One of the Winner's Dinners in Perth at Michael and Rachel's place

 

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. 

Dinner with Anne in Carlton.

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^th 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.

 

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! 

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.

 

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. 

 

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. 

60 in 60 #27 RYLA and Rypen

 60 in 60 #27    Rotary- RYLA & RYPEN

 

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

 

  

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.

 

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.

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.

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.

 

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.

Michelle worked for one of the Rotarians and in 1989 when they were looking for a new seminar director she suggested me. 

 

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). 

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. 

Initially we invited guest speakers and presenters  but each year as we refined the program we ran more of the sessions ourselves.

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. 

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. 

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. 

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.

 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

For the team it was not quite over. 

 

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.

 

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.

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.