Category Archives: Better Up Against It

At times you just have to take the high road when you are up against it

Better Judgement

Posted on by
Reply

I have spent a lot of my life judging people – unfortunately one of my responsibilities in a previous job was to ‘assess’ people at work – I had to judge them.

How do we do this – how did I do this?Screen shot 2015-01-11 at 11.49.23 AM

I used a ‘behavioural and analytical capabilities’ list of attributes in assessing staff and students.

This was later changed and modified in line with modern (read trendy) ’employability skills’ that were required for a job which was in addition to any technical skills in doing it.  This new method, which I thought was quite fair, involved observed behaviours under a series of headings.  This was supposed to prevent the assessment of ‘he has a bad attitude’ or ‘we didn’t like him/her.’  It was about observable behaviour – or the facts.  (If anyone is interested in me writing about the other 9 employability skills I developed and used – let me know and I will include them in future posts and perhaps make a ‘business reference’ section to my site).

It was also about assessing someone in preparation for how they would behave actually doing the job.  The example I always use it that imagine you have a guy (or girl) who is a skilled, talented carpenter that can make anything with precision – yet, they disrupt the workplace, jack up management, have a tendency to be a bully – and generally can’t get along with people – even to the point it doesn’t mater what the customer ordered they make it their way as that is the best way.  Skilled, yes; do I want to employ them, no; this is the basis of ’employability skills’.  I suppose a lot of businesses now do some form of psychological testing, but in a previous job the psychologist was madder than most of us!

But, the assessment of these ’employability skills’ can not be subjective and must be objective and open to testing and scrutiny – hence, something that is based only on observable, quantifiable, recorded and perhaps even sustained behaviour (after all we are all allowed the occasional bad day – just not involving assaults, guns or death!)

One of the headings under the employability skills I used was Judgement.

The general description was:

This employability skill involves balancing big picture thinking with a focus on the ‘here and now’ ensuring adequate deliberation without delaying decision making, considering the broader impact, achieving compromise, making impartial, informed decisions and using intellect in the decision making process.

These sort of ‘trendy worded’ motherhood statements are of course a great reason to shit-can someone you don’t like – or to promote/employ your mate. The entire paragraph is open to interpretation.

So, with any observable thing you have to be able to record what you observe – plus it is good to know what you are looking for or equally important what they are not doing.

The observable behaviour to indicate good or bad judgement I used were:

  • Understands information which may impact upon long term goals or directions.
  • Pulls together ideas, issues and observations in order to reach a conclusion.
  • Recognises patterns between current data and past situations by observing discrepancies, trends and interrelationships, bringing a fresh approach to recurring problems.
  • Uses sound judgement in selecting a course of action for goals by logically weighing up alternatives.
  • Uses information systems and technology to effectively problem solve.
  • Supports calculated risk taking.
  • Demonstrates a solution focus.
  • Evaluates strengths, accuracy and quality of decisions.
  • Identifies weaknesses of approach, inaccuracy of detail and ineffective decisions.
  • Takes corrective action by identifying a more effective approach, process or outcome.
  • Accepts responsibility and accountability for decisions.

I found that there is nothing better in helping people (read helping them, not shit canning them!) become better at just about any task, than to actually be able to give them examples and explain what they did wrong or more importantly what they did right.

e.g: (using one of the above ‘observable behaviours’)

“John (fictional character), In looking at your performance lately it would appear that you are having some difficulty in making appropriate judgement calls.  In a recent matter things were going off track through no fault of your own, yet it appeared you were not able to take the appropriate corrective actions to solve the problem and work towards a more effective approach.  What can we do to improve you ability to show good judgement in these circumstances in the future”

 

Or (and better – see my post on Better an Appreciative Question)

 

“John (fictional character – not related to the John above who is a bit of a fuck up!), In looking at your performance lately you have made some good judgement calls.  In a recent matter things were going off track through no fault of your own, yet you were able to take the appropriate corrective actions to solve the problem and work towards a more effective approach.  Tell us the process you used for this as I think it is a real attribute you have and could help the company and other employees in the future.”

Of course all the appropriate detail regarding what the ‘problem’ was and the specific observations made should be included.

I think any assessment, judgement of anyone must be a matter of facts.

The old adage of ‘not telling a book by it’s cover’ is easy to agree with but often hard to do, when we first have to get rid of our own prejudices, first impressions, rumours, personal preferences and most of all deciding to treat someone the way we would like to be treated ourselves.

Of course this takes into account that we all can’t be astronauts and some people will only need to learn the phrase “do you want fries with that” to lead a happy and productive life.  But, we have to stop promoting people to their highest level of incompetence – even if they are our friend or a friend of a much higher friend, or their, God forbid, a boy/girl friend of a friend!)  Likewise the person we don’t like may actually be the best person for the job and our only real worry is that their next promotion is actually into our job.

Judgement is about observation and objectivity, not subjectivity and suspicion.

Judgement is also about practicing judgement, learning that we are doing it on facts and observations and nothing else.

Screen shot 2015-01-07 at 6.58.46 PM

I have previously written in Better at Scams that ‘intiution’ can play a part in the reasons we ‘feel’ that something is right, or in the scam situation wrong; but, is it something we should act on – probably yes, as intuition if used properly, has said to us this needs a bit more looking at – that’s when we seek the facts.  Most times you will find that you were right (or at least something was different to how at first glance it was perceived – the cover of the book always gets us!)
It might be that feeling, that inkling, which makes us think:
– That CV just looks too good…
– I like them, but…
– I don’t like them, why…
This is intuition, working with judgement, not instead of it.
I suppose I am all in favour of the ‘better person’ getting the job, the promotion, the opportunity, but this so often does not seem to be the case.
I also think no-body likes being judged, but there are just circumstances in life where this happens – it is just easier to accept, when we know we have been treated fairly in a way that can be explained to us.
Being the judge or being judged is always a big judgement call –  business is always business, but sometimes it is the better man who realises it is more about the people than positions (or especially the politics).

 

 

Better at Child Support

Posted on by
Reply

Screen shot 2014-12-13 at 5.06.22 PMI went to the graduation dinner for my youngest daughter a couple of weeks ago.  I was proud.

It was also around that time that my relationship with my daughter(s), and their Mum (and her Hubby) changed in another way.  It was like a new life for all of us, but very different.

A couple of days before was my last child support payment.  It will obviously be a bit of a financial bonus for me and perhaps a bit more of a burden for my Ex.  But, I had some mixed emotions.

Obviously we all wish that our relationships could turn out perfect, but considering the current divorce rate of about 1 in 3 marriages this is not a reality in a third of occasions.  In addition to the heart ache that splitting up may induce, it is often amplified and more often manipulated when kids are involved.

I see and hear of so many break ups that then proceed to not only destroy the lives of the couple concerned but damage the kids for a long time… This is not involving murders and suicide but just the damage of hearts and trust and love that can occur in a ‘normal’ break up when those that caused it still think it’s all about them.

Just to make it clear, I don’t think I will ever quite forgive myself for leaving my kids. But, be sure that I will always man up to the responsibility I have for them.  I have paid my child support and tried to be a good Dad at the same time.  Yeah, I have faultered and sometimes been angry about the wrong things.  But, I have also been proud about not shirking my responsibilities as a Father.

I have had times when I paid for things with the coins from a ‘change jar’ as I had no other money… And I have taken gambles in houses and relationships that ‘normal’ people don’t because they have a family to support and something to lose.

I have come out alright through a process of luck, semi good management, luck, an ex that knew doing the best for the kids was more important than hating me and just lately (well 7 years!) having a new partner, now wife, who understands, supports and often counsels in what is important and what is definitely not! (Did I mention a lot of this was luck!)

I often hear about the blokes that have had a rougher end of the stick than me and hate a lot as a result.  I hear and see kids damaged and hearts never mended. But, I also remember that most times, not all, but most, if there are kids involved and they are the most important thing, not egos, manipulative helpful friends (and lawyers), family advice (including new partners), hurt feelings and even broken hearts, then perhaps, this life, this one life, can provide happiness to everyone.

Tonight we took a photo with my daughter and my ex and her husband and me and my wife either side of my daughter, and my daughter said once we were all in position ‘I’m lucky cos I have two sets of parents.’

Yeah, our family is complex, often a logistical nightmare, full of conflicting priorities and full of responsibilities. But, we accept those responsibilities for the entire family.  We have a few kids/step kids to go that aren’t part of the child support merry-go-round, but they are still part of MY family, no matter how we are connected, through divorce, new marriages, step kids, step siblings, half siblings and all the new members to arrive through sons and daughters in law. We, and I think it is the WE, accept that responsibility and the idea that our family is what we make if it.

I also know that sometimes the ‘system’ is unfair and manipulated – often this does seem like a conspiracy against you.

There are no time machines, we can’t go back and fix stuff, but we can make up for our mistakes and all be better.

If it’s not so good for you remember a few things I may have learned:

  • forgive yourself
  • forgive your ex (even if she/he is a bitch/bastard)
  • make the kids your number one priority even if it means not seeing them or staving to death
  • never shit can your ex, even if you are right and she/he is so wrong you can’t believe anybody would side with them (your kids will if you shit can them!)
  • don’t get angry at the kids, remember this is not their fault
  • pay what is fair, pay more if you can (you can’t take it with you – keep good records, the kids will find them after you die!)
  • keep new partners out if it, if they don’t understand get a new new partner you’re obviously good a picking the wrong one!
  • give the kids experiences and time with you, not presents (a night camping, with a fire, cooking toast and real butter and stories, lasts forever; a new toy gets old in a fortnight until next visits expected new toy)
  • take heaps of photos, especially around the campfire, or blanket cubby in the lounge or when you are all laughing
  • hug them heaps

Remember your kids will grow up and have the wisdom to see life as you do, just later on.

Life is messy. But as my new wife says (the new one, not that other bitch… kidding!), look for the moments of joy.  Do you think your kids care about how much maintenance you pay, they care about how much you love them.  Show them that, it costs nothing and is an investment with an infinite interest rate.

PS:  One last gripe. If you are a ‘dead beat’ Dad and spend most of your time avoiding Screen shot 2014-12-13 at 5.09.19 PMpaying maintenance, shit canning your ex and manipulating your children – please stay out of my life and bitching in conversations I am a part of.  I really am not interesting in how you fucked up your life and blame everyone else – even the kids.  I am also not interested in your ‘good traits’ because really, you are a loser, abandoned the sacred trust of Fatherhood and now cry victim! (Perhaps the reason you are a failure is because you always were, marriage and kids actually had nothing to do with it).  I am also not interested in hearing about all the scams you are pulling to avoid paying – one of which will probably be not working… I rest my case on that one!

Screen shot 2014-12-13 at 5.38.26 PM

PPS:  If you’re the step Dad and dealing with the ‘dead beat’ Dad – as hard as it is, justlet it go (see above regarding kids getting their wisdom later in life).  Also it is not up to you to be the ‘head’ of the household, as you now live in a really, really different world.  Perhaps it is your job to make sure everyone is happy – good luck with that one!

PPPS:  …… and for all you Dad’s getting well and truly bent over by the Ex and perhaps even the courts, hang in there – see above about the wisdom your kids are growing into.  Also haters will hate not matter what, try not to be one of them.

 

 

 

Better with Des Steele, my friend.

Posted on by
6

Below is my eulogy to my mate Des Steel.

Recently I received copies of the eulogies from his son Rowan Steele and his great mate Graham Puckridge – I have included these eulogies in this post as well (on 24/12/2014) and will repost this on Facebook and Linkedin.

_____________________________________________________________________________

I went to the funeral recently for my old mate Des Steele.

I am a better man for having had him as my friend.

I will miss him.

I had the honour of doing one of the eulogies.  Below is the text of the eulogy.

 

Des was my friend.

Des was a member of the South Australia Police Pistol Club since the mid 70’s, he had his last shoot on the 30th November 2014 when he a Kelly Dog went up the Club for the last time.

Today members of the club are wearing their red shirts in honour of Des.

Des will always be remembered and honoured at the club in the annual awarding of the ‘Des Steele Trophy’ – which was established in 1997. It is always one of the last trophies to be awarded at the Annual General Meeting after people have stepped forward to collect their highest score trophies, most improved trophies, etc etc….. then would come the announcement of the Des Steel Trophy – always a highly guarded secret. At this time there would be shuffling of feet and lowering of eyes as the trophy was usually awarded after the annual interstate trip to the APSPC and was awarded for

“the behaviour Des would be most proud of.”

 Des surprisingly enough only ever won the trophy once in 2004 – when he was on a road trip to Brisbane with 3 team mates, Miller, Webby and Davey-boy-Goad.  Des was left to navigate while Dave drove and the others slept – when they awoke they had travelled 400 km closer to Adelaide, but unfortunately they were travelling to Brisbane, Des only winning the trophy once is testimony to the good company he kept at the club.

Des was my friend: 

I will miss his handshake

I will miss our long chats where would often lament – and use words such as lament – about:

Life
It’s joys, it’s trials and it’s futility – Des’s philosophy of life was so often expressed in literary greats such as Shakespeare, that Des could quote and recite by heart:

Henry the Fifth, Act 4, Scene 3

Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,

But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words
This story shall the good man teach his son,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered,
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers:
For he to-day that shreds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England no-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispins day.

I will miss our discussions about literature, about stories
– Sanders of the River
– The Washing of the Spears
– The Indian Rebellion
– Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee
…. And both of us badly reciting poetry

I will miss our chats of love, of women,

I will miss our chats of family and children

I will miss how we laughed about:
– Life, love, women and family
– How we laughed at each other…. And everyone else
– How we laughed about religion – I think most of us know Des’s opinion of who God was…. No man could be so cruel
– I will miss the irreverence….

…. And we would often say, even lament, “Life is often grave, but it need not be serious”

I will miss our beers together:
– Beers at the Pistol Club
– Beers in the Police Club
– Beers on the boat
– Beers out the back
– Beers in the lounge (the last lounge room on earth where you could smoke inside) 

I will miss our friendship…. as so many of you will:
– The old scholars of PAC
– The RSL
– Peter Alexander, Puk
– The men and women of the SAPPC
And all the friendships in the Police and throughout his working and travelling life. The friendships he had with his dogs – and the last, Kelly-Dog

Des’s friendships spanned the years, the generations, occupations, locations, adversity…. and the tyranny of time. Each of these friendships were personal.

Des was a man who if he was your friend, he asked for nothing, listened well, and through this, your life was somehow better. Many of us may not be able to specifically remember the last conversation we had with Des – but we will always remember the way he made us feel…..

Des never underestimated the finality and often futility of life – we would often discuss what appeared so often, to be people living a life oblivious to the only one certainty….

We spoke of it but Des was not like this – He knew that real happiness could be obtained by taking it as it comes, not taking it to seriously and always having time for a beer.

Des in the end didn’t have many possessions, but he surrounded himself with things that didn’t cost much but were of real value… his friends, his photographs, books, his Mum’s paintings. Des only ever used the word ‘JOY’ when he spoke of his children and especially his grandchildren… It is not the man who dies with the most toys that wins, it is the man who dies with the most joys.

Recently, I thought that we had discovered the words to sum up our muses, his sage advice and his counsel :

From Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 5, lines 17-28)

There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more.
It is a tale,
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury

Signifying…. nothing 

It would be at this time, at other funerals I have attended, that I would sit back down next to Des and he would lean over and whisper – “But we’re still here.”

Des Steele, was my friend.

I have lived, and will continue to live a better life, and perhaps be a better man, for having known him.

Des Steele was my friend.

And, I will miss him.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Eulogy by Graham Puckridge

Desmond Luke Steele J.P. 11-7-1928 to 3-12 2014

Firstly thank you to all who have travelled long distances to be here. My name is Graham Puckridge and I have known Desmond Luke Steele and his Family for the last 35 years. It is a privilege and honour to be asked by his family to speak with you today about an incredible man who was a philosopher, a sage, a mentor, a raconteur, a confidante and above all a fantastic friend, Father, Grandfather and companion, to many of us here today.

Des was born at Wayville in 1928. He was one of two children and had a younger Sister Trish, who sadly passed on many years ago. His Father was a teacher at Prince Alfred College and so naturally Des attended Primary and Secondary school here. PAC has always been in his blood and it is fitting that we are holding his memorial in in this Chapel in the College, which was so special to him. To say Des was religious would be an overstatement. He described himself as being an agnostic who believed in divine malevolence. However, he liked to have an each way bet on religion and was always quick to point out that he won the scripture prize here at PAC and he could quote heaps of passages from the bible, none of which he practiced.

After PAC, Des went to Adelaide University where he started studying Medicine. I believe he started a couple times and I think he did about 3 years of medicine before leaving Uni. From what Des told me, he wasn’t the most dedicated student and was too easily distracted with the social side of Uni life.

In 1946, Des went to Darwin where he took up a job as a Registrar of Mines for the Northern Territory. He was responsible to the Commissioner of Mines and when not in Darwin he spent his service around Adelaide River and Rum Jungle. Darwin was still damaged from Japanese attacks and very much a wild frontier town still ravaged with bullet holes. He loved it and thrived on the carefree territory lifestyle. He played football and went shooting crocodiles and buffalo and developed a love of diving, spearfishing and the sea that has stayed with him all through his life. He has described to me how he loved to go diving on the many shipwrecks in Darwin Harbour.

He came back to Adelaide about 1952 and later married his first wife Betty, which produced Rowan and then Alana. He took up a Job in Nuriootpa with one of the wineries working in the Lab and then later moved to Port Pirie where he worked in the laboratories of the Smelters. One of the sayings he picked up in the Barossa locals, which has stayed with him all this time, was “Oh gosh, it is 11 o’clock already so soon already. Where’s the time gone.”

Des then worked as a Rep for a Drug Company called Upjohn, which saw him having to drive all over South Australia in a VW visiting Country Doctors to promote pharmaceutical products. A lot of the country roads were unsealed and he told me what a fantastic car the VW was and he loved to tear up the dirt roads in it. Often he caught up with Doctor’s he knew from his Uni days and would enjoy their hospitality. One occasion he was drinking in the local Pub with the Doctor, when he got called to do an emergency appendectomy. He grabbed Des, got him to put on a gown, scrub up and help him in surgery. He remembers the patient waking up half way through and having to administer chloroform or ether to get them knocked out again. They then rushed back to the Pub to get some beers in before 6 o’clock closing.

I am not sure of the year, but sadly Des and Betty separated and he later on married Roberta. That produced two more daughters, Amanda and Rebecca. Roberta has also travelled from Darwin to be with us here today.

Des took on a job as a Parole Officer with Correctional services. This brought him into contact with the Police and other Law Enforcement Organisations and was to be his chosen career until he retired in 1991.

Unfortunately Des and Roberta separated and Des met and married Cathy. Cathy already had a Son Matthew and Des took on Matthew as his own Son and has been an enduring father figure to him ever since.

All marriages are not made in heaven and Des and Cathy eventually parted ways about 1986. Des then started his long lasting relationship and deep friendship with Helen Michos, which has endured for the last 28 years. Helen’s Son Evan also has looked upon Des as a significant Father figure and mentor in his life and Des was very fond of Evan and his Daughter Hayley. So in a nutshell, Des Steele, 3 marriages, 6 children counting Evan, and 7 Grandchildren Jack, Ellie, Thomas, Amelia, Zack, Poppy and Halely, whom he loved dearly and his world revolved around. Des didn’t become a Grandfather until he was about 73 but often said his Grand children gave him so much Joy.

I first met Des about 1979, when he used to be a regular at the Police Club. He was always very friendly and sociable and loved a drink. Boy did he love a drink! He was a Senior Probation Officer at the Adelaide Gaol and he was very passionate supporter of the Police and C.I.B. in particular. I learned that Des was part of a Group called the Combined Investigators Association, which was a way all the Law Enforcement and Justice organisations networked and socialised together back then before computers, to exchange information, make the system work and get the job done. Through Des, I met a lot of useful contacts and friends in the Justice system many of whom are here today.

I moved to Kadina CIB in 1982 and Des and his children, Matthew, Amanda and Rebecca as well as Kelly dog one, where regular visitors on Friday nights and weekends when they used to go to Wallaroo for weekends fishing. Des had a V8 Valiant, which he used to call the “Ethnic Rolls Royce” and he would call in for a couple quick drinks with the boat on the way to Wallaroo and still be there near midnight. Jean and I eventually began to look forward to these nocturnal Friday night visits as Amanda, Rebecca and Matthew used to fuss over our young Son Brett and wheel him all over Kadina in his stroller until he went to sleep whilst we enjoyed cold frothies.

Des often took me fishing at Wallaroo. On one occasion, we were at Point Riley, it was dead calm and the water like glass. No fish were biting. We decided to go snorkelling and get some scallops. After we had been in the water for a while, we saw a huge school of garfish at the back of the boat. We got back in the boat and bagged out in no time. We returned to shore and went to the Wallaroo Hotel and Des said the fish would be okay and he would fillet them later. It wouldn’t take him too long as he had done a fish filleting course he said. Needless to say no fish got filleted that night and he awoke in the morning to the hum and buzz of blow flies trying to carry the boat and fish away. That’s when I first heard Des’s strategy for dealing with any problem. The ever reliable “F1. Not to worry it doesn’t matter.”

In 1984 the Kadina CIB started an Annual Xmas get together called the ‘Captains Night’ to thank those who had supported us during the year. This function eventually morphed into a fund raising event and ran for 27 years, raising hundreds of thousands of dollars for Yorke Peninsula charities. Des was a great supporter and only missed one year in 27, after a shoulder operation. He eagerly looked forward to it each year and everyone was always very happy to see him. When we used to leave Adelaide to drive up, as soon as we were out of the City limits, he would give a big sigh and say, “It’s all back there mate, I can feel it all dropping away.” He always loved a road trip anywhere and took any excuse to get away, especially to Yorke Peninsula. No trip to Yorke Peninsula was ever complete without a stop at Port Wakefield for a Pie or Pasty from the Bakery.

Des lived in his Family House at Young Street Wayville, just a short distance from the Show grounds. In 1988 he had to sell this home, which he loved dearly and I rented my vacant house at Westbourne Park to him on condition that I could use a room when I eventually shifted back to Adelaide in 1989. For about 6 months, myself and his two dogs Kelly one and Baron, were housemates. We had a lot of laughs. Talk about the odd couple.

Des used to get lamb off cuts from the butcher and cook them in the oven for the dogs. One night we arrived home from the pub peckish to find the fridge empty and two hungry dogs. The smell of the cooked lamb meat was too tempting so, in we hopped into the dogs dinner much to the look of disgust on both dog’s faces.

Another time I was cooking roast pork in the weber on the front verandah and the smell of the crackling had wafted down the street. Des could smell it as he walked up from the bus stop and was drooling at the mouth by the time he got in the gate. I had not even had a chance to do the veggies or gravy, but he didn’t care. He was famished and he got stuck into the meat and crackle like he hadn’t eaten for a week. The next day he was feeling off and went to his Family Doctor complaining of stomach pain. The Doctor who he had been at Uni with, poked and prodded, hummed and haa then sat down and wrote out the sick certificate for “ Fucking Gluttony”. The Doctor was smoking in the Surgery and Des said, “Give us a smoke Doc. No Des, they are bad for you.”

Des bought his current home at Clearview in 1989 and we moved him out there. We have kept in constant contact since then. He retired from Corrections in 1991 aged about 63 and took on the role of being a Pensioner. He was impressed by all the things he could get for free from the Government and he used them wisely. He also became a Justice of the Peace.

In the early nineties his daughter Alana was living in San Diego and Des did his first overseas trip to America to visit her. Des soon made friends with a man, whose Son was an Officer in the US Navy. He was privileged to tour the USS Chancellorsville and be treated to US Navy Hospitality. He was also a regular at the Mission Beach Golf Club bar where Alana used to work. He also made friends and contacts in the San Diego Police.

One of Des’s lifelong passions has been the old west, cowboy movies and western songs. He also had a fascination with Mexico and tried unsuccessfully to learn Spanish. I called it murdering the Spanish language, but he persevered. He did eventually achieve his dream to do a trip to Tombstone to tour the old west and Mexico, he even went to the bull fights.

When he returned he would try and impress everyone with his fluent Spanish and his favourite phrases;

Senor Lo siento, yo no sabía que ella era su hija

  • Sorry Senor, I didn’t know she was your daughter

por favor no me disparar Soy australiano

  • Please Don’t shoot me I am Australian

To this day his email name is Eldesso

Trips

I was fortunate to do many trips with Des. You couldn’t ask for a funnier person to go on a road trip with. His wit and humour kept me laughing and entertained. Des loved the British humour of Monty Python and all the ‘one liner’ gags that came out of it. Especially The Holy Grail and Life of Brian

  • In 2000 we travelled to Bunbury in Western Australia, to catch up with his US Navy mate Sean McLaren whom he had met in San Diego. We met the USS Higgins when it arrived in Bunbury and were privileged to spend a week with Sean on and off the ship. We got access to all areas that civilians would never be allowed to go and it was fascinating.
  • (USS Higgins – Sean McLaren. Nazi’s be bumped into, potato Nazi, forest Nazi, harbour Nazi, rogue locust.
  • Snotty bitch at function on ship Mayors wife.
  • In 2003 his friend Sean visited Brisbane in the USS Blue Ridge, so Des flew there to meet and spend time with him. He was treated like a king on the ship and again got access to all areas.
  • Pistol Club trips weekend Qantas cancelled all flights
  • Point Turton Caravan Park. Only same sex couple in caravan park. Grey nomad couples. “I bet the girls will have heaps of jobs lined up for us when we get home”.
  • Parsons Beach where he felt most at peace and shared so many happy times with his children and grand children.
  • Elliston/Venus Bay, Bairds Bay, Gawler Ranges (Jobby mounds)

 

Funny stuff

There are so many funny anecdotes I could tell that we would be here all day. So perhaps they are best left for later this afternoon when we have a few drinks and celebrate Des’s life in the way he would of wanted us to.

  • Telemarketers Indian telemarketer ringing his home. Hello Mr Steeley. How are you today Sir? No very well I am afraid. Just come back from the doctor and I have to take ……………….. bowels……….Thanks very much for ringing to see how I am.
  • Feigning dementia when getting phone calls from the Tax Office or Centrelink.
  • Garry Johnson’s 50th “I thought I was coming to a 50th not a beauty pageant”
  • Matthews wedding,   “I forgot how attractive you were.”

PASSIONS

Football, Motorcycles, Police Pistol Club, Small boat club, sailing The Alana, Enfield RSL, Fishing, The sea, The Police Club, His many Dogs including Kelly Dog,

The Family shack at Parsons beach, Reading

Parsons Beach was where he felt most at peace and shared so many happy times with his children and grand children.

Desisims

  • Fair component of fuck all
  • F1
  • It’s a wonderful thing we are doing
  • IGA and family court. Checkout guy. That is more than I got for my last visit to the Family Court.
  • Minlaton Bakery. Can you tell me my name and where I live
  • You need a new computer. Either that or a psychiatrist.
  • Indian sales man at door who lost his shoe and never came back.
  • Jehovah’s witnesses at front door. ‘Absolute Drama’
  • Oh you want sugar as well. I suppose you want Milk.

Apart from good times, Des has always been there for me through difficult and challenging times.

Operations

Des had a few Operations over his life. He had both knees replaced one in 1990 and one about 2006. He wasn’t a good patient and absolutely hated being in hospital.

  • After his last Knee Op the nurses found him wandering around Memorial hospital at night with no pants on trying to rescue everyone from train accident.
  • Memorial Hospital when he had his knee OP. He hated the hospital food and wanted me a to bring him a Villi’s pie. He sat there Munching it in ecstasy saying “Graham I can feel all the goodness going right through me, doing me good” I asked him about the cholesterol and he told me he couldn’t see any.
  • Bad patient. Nurses kept coming in and opening the curtains. He would get up and close them.

 

The Heart Valve

Last year Des was told he would have to have an Aortic valve replacement. As you can imagine he wasn’t happy about this, but fortunately he got on an experimental program to have this procedure done by catheter rather than thoracic surgery. After lots and lots of testing to see if he was suitable candidate and numerous delays, he finally had the procedure done in April this year. He was only in hospital about 10 days and the results were remarkable. He recovered quickly, looked and felt better, had more energy and I used the analogy that it was like dropping a new engine in an old Holden. I really thought he had dodged a bullet and got himself another 10 years. He was looking forward to the future and was even in the process of downsizing to a smaller home so he could enjoy life a bit more, with more financial choices and without the worries of home maintenance and upkeep. Sadly that hasn’t eventuated. Des wanted Sue and I to meet him to inspect a Unit he was looking at moving to last Tuesday but he never arrived. All I can tell you is that he passed away so quickly at home, that he would not of known anything about it. This is what he wanted. Des was absolutely terrified of having a stroke or some other ailment that meant spending his remaining years in a vegetative state.

Des had many dear friends from all walks of life and it would be impossible to acknowledge you all today, except to say you know who you are and how much you meant to him. I would however, like to specially thank Des’s neighbour and friend Ray Burman, who saw him nearly every day and was a great help to Des and a carer to Kelly Dog.

Des was funny, intelligent, irreverent and proudly politically incorrect and we loved him for that. His sense of humour and wit was incredible. In many ways Des was an 18 year old in an 86 year old body. He was an inspiration to us all that, that life is meant to be lived. It has been an honour to have shared so many years with Des on his journey through life. Addios Amigo and Rest In Peace mate. We will all miss you and Kelly Dog so very very much. Thank you.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Eulogy by Rowan Steele

Dad was born on the 11th July in 1928 at Wayville to James and Isla Steele.

He had one sister Patricia with which he had a typical brother/sister relationship. Sometimes teasing, sometimes competitive but always loving.

Grandad Steele was a teacher at Prince Alfred College and that’s where Dad went. He played footy for PAC and still caught up with old school mates at the reunions.

When Dad finished school he travelled up to Darwin as Registrar for Mines. Tales from the territory always provided us kids, and his friends with lots of entertaining stories.

He raced motorbikes up there for a while and became a bit of a local celebrity, not only for the enthusiastic way he embraced the Territory lifestyle but for his skills on an old BSA scrambler.

Back in Adelaide, Dad had a few jobs but the main one was Probation and Parole Officer for Correctional Services. Sometimes Dad could whinge for Australia but it was this job that he enjoyed the most, both on the job and all the friends he made (outside of the lock-ups of course).

In Adelaide, Dad met and married our mum. That’s where Alana & I came into the picture.

That wasn’t meant to be and after a while he met and married Roberta. They had two children and Alana and I scored two sisters, Amanda & Rebecca.

That wasn’t meant to be either and Dad eventually remarried again. This one really wasn’t mean to be but on the up-side it bought Matthew into our lives. Dad loved Matt with all his heart and adopted him into our family. Dad finally learnt his lesson and found some stability with Helen as his girlfriend.

All us kids had an atypical upbringing but I mean that in the best possible way and none of us would swap it for quids. We were always surrounded by dogs, motorbikes and a rough and tumble lifestyle that looking back on it always makes me smile and makes me feel the better for it. Most of us can remember seeing a bit too much when Dad would walk around the house in his lap-lap or in a pair of speedos with the elastic gone out of it. That’s why in later years we got him board shorts to wear around the house and on the boat.

Dad loved life, loved a laugh, loved women, loved a beer, loved his kids and his grand-kids, loved his mates, loved pouring money into his boats (well maybe not loved that part) and of course he loved Kelly-dog.

All of you here have your stories of shared good times with Dad and he’d be stoked you came here to pay your respects. He’d also want you not to be upset. We all loved Dad and have some great memories we’ll keep with us. That’s exactly what Dad would want. He’d want everyone to remember the times they shared with a smile, a laugh and a beer.

If anyone is keen, we’ll be heading back to the old Police Club in Carrington Street for some beers, laughs and storytelling.

Lastly, I just want to thank you all for coming today and finish off by quoting Dad:

“It’s a wonderful thing we’re doing”.

Love you pop.

 

Better at Standing in Lines

Posted on by
Reply

I have been trying lately to sit down and spend a few hours, even though I would settle for minutes, to catch up on all my writing including making a blog post.

But as I have so often said life got in the way while I was making other plans.

This morning I was travelling to visit my Mum who is very old and sick to spend some time with her. The traffic as usual was conspiring against me.

I finally stopped at a service station just before arriving at Mum’s to get a drink and of course buy cigarettes (please disregard all my previous blog posts about giving up as none of them appear to have bedded themselves in as a permanent part of my life!)

I walked inside and realised for once that there was no line at the cash register and onlyEFM-no-more-waiting-in-line-1024x307 one woman in front of me – who incidentally I had opened the door for and allowed to walk into the store in front of me (as I have said before – no good deed goes unpunished!).

She approached the counter and proceeded to check and then put back on, her cross lotto tickets for the last 100 years.  It suddenly dawned on me that I was in the scene from the video “This is Water” where it is not about being in the line, but being in a world that I realised doesn’t revolve around me.

BANG!  Thanks how long it takes to change your attitude to being in line.  Yes, I wanted to get my stuff and go and visit Mum.  Yes, it was annoying that she was putting all these cross lotto’s on when I was in the line behind her.  Yes, the line was growing behind me and I somehow felt responsible.  Yes, I did think about just walking out because after all I had been waiting for 3 minutes.  But, BANG!  I decided to not worry about it and enjoy the experience of waiting in line…..  I think I actually smiled.

Finally after much discussion about cross lotto, the very patient guy behind the counter said, ‘There you go love all fixed’ and handed her tickets to her.  The world is a wonderful place because instead of stepping away as I thought she was going to (I was in the leaning forward about to take a step position) she said, ‘Now, I just need to order a couple of coffees.’  The moan of the people who had lined up behind me, now about 8, was thunderous – two walked out.  I actually laughed out loud.

I have decided that I am going to pick the longest lines from now on.  I will have no expectation that I will be served, or enter, or be greeted in any time soon.  I will just enjoy the wait.

Does it really matter, no.  If you said yes, I say, really?

I think being better at waiting in line will make me a better man.

Better at Leaving

Posted on by
3

I was talking to a friend the other day about leaving a situation behind and how if you don’t do it clean it will always come back to haunt you.  We were talking about relationships and as we were talking I kept thinking about work situations.

I also has to confess to them that I was smoking again and it was because I hadn’t left clean – I thought just one more time for old times sake, as a bit of a celebration of going 5 months without a cigarette…..  Yes, well that didn’t work out so well.  The break has to be clean and forever.

But, with smoking I came up with reasons for myself that were, and still are valid; but somehow emotionally they had not become a part of me, but just something I was doing for the time being.  (You can read about them in Better Stop Smoking).

I told my friend about my failed attempt (about my 10th) and said that I had not broken clean and remembered why I had left smoking behind – I think these sort of things are things that we have to remind ourselves of daily.

2014-0-10-10 Stay or Go Sign

Stay or Go

Also the reasons for leaving anything have to be valid for them to be maintained.  Nothing worse than discovering later that your reasons for doing something were as invalid as the doing in the first place and possibly caused more damage than the original behaviour; although this may not completely apply to smoking – any reason to give up smoking I think is valid!

So the questions about staying or going or leaving something are a good start to deciding that choice AND if it is the right choice.  Try these:

Is this all just a bad fit for me.
I am a great believer is saying if it doesn’t feel right it probably isn’t.  I always wonder a people saying ‘it didn’t feel right, but…..’

The people you are with have written you off
I think this follows on from the above in that you can usually feel this.  It is like the kids 18th Birthday – they don’t want you there.  In addition it may not be intuition it may be that they have told you!

I’ve written off this mob
It is often something we do, but hang around anyway.  It is also one of those situations that if it is accompanied by the one above, to use today vernacular…. awkward!

I’m treading water
Nothing more to learn here and it can often feel as if hanging around is actually making you dumber.

Nothing to see here
I’m looking around, trying my best, but, really, there is nothing about this that I really like.  Tolerance is not enough – see above about being written of and writing them off.

It makes me sick
And I mean literally.  The thing about this is it often makes those around you feel sick as well – dragging everybody else down, especially friends and loved ones is just sharing your pain.

Had a good day today – so!
I have a saying about doing worthwhile work.  If you can’t see anything worthwhile in what you are doing, and from what you understand nobody else appears to be able to either – Bye!

Is it toxic
I suppose it is something we often don’t notice until we realise I hate them, they hate me, it is shit, it’s making me sick and really, what the fuck was I thinking (this really applies to smoking!)

A few years ago I was in a situation that fulfilled all of the above requirements but was there for years.  I read a book called “Who Moved My Cheese” by Dr Spencer Johnson.  It is a book about a quite (pardon the pun) cheesy story about two little men and two mice. I read this book and decided that ‘they’ (I love the spooky, scary, responsible and nameless group who fuck up our lives called – ‘They’) were no longer responsible for how I feel – bearing in mind that at the exact time that I realise this I realised that ‘they’ didn’t think that they ever were.  This had been a long term thing, 11 years and it had taken me about 11 minutes to read the book and I was completely gone and never looked back 11 days later.  As a matter of fact, in the above situation the last time I walked away after not packing my baggage but throwing it away I actually (really and literally) cheered and laughed!

As you may have read on my quotes page one of my favourite quotes is the definition of insanity, which is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.  I think it is also insane to be doing the same thing over and over again and not noticing.

I have mostly written about going, but I am sure, in the future I will write about staying – it’s just today I realised that leaving things behind often needs that bridge burnt not only to stop you going back but also to stop them following you – in some cases figuratively and others literally!

I know sometimes we have to live with things (like kids!) and sometimes it is hard to walk away.  But, if you decide to walk, and you have decided for all the right reasons, never look back ever – NEVER take one more puff from that cigarette.

Also when you walk away often you walk towards what you have always been looking for.  For me part of being a better man is knowing that where I am now, being with the people that add to my life is because sometimes in the past I had to leave things behind.  Sometimes that leaving was walking away, sometimes running and for the most part it was about getting them out of my head.

I have not doubt if I had not, today I would not be sitting here in our home looking forward to where we are going next, as opposed to lamenting where I have been.

 

Better with Six-Percenters

Posted on by
6

I wrote a post not that long ago, Better with Bob, about a guy who was my mentor.

One of the things Bob taught me was about Six-Percenters.

Bob came up with the theory that about 6% of all people are difficult to deal with. I heard Bob talk about this over the years and think he was mellowing a bit when he said, they were difficult to deal with, because he initially referred to them as dickheads.

I have to agree on both counts.

Do you know a six-percenter?  Perhaps you are the six-percenter in the room. You know who they are. The difficult person in meetings, all meetings, every time. The person who has their hand up first to ask why we have to volunteer. The person who knows their job specs back to front, and works to them, exactly. They are the person with the boss, the union, their wife, husband, boyfriend, girlfriend and lawyer on speed dial; just in case they have been dealt with in a manner they see as unfit for their standing.

It you don’t think they really exist, get on a 50 seater bus travelling interstate and you will always know who those 3 are who are going to cause ‘difficulties’ all the way, even before you leave suburbia. (3 is 6 percent of 50!)

There is another sad aspect to six-percenters. They attrack about 14% of the rest of the population as their followers or perhaps, better described as their posse.  This 14% are the ones that perhaps are a bit weak or more importantly need a leader to follow.

Now our six-percenters and their posse are a reasonable 20% of the people you have to deal with.  I am sure Bob was aware of this and the old adage that you spent 80% of your time dealing with 20% of the people!

The unfortunate part about six-percenters are that there is no point in trying to make them change – they will only change when they want to.  There is however a chance of saving the 14% all the time.

Those 14% just need the right leader to follow.

I suppose leadership is constantly about learning, and perhaps learning who you six-percenters are and not wasting time on them and finding the 14% and giving them someone else to follow.  Bearing in mind that leadership is different to leading (see my page under Better Stuff, Better at Leading with a leadership model Bob gave me).

Do we all spend too much time dealing with and having angst with six-percenters.

Waiting for them to change while they are possibly the greatest thorn in your side is a difficult proposition.  It is often that little prick (both literally and figuratively) that can lead to an infected sore, septicaemia and then death!

A question I often ask myself is why I am allowing someone else to dictate my happiness.  The answer is in the question, in that, I am allowing them.  I suppose my wife summed this up best in her muse My Happiness.

The most terrifying thing about six-percenters is that you may be one.  More terrifying is that you are part of the 14% in the mindless posse!  I am sure we all have six-percenter and 14%er moments in our life.  Some of us may even have been six-percenters, who for some reason changed.

In my post Better Hatred or Hated I explored the danger of anger and hating in your life.  I think dealing with six-percenters is often used as an excuse for not being a good leader.  I understand that good leaders also need good followers.  We do spend a lot of time talking about leadership when perhaps we should be teaching our kids about ‘followship’.  Bearing in mind this is not new and was around long before rocket science with Aristotle the Greek philosopher saying 200 years ago:

“He who cannot be a good follower cannot be a good leader.”

I know it is often hard to demonstrate good ‘followship’.  It often doesn’t have to do with me being part of the troublesome 20%, but that I don’t trust my ‘leader’.  Trust and values are the key I think.  I briefly wrote about values and trust in my post Mindfulness – Trust and have tried my own method of finding what my values really are which I describe on the page ‘Values‘ under the menu item Better Things on my home page.

So where are trust and values connected in both leadership and followship.  Surely if I believe, what you believe and I have the same values as you, then I trust you, I will follow you – simple really.  So, why doesn’t that always work so well.  Perhaps another key factor is that we all lose sight of the purpose of where we are going.  The six-percenter can always ‘win’ because they destroy the virtuous purpose with meetings, budgets, project projections, etc etc that we all have allowed to rule our lives.  Probably a good time to look at the real purpose of a lot of things – well, everything really.   I wrote in Better Hatred or Hated  that the ‘winner’ dies with the most joys not the most toys.  I think the six-percenter concentrates their life on the toys and even when they get them’ complain that they didn’t come with batteries.

My plan now is be a better man and to make sure that I am not the six-percenter in the room.

 

Better Hatred or Hated

Posted on by
1

I was watching the news today, well actually over the last couple of days and realised that most of it is about hatred.

I thought about all the things I hated… and the people.

I started getting a list, and checking it twice to see who has been naughty and must be hated.

I realised I hated:

  • My year 6 primary school teacher who I now realise was a bully and possibly a closet paedophile
  • The guy who dobbed me in at work to further his career
  • Bad drivers, even when it is a genuine accident.
  • Bad service in shops and restaurants.

This is short list as I realised as I started writing it that I hated more things than I liked.  Then I thought about what I was going to do about all this hatred.  I decided that I was NOT going to:

  • Bash anyone involved.
  • Tell them that I hated them.
  • Bomb them or try and kill their family.

I decided that all this hatred was all about nothing.  I watch the news and read the papers and they tell me about the people that hate me: and I hate them back.  I spoke to my wife tonight and said that the world would be a better replace if all these people that hated me were wiped from it… and when I said it, I meant it.  After I said it I got to thinking about why I said it and why I meant it when I said it.

I realised that I didn’t mean it.  I realise no matter how much they hated me I don’t want them to be dead: even if their only reason for living is to want me dead.

I have a great problem in understanding a lot about the world; lately I can not understand when you are the richest person in the world why you want more and don’t use all your money to make other peoples’ lives better; and, I cant understand when you have all the power why you want more; and why you don’t make the world a better place with all your power.

I genuinely believe that most people think this way, yet we let the people that don’t think this way rule our world.  We often pretend that we think like them: this pretending can actually fill an entire life.

I can’t waste my time on hating people.  I am sorry that people hate me, for whatever reason they may hate me.  I am sorry about things that happened in the past that they think makes them hate me and gives then a reason to hate me.  I am sorry for the people that have the power and the money that make other people hate me when I don’t have the power and the money.  Even if really I don’t want the power and the money because I suspect it will make me like them – I could actually lose myself.

I am sick of people hating each other for no reason, or even for a reason.

I ask myself the questions: are they hitting me, killing me, hurting me, hurting my family, making it that I cant live my life the way that I want  Are they in my home, are they stopping me from living my life the way I want to.  Isn’t it true that I actually want them to want all these things that make a good life. I want them to have food, shelter, clothes, a chance at an education, someone to love, something worthwhile to do and something to look forward too.  I critically think about wether I really want them to have those things, the things that I want, and the answer is yes.  So why would I hate them; it would be like hating myself.  So what happens when I think this way and they still hate me.  I don’t think there is a lot I can do about it.  I know hating them back is not the answer.

Hate is such a horrible word, and so over used.  The word hate has a best friend and it is anger.  Although these two words may be loosely thrown together in conversations and the media, I think the connection is always there; are we angry because we hate so much, or are we hateful because we are so angry.

What are we angry about?

Do we get our food, shelter, clothes, a chance at an education, someone to love, something worthwhile to do and something to look forward too….

If the answer is yes, or probably, or I hope so, or even maybe in the future, or perhaps, then that may be good enough.  Come to think of it, that is good enough.

It’s not about the right it’s about the opportunity.

What we have, or what we want is not a right, there really is no entitlement in this life, it is sometimes what we just make the best of.  If we are lucky continually good things splash our way, if we are unlucky, how deep is the shit we can stand – and how can we, if we want to, crawl out of it.  Bearing in mind wallowing and being a victim appear to be ways of life that people often choose when they don’t have to.

But like a lot of things I write about, mainly to myself, it is a matter of choice.  The difficulty is in making the choice.  The choice often doesn’t really matter, as we can justify it anyway, and live with it.  I think the trick is to know that your choice is not only about you.

Perhaps that really is the answer about hatred.  The fact that no matter how you try and hide it, or attribute blame, it really is about you. Anger is about you, hatred is about you, so therefore if you live those things you are just living for you, there really can’t be genuine joy in that life.

I figured it out.  It is not he who dies with the most toys who wins: but he who dies with the most joys.

So maybe being a better man is not all about me.

Better a Racist

Posted on by
3

Well here I go, ready to be slammed, labeled, ostracised and abused.  (I don’t know wether to say sorry in advance or apologise?)

I just watched ‘Gran Torino’ the movie with Clint Eastwood that has more racial vilifications and politically incorrect moments than the David Chappelle Show or a Steady Eddie comedy routine or the latest (not funny) comedy show on SBS Legally Brown.  But, I have worked out that any comedy routine is okay and funny (even if it’s not) if you do it about yourself, or your own race (no matter how stereotypical the joke), or your disability, or your sex…. Just don’t have no white man doing no black joke or misogynistic joke or visa versa!  (I used the word misogynistic just to let you know that if you are a man do not do woman jokes – no matter how funny, I’m taking even if they hilarious – as it means that now and for ever more you hate women, and discriminate against them, and suppress them… be warmed).

Of course, I was thinking about all this after Gran Torino and watching the football a few weeks ago where the biggest story of the day was calling for the heads of players who had ‘defaced’ a poster of two players with the highly scandalous comments of ‘going to the Mardi Gras’ or similar…. The details really aren’t important. I thought it was funny, as it was.

What is important is that I am a white Anglo Saxon male, and it’s probably my fault anyway.

I am sometimes ashamed and often confused at my whiteness.

I read up on political correctness, as I realised not being politically correct was somehow all my fault. In my reading I started to think perhaps it was not created how I thought: perhaps it was not even what I thought. I also wondered how come there are all these politically incorrect jokes, which I think are sometimes really funny, still being created that don’t actually destroy society. Below (I understand if you want to skip it) is the history of political correctness and to tell you the truth – I don’t get how we got from that to this? (sometimes I don’t even know what this is?):

    • Historically the term “politically correct” was used disparagingly, to refer to someone whose loyalty to the Communist Party line overrode compassion, and led to bad politics. It was used by Socialists against Communists, and was meant to separate out Socialists who believed in egalitarian moral ideas from dogmatic Communists who would advocate and defend party positions regardless of their moral substance. Reference – “Uncommon Differences”, The Lion and the Unicorn Journal
    • In the 1970’s according to one version, political correctness actually began as an in-joke on the left: radical students on American campuses acting out an ironic replay of the Bad Old Days BS (Before the Sixties) when every revolutionary groupuscule had a party line about everything. They would address some glaring examples of sexist or racist behaviour by their fellow students in imitation of the tone of voice of the Red Guards or Cultural Revolution Commissar: ‘Not very “politically correct”, Comrade!’ Reference – Hall, S. (1994) “Some ‘Politically Incorrect’ Pathways Through PC”
    • In the 1990’s political correctness is one of the brilliant tools that the American Right developed in the mid–1980s, as part of its demolition of American liberalism…. What the sharpest thinkers on the American Right saw quickly was that by declaring war on the cultural manifestations of liberalism – by levelling the charge of “political correctness” against its exponents – they could discredit the whole political project. —“Words Really are Important, Mr Blunkett”, The Observer (16 December 2001)

I also note that not being politically correct often is used to exclude groups from things, a sort of discrimination for everyone except the minority. But, I wondered considering the above brief and probably not totally correct history if in fact political correctness and racism are both things that we don’t understand.

I was thinking, that surely thinking is a matter for me and only saying or doing can possibly be something wrong, well at least as viewed by the rest of the world as opposed to someone reading my mind.

I got to thinking about my career and realised that I had been called a ‘white cunt’ more times than I had publicly vilified another race, which when I think about it is never. I think about the time I have discriminated against another person, for any reason, and there is a void of examples.

I got to thinking about the time I was having a smoke and was asked by a group of Aboriginal people for one and said I had just popped down from my office with one, and sorry I didn’t have any others. I was called a white cunt, abused and threatened with violence. I rang the Police and the abuser was arrested. I was approached by one of the group afterwards and asked very politely why I had called the Police and I told them. They said they were very sorry it had happened. They stood there for a moment, obviously thinking, and then said, if I hadn’t invaded their country in the first place, and made them speak English, then I couldn’t have been sworn at and I should be ashamed of being a Captain Cook invader. I couldn’t argue with that and went back to my office. I was confused as I did somehow feel guilty. Should my guilt be more than a passing thought or should I be ashamed.

I got to thinking about all the things I am ashamed of for being white.

  • I am ashamed of the Anagu Pitjantjajara Yankunytjatjara (APY) Lands. If you have been there you will know that it is a third world country in the middle of our country and we ignore it.  Also if you only say APY and can’t pronounce the full title – perhaps you should be ashamed.
  • I am ashamed of not being able to identify the difference between sorry and an apology. I am sorry a lot of things happened but how do I apologise for things that happend before I was born and I had no control over. I am more sorry because I have worked on the APY lands.
  • I am ashamed I have never been in a mosque, an Australian Hindu or Buhdist temple, a Synagogue and lately a church.
  • I am ashamed that languages are lost, stories are lost and history is forgotten.
  • I am ashamed I speak only one language.
  • I am ashamed that I don’t know any boat people.
  • I am ashamed that our country is so vast and yet so empty.
  • I am ashamed that maybe the wars the we fought didn’t give us the results they were fought for, other than victory.
  • I am ashamed of multiculturalism, because I don’t know what it means.  I don’t know what Australian culture is either, is it multicultural or are we multi cultures living separate in the one country.  Am I part of the multi cultural society as my ancestors were German or am I Australian – am I an oppressor, an invader?  I cant remember doing any of those thing though? I sorry my ancestors came here and who should I apologise to?

I suppose I could do something, so I am, I am writing this and putting my name to it.

I am saying three men walk into a bar, and they are friends and they take the piss out of each other, because that is being Australian; yet none of them were born in Australia.

I watch the movie ‘They’re a Weird Mob‘ and am grateful that there is no more ‘six o’clock swill’ and laugh at the stereotypes of the era, who when I come to think about it, built our country.

I wonder why ‘Gran Torino’ wasn’t banned and realise it is a movie about values not racism or vilification or hurt feelings.

I want a more peaceful life, but it is often too complicated and filled with messages I don’t understand anymore: perhaps I am just getting to the same point as Walt in Gran Torino. It was what I wrote about What is Being a Man, well, my definition of being a man.   But, it is not about being a man, it is about being part of the human race. It is so much about what we say and not what we do, that in the end we say nothing and do nothing.

Can white men really jump. We can jump to conclusions, we can also jump to the defence of others, we can also jump out of the way and let it all happen because we’ll get blamed for it anyway. Sorry.

I have decided that being a racist, or politically incorrect are not the same thing. I am politically incorrect, but I am also Australian and we give everyone…. Read that everyone, a fair go. That fair go is also about giving it to ourselves, along with an entire diatribe of genuine, heartfelt, witty, funny piss taking.

Call me a ‘snowflake’ a ‘Captain Cook’ a ‘white cunt’ and I’ll reckon you must be a mate, an Australian, as no body takes the piss as good as we do.

But, discriminate against my mate, suppress my mate, threaten my mate, take away my mate’s stuff, hurt my mate and I will defend their wurlie, their tent, their igloo, their adobe, their home…. I will stand by their side and fight for them with all that is mine against any foe.

After all, I am Australian and when we are not taking the piss out of each other we are usually fighting side by side…. And even then we are taking the piss out of each other!

Just one last thing. I am truly sorry. I am sorry that in trying to become a better man I still find it necessary to want the rest of the world to be better as well, albeit accompanied by a good long piss take without filling in a hurt feelings report!

I think I will be a better man by paying more attention to what people do and not what they say: sticks and stones and all that…..

Better at Time Machines

Posted on by
1

As I have been experimenting with my blog, I have been going over recent posts and fixing up any errors. These are usually spelling (Yeah, I know, there are probably still heaps of spelling errors… never was my strong point!) errors or typos. To date in all my reviewing and editing I have left the basis of the content the same.

I have been wondering though, if the time will come that if I no longer believe in something I wrote in the past, I will change it or write a new post to clarify some new position, I now, just as vehemently hold, as I did the one in the past that I originally wrote about.  (I think I understand what I just wrote?)

My problem with changing a previous post is that I feel as if I am cheating my past.

Sounds like a bit of a who cares or so what scenario, but, would it be the same if we suddenly looked in our history books, or old copies of the newspaper and found that the past had somehow changed.  It would be like the changing of history in the novel (and then movie) “1984” by George Orwell.

I suppose it is not the change that troubles me, but, the possibility that it would be accompanied by denial.

But, I think we all create time machines with our memories.  Keeping a blog or a journal is a bit of a reality check on what really did happen – or more to the point, our view of what happened at the time.

Keeping all these records are a good thing unless they just remind you of bad times and bad people.  I suppose that one of the advantages of time passing is that memories and feelings do fade; well most of the time.

I definitely think there is a ‘limitation of time on childhood trauma’ and in saying that I am not saying that bad things didn’t happen that changed and destroyed lives or there weren’t bad people in our lives in the past that may still need to be punished; what I am saying is that there is only one life so why should we let someone or something from our past wreck our future.

In the book Too Soon Old Too Late Smart by Gordon Livingston (a really good read by the way) he goes on to say that we are responsible for most of what happens to us – I am sure this is not always the case, such as when we are kids, but we are most certainly responsible for what we do from that time on.  Most importantly, for me, who lives regret as a daily mantra he said:

“Coming to terms with the past is inevitably a process of forgiveness, of letting go, the simplest and most difficult of human endeavours.  It is simultaneously an act of will and of surrender.  And often seems impossible until the moment we do it.”tardis-in-space-tardis-6289810-1280-768

So maybe the ‘time machine’ is actually in us, we just have to switch it on.

I know one thing, I took his advice a few months ago with someone I had spent an entire lifetime hating.  And I just stopped hating them, I actually forgave them, and I let it go.  It was an act of will and surrender and I really didn’t know what it was like until the actual moment I really (Really!) did it.  Suddenly I was in the Tardis with Dr Who and I did turn back time.  The unfortunate part is that at that same moment I realised how much time I had lost.

Maybe my quest to be a better man is about using the time machine for good not evil.

 

Better News Isn’t Always Good News

Posted on by
Reply

I wrote a post on Facebook the other day which read:

“A little bit of good news can make a big difference in your day”

And, that little bit of good news did make my day a whole lot better.  But, this is my life, remember.  It all collapsed when the little bit of good news turned into a whole lot of unknown bad news.

Don’t you hate that!

So, is it still a good day – yeah, I reckon so.  Why?  Because I’m still here.

I really have this problem in that my bits of bad news are really not that bad, yet they smash me in the head like catastrophes.

Most times nobody dies and most times they are my ‘first world’ type problems.  It’s that perspective thing again – I saw it when I wrote ‘Better Dead‘ and I am trying to live it a bit more; but life does get in the way.

So, my good news, turned bad news, is now just news.  I am still here and my day, week, month, year goes on.  I am sure that most of the rest of the world didn’t really notice me having a shit day.  I know there are lots of other people, some my friends, some just because they are Palestinians, who are having worse days than me – and they have no end in sight, perhaps ever.

Well, I’m still here.