One way to look at life, is that it is the composition of many value judgements – made constantly. Made in moments, in split second intervals; made consciously and unconsciously; influenced by an exceptionally diverse range of things.
These can also be considered, “decisions”. Instincts play a role – a significant role. But I do think it is the sum total of these judgements, the trends in these decisions, the consistencies, that play a big role in the overall scheme of a person’s life. Much more so than the so called “big decisions” or turning points.
I have been thinking about this a lot for a while and find the whole idea pretty fascinating. Human judgement never ceases to surprise me. But I think the exciting idea to grab hold of is that we are constantly making judgements and it is these judgements that unfurl not only the present but the future. The decisions to put yourself in particular environments and company is, in my view, one of the most significant things we are constantly doing - a lot of the time "unconsciously".
Personally, I’m not sure how good a “judge” I am... We all like to think we possess great judgement, but I think the truth is, human judgement wavers wildly. Some of our judgments are based on gut, rebellion, compliance, politics… they are not always informed or “true”. But they are our judgements/ decisions nonetheless.
There is great truth in the saying that “everyone has their reasons.” It’s freedom and tragedy in one. A decision that is utterly perplexing to one person might well make sense to another for very compelling reasons. I am absorbed and intrigued by how different people make decisions. I’m curious as to how I myself make value judgements about other people. I still don’t have a “formula” for how I judge anybody (nor do I think I should - I don't believe life should be formulaic). While I might think I can read and understand a person, it is also important to understand that most people, in their public lives, "act", most of the time, so what you are seeing is a performance, of some description (most of the time).
This is a late night thread to an intricate philosophy… But if anyone cares to share their own thoughts on human judgement, I’m very keen to hear…
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Jive Talkin'
The Jackson Jive – Australia’s hottest new, racially intolerant touring ensemble…
I confess amazement at the furore that the “Jackson Jive” skit, performed on “Hey Hey its Saturday”, generated in international media. In keeping with this hysterical reaction, I’m throwing in my two cents.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zmaF7Pys7OI
My initial response, was that it was mildly amusing; due to, I suppose, the ridiculous presentation. My initial thoughts were not (consciously) “race”; I probably found it slightly more entertaining than several other “red faces” skits I’d wasted my life on over the years – which is not saying a huge amount...
When Harry Connick Jr, the guest judge, reacted the way he did, his remarks momentarily suspended my indolence and I reconsidered the act for a moment (through Harry’s eyes). I figure his objections were within reason and certainly somewhat courageous, on reflection.
The easy thing for him to do would be to toe the line, cringe through it and make a dull joke. But that’s not what he believed and so he stood up and said something. It’s bulltalk to say it was a publicity stunt. He was genuine and I admire him speaking his mind.
And then the whole affair became a media event. If this happened twenty years ago when this skit won red faces (which, is, I think, entirely possible had the “wrong person” been in the judge’s seat), I suspect the whole matter would have “contained” in the moment and any follow-on ruckus neutralised by the apologies that were offered at the time. This reveals the true star in this story – namely, viral video, and the way it perpetuates news in contemporary media.
Rather than bang on about the influence of video, and viral communication though, I’ll focus this blog on the hot issue, which is “blackface” and racism – in the context of an otherwise very innocent, benign skit.
There are good arguments on both sides.
The taboo behind “blackface” in a performance context, is an antiquated but significant symbol of an important resolution in race relations. It is fair to say it was most prominent / significant in America. You can learn more about it here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blackface
When you understand the tradition of “Blackface” a bit better, you can certainly see how the Jackson Jive’s little piece may be interpreted as the regressive resumption of a dead gimmick. And why Harry Connick Jr, raised in New Orleans, in the African-American jazz tradition with many of his close friends and colleagues African American performers - puckered.
There was absolutely nothing wrong with what Harry Connick Jr said – he was right of course, and his sensitivity is understandable. He felt it was out of order and he was true to his internal litmus. Aussie’s shouldn’t get so touchy just because someone expresses an opinion that may run against the common grain. That’s where we show our own immaturity.
However, there was nothing much wrong with the skit, in my view – for the reason that it lacked the necessary ingredients of intent and general awareness which I feel must distinguish racism from everyday insensitivity. It was a classic example of ignorance and misunderstanding.
In defence of the show, I would argue the vast majority of the Australian population has no reference point for the true political significance of this issue. To most, this was a pretty harmless little skit that did not say anything really controversial. That’s my personal view.
It’s also my view that this in itself evinces an embarrassing lack of education. Perhaps if more historical subject matter was taught at school level, it would be reasonable to argue that we should “know better”. I do believe that the amount of history taught at school level is deficient. Learning about the modern history of the world we live in is vital, for not only understanding our fellow man and the different paths nations have walked – but also, because it gives perspective.
Notwithstanding this, I studied history all through school and can’t ever recall bracing this particular issue…
My only personal awareness of “blackface” can be traced back to my remembering the decision to delete the “golliwog” character from Enid Blyton’s “Noddy” books – which I had read the print off as a tot. I remember when that decision was made in the 90’s thinking it was PC gone mad. Of course, “Golliwog” was a relic from the blackface tradition too, and it makes a bit more sense now, why they wanted to bury that character…
However, we do have to beware the political correctness illusion - particularly when it comes to comedy. It is vital we retain the ability to laugh at ourselves. Especially as Australians – we have much to laugh about, and we needn’t get so anxious for others to like us and our culture that we lose our sense of humour and can’t be criticised and jibed. Likewise the Americans, the Brits - everyone.
One of my favourite all time comics, is American, Don Rickles. Although commonly referred to as an “insult comic”, the tag is something of a misnomer, because there was a virtuosity in his venom. Check out his “roast” of Sammy Davis Jr here, for a sample:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XUcEQvU6LPE
In the context of this debate, this particular clip with Sammy Davis is very interesting.
It shows the great spirit this era of entertainers approached performance with and their great ability to laugh at themselves. A modern audience may be shocked at how “cutting” some of the humour was. But it was so very clever – and it was not malicious. It is so important we retain something of this. Skin colour and ethnicity is not important – which is the very reason it should be joked about – in the right spirit. Laughter and good humour is vital…
Other little observations of the Jive circus:
I noticed John Blackman, the V/O man and the best comedian in the “Hey Hey” outfit for mine, utters under his breath “uh – oh” almost as the act is introduced. A gut instinct that perfectly predicted the “sh1tstorm” to follow…
I think the timing of the skit in the wake of Jackson’s death may have been a trifling poor in taste, but in another way, it was these guys quirky expression of their love for the music…
Poor Jacki McDonald, the other co judge, was reluctant to even be involved in the show’s reunion and declined an earlier invitation. She has now found herself painted as the airy, “ignorant Australian”…
But finally, I would argue that one of the charming things about “Hey Hey…” is its “moments of purity”. It’s stumbles and its politically incorrect moments. There is vastly more patronising and offensive material on television than this. Satire and comedy is an important leveller and political correctness (PC) must be tempered, if not flattened, or we all run the risk of talkin’ nothing but jive.
I confess amazement at the furore that the “Jackson Jive” skit, performed on “Hey Hey its Saturday”, generated in international media. In keeping with this hysterical reaction, I’m throwing in my two cents.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zmaF7Pys7OI
My initial response, was that it was mildly amusing; due to, I suppose, the ridiculous presentation. My initial thoughts were not (consciously) “race”; I probably found it slightly more entertaining than several other “red faces” skits I’d wasted my life on over the years – which is not saying a huge amount...
When Harry Connick Jr, the guest judge, reacted the way he did, his remarks momentarily suspended my indolence and I reconsidered the act for a moment (through Harry’s eyes). I figure his objections were within reason and certainly somewhat courageous, on reflection.
The easy thing for him to do would be to toe the line, cringe through it and make a dull joke. But that’s not what he believed and so he stood up and said something. It’s bulltalk to say it was a publicity stunt. He was genuine and I admire him speaking his mind.
And then the whole affair became a media event. If this happened twenty years ago when this skit won red faces (which, is, I think, entirely possible had the “wrong person” been in the judge’s seat), I suspect the whole matter would have “contained” in the moment and any follow-on ruckus neutralised by the apologies that were offered at the time. This reveals the true star in this story – namely, viral video, and the way it perpetuates news in contemporary media.
Rather than bang on about the influence of video, and viral communication though, I’ll focus this blog on the hot issue, which is “blackface” and racism – in the context of an otherwise very innocent, benign skit.
There are good arguments on both sides.
The taboo behind “blackface” in a performance context, is an antiquated but significant symbol of an important resolution in race relations. It is fair to say it was most prominent / significant in America. You can learn more about it here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blackface
When you understand the tradition of “Blackface” a bit better, you can certainly see how the Jackson Jive’s little piece may be interpreted as the regressive resumption of a dead gimmick. And why Harry Connick Jr, raised in New Orleans, in the African-American jazz tradition with many of his close friends and colleagues African American performers - puckered.
There was absolutely nothing wrong with what Harry Connick Jr said – he was right of course, and his sensitivity is understandable. He felt it was out of order and he was true to his internal litmus. Aussie’s shouldn’t get so touchy just because someone expresses an opinion that may run against the common grain. That’s where we show our own immaturity.
However, there was nothing much wrong with the skit, in my view – for the reason that it lacked the necessary ingredients of intent and general awareness which I feel must distinguish racism from everyday insensitivity. It was a classic example of ignorance and misunderstanding.
In defence of the show, I would argue the vast majority of the Australian population has no reference point for the true political significance of this issue. To most, this was a pretty harmless little skit that did not say anything really controversial. That’s my personal view.
It’s also my view that this in itself evinces an embarrassing lack of education. Perhaps if more historical subject matter was taught at school level, it would be reasonable to argue that we should “know better”. I do believe that the amount of history taught at school level is deficient. Learning about the modern history of the world we live in is vital, for not only understanding our fellow man and the different paths nations have walked – but also, because it gives perspective.
Notwithstanding this, I studied history all through school and can’t ever recall bracing this particular issue…
My only personal awareness of “blackface” can be traced back to my remembering the decision to delete the “golliwog” character from Enid Blyton’s “Noddy” books – which I had read the print off as a tot. I remember when that decision was made in the 90’s thinking it was PC gone mad. Of course, “Golliwog” was a relic from the blackface tradition too, and it makes a bit more sense now, why they wanted to bury that character…
However, we do have to beware the political correctness illusion - particularly when it comes to comedy. It is vital we retain the ability to laugh at ourselves. Especially as Australians – we have much to laugh about, and we needn’t get so anxious for others to like us and our culture that we lose our sense of humour and can’t be criticised and jibed. Likewise the Americans, the Brits - everyone.
One of my favourite all time comics, is American, Don Rickles. Although commonly referred to as an “insult comic”, the tag is something of a misnomer, because there was a virtuosity in his venom. Check out his “roast” of Sammy Davis Jr here, for a sample:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XUcEQvU6LPE
In the context of this debate, this particular clip with Sammy Davis is very interesting.
It shows the great spirit this era of entertainers approached performance with and their great ability to laugh at themselves. A modern audience may be shocked at how “cutting” some of the humour was. But it was so very clever – and it was not malicious. It is so important we retain something of this. Skin colour and ethnicity is not important – which is the very reason it should be joked about – in the right spirit. Laughter and good humour is vital…
Other little observations of the Jive circus:
I noticed John Blackman, the V/O man and the best comedian in the “Hey Hey” outfit for mine, utters under his breath “uh – oh” almost as the act is introduced. A gut instinct that perfectly predicted the “sh1tstorm” to follow…
I think the timing of the skit in the wake of Jackson’s death may have been a trifling poor in taste, but in another way, it was these guys quirky expression of their love for the music…
Poor Jacki McDonald, the other co judge, was reluctant to even be involved in the show’s reunion and declined an earlier invitation. She has now found herself painted as the airy, “ignorant Australian”…
But finally, I would argue that one of the charming things about “Hey Hey…” is its “moments of purity”. It’s stumbles and its politically incorrect moments. There is vastly more patronising and offensive material on television than this. Satire and comedy is an important leveller and political correctness (PC) must be tempered, if not flattened, or we all run the risk of talkin’ nothing but jive.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
End of an Era? Definitely Maybe.
One of the first groups I got into as a pre-pubescent 12 year old, was Oasis. It fell somewhere between the outro of the “Definitely Maybe” album and the curtain call for “What’s the Story Moring Glory” – which really broke, in Australia, in 1996 - my first year in high school.
I was a big fan. Oasis was mega in 1996. It was almost a cliché, of course, to be a fan of Oasis in 1996...
Run forward several years and I find myself working with a band called “Royal Engineers”, which some of my good friends have formed. Great musicians and artists. They had an “oasis like” sound - which they got criticised for , frequently (and unreasonably, in my opinion).
Big, swarming guitars. Psychedelic in parts. And the rock n roll lifestyle and ethos to match… They were one of the better and more important rock bands to arrive in the Brisbane music scene circa 2004 / 2005 – without a doubt (in my biased view).
We listened to Oasis a lot through those lively years, too, of course…
The other week I heard Noel left Oasis and they broke up. Oasis have been producing awesome rock n roll (and great music for that matter), for a good while. I suppose it was time. I guess the natural thought is that Noel will come into his own and Liam may suffer. But who knows...
The important thing is the band's musical legacy - some great, GREAT, rock n roll.
I saw them in 2005, with some of the Royal Engineers, in fact. It was a very fun night.
“Definitely Maybe” is still one album I play all the time.
If I ever need a “lift” before a night out or something, I'll drop on “Definitely Maybe”. I'm still mad fer it.
I was a big fan. Oasis was mega in 1996. It was almost a cliché, of course, to be a fan of Oasis in 1996...
Run forward several years and I find myself working with a band called “Royal Engineers”, which some of my good friends have formed. Great musicians and artists. They had an “oasis like” sound - which they got criticised for , frequently (and unreasonably, in my opinion).
Big, swarming guitars. Psychedelic in parts. And the rock n roll lifestyle and ethos to match… They were one of the better and more important rock bands to arrive in the Brisbane music scene circa 2004 / 2005 – without a doubt (in my biased view).
We listened to Oasis a lot through those lively years, too, of course…
The other week I heard Noel left Oasis and they broke up. Oasis have been producing awesome rock n roll (and great music for that matter), for a good while. I suppose it was time. I guess the natural thought is that Noel will come into his own and Liam may suffer. But who knows...
The important thing is the band's musical legacy - some great, GREAT, rock n roll.
I saw them in 2005, with some of the Royal Engineers, in fact. It was a very fun night.
“Definitely Maybe” is still one album I play all the time.
If I ever need a “lift” before a night out or something, I'll drop on “Definitely Maybe”. I'm still mad fer it.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
From brothel to baby clinic
I regularly drive through the junction at Woolloongabba in Brisbane where Annerley Road intersects Stanley Street.
The Mater hospital occupies one corner. The Clarence Corner Hotel is on another. And an arcade of scummy, heritage façades housing all manner of zany establishments’ “tees the square”.
Sitting at the traffic lights you see the patients from the Mater stumble across as the alcoholics come out of the Clarence (at all hours), also stumbling, and an eclectic parade fumbles about for an “eclectic meal” in one of the beaten up diners…
Nestled amongst this “cluster” is an amusing example of irony as you are likely to find.
A building that, since time immemorial, housed strip joints and prior to that brothels, is now a baby clinic called “arrivals”.
Formerly “Bad Girls”, the boarded up, brooding, jet black walls have made way for full length windows and a “starched nappy” white paintjob.
The irony is never lost on me and I chuckle every time I go past it. Bob Dylan would call it a "simple twist of fate". Quite a nice one, I reckon...
The Mater hospital occupies one corner. The Clarence Corner Hotel is on another. And an arcade of scummy, heritage façades housing all manner of zany establishments’ “tees the square”.
Sitting at the traffic lights you see the patients from the Mater stumble across as the alcoholics come out of the Clarence (at all hours), also stumbling, and an eclectic parade fumbles about for an “eclectic meal” in one of the beaten up diners…
Nestled amongst this “cluster” is an amusing example of irony as you are likely to find.
A building that, since time immemorial, housed strip joints and prior to that brothels, is now a baby clinic called “arrivals”.
Formerly “Bad Girls”, the boarded up, brooding, jet black walls have made way for full length windows and a “starched nappy” white paintjob.
The irony is never lost on me and I chuckle every time I go past it. Bob Dylan would call it a "simple twist of fate". Quite a nice one, I reckon...
Monday, September 21, 2009
TECHNOLOGY AND TRAVEL
Brown eyed beauty is
daring to sail,
alight with the tide
and arrive with the mail,
elope with the slope
and return via rail,
circle the compass
on a mercury trail.
Send her my words on an infinite tablet,
receive back her vision, swift
"click"
and I'll have it.
daring to sail,
alight with the tide
and arrive with the mail,
elope with the slope
and return via rail,
circle the compass
on a mercury trail.
Send her my words on an infinite tablet,
receive back her vision, swift
"click"
and I'll have it.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Weekend at Finucan’s
A beach camping trip involving seventeen (count ‘em – 1 7 ) youngish lads is potentially a logistical, degenerate nightmare; but this one went off without a hitch. In fact, the word “seamless” is appropriate. Kudos to the planners.
The weekend was to “celebrate” one of our brood, whom we shall call “Finucan” – making a journey into married life in the coming months.
It was to be a long weekend – Friday through Monday. I couldn’t get there Friday arv, but several of the boys that did, gave it a solid nudge in Noosa that night, sampling a murder of local brews.
Apparently one of our tribe also made himself affectionately known to a couple of the local elders, who, given their age, may well have been traditional landowners. An Olympian effort.
I met the rest of the boys further south at the Etamogarah pub early on the Saturday morning where a game of paintball “skirmish” had been organised to get the trip underway.
The first thing I noticed on the walk into the skirmish gates, was that the standard of conversation had slipped very quickly. Rapid deterioration in conversation quality is a naturally occurring phenomenon on these kinds of “sabbaticals”, but I must confess to a degree of surprise at how rough it was, so early, having not yet pitched a tent.
Needless to say, the chat stayed at a pretty base level the whole trip…
I had never played skirmish before, but had more fun getting dressed up in army greens and running into the scrub to shoot paint bullets travelling at 300 feet / sec - than I thought I would.
It’s pretty damn amusing and you do get your warface on. Of course, we all got a decent caning and there was plenty of hail damage in the form of blue / yellow bruises and hickey like broken capillaries sprayed across our bodies at the end of it.
One of the guys looked like he had the worst ringworm infestation of all time…
After skirmish, we returned to Noosa where Finucan was asked to get dressed in his weekend attire – pink boots, purple top hat and lycra leotard.
After a princely lunch on buckets of KFC and tubes of coke, we loaded up the convoy, 6 fourbies in total, took the barge across the Noosa River and drove up the Northshore for about 15 clicks.
There’s a great feeling of freedom cruising up the beach in the car - it’s great fun. It’d been a few years since I’d last been over to the Northshore and I had forgotten what a great, rugged expanse of beach it is.
Camp was established with a minimum of fuss though three of our cars (including mine) initially missed the spot and went half a dozen k’s further up the beach than required. Nonetheless, a relaxing way to cruise through a Saturday afternoon.
One of the highlights of the Saturday night, apart from the company and the conversation of course, was the fire. In addition to the four heaving great bags of firewood we purchased earlier in the night, we managed to torch a pretty substantial amount of Northshore deadwood. The result was an awesome fire - one of the best I have ever been a part of…
Honourable mention must also be made of one of our greenthumb mates, who monitored and built the fire with sterling expertise.
Given the size and volume of some of the flora (dead of course - mostly...) being harvested from the dunes on a regular basis throughout the night, fears of soil erosion and sandslide were legitimate. However these were warmly soothed by the toasting blaze we had erupting in front of us.
One of the things that did become obvious that night was the discrepancy in musical tastes that has grown more defined as the years have rolled forward. So intolerant were we of each others choices in music, I conspired a drinking game where people had to guess songs and sing them. When this ran out of legs, we settled for passing the ipod on after every song for someone else’s selection...
I have always felt that camp fires are for sing-alongs so the ol' Don McLean classic “American Pie”, was my first choice. Never fails to bring a chorus of bad voices.
I'd left the pump for my air mattress at home, so subsequently spent a good hour at least, fireside, breathing hard into the bugger to get it sleepworthy. Blowing up the mattress had "taken the wind out of me", so I thought I would briefly test it - fireside.
With a few ales in my gullet slowly dissolving the fillet steak sandwich (cuisine for the weekend was exclusively carnivorous, with the exception of the “eggs” on the B & E rolls), an air of contentment overcame me and I drifted away.
The tranquility was not to last.
Ignoring the fact that many of our other crew had also “retired”, one of my intoxicated scumbag mates thought it a nice idea to start ripping my leg hairs out to stir me awake… It took several ripped “clumps”, before I realised what was happening. Awaking from a very pleasurable nap, to find someone going to town on the follicles on your calves with thumb and index finger is not a recipe for a pleasant reaction. I was not a happy camper.
“Steaming” is the right word in this case. And “steaming” is what we both almost were, as we briefly wrestled to within an inch of the inferno…
Following that little incident, I was wide awake again and ended up talking drivel into the wee hours with one of my old pals of South African lineage who has demonstrated legendarily consistent staying power at these kinds of gatherings over the years…
On the Sunday we got in the cars and went further up the beach to cut across inland to Double Island Point. This is truly a beautiful spot.
With the “coloured sands” running down towards Rainbow Beach, the scene resembles a giant orange cake crumbling into the ocean. Stretching up the other way, coffee rocks line the shoreline up to the headland.
Most of the guys swam out to Double Island to play touch footy, while five of us hopscotched along the rocky beach in one of the guy’s Landcruisers up toward the headland and did a little trek / rockclimb around its front. A highlight.
The break off this point is also pretty impressive. A longboarder nabbed a cushy 300 m ride while we were there.
About half of us, including yours truly, regrettably, had to return on the Sunday arv… (If only to cover the sizeable financial hit we all took to purchase the remainder of the 2009 inventory at the Diageo liquor company). By all reports, the survivors chalked up more good times on the Monday.
In sum, a great time had, more memories made, and Finucan’s march towards married life has been toasted appropriately.
I guess one of the standout things is that all seventeen of us on this trip were in the same senior year, at the same high school together. I think that’s pretty exceptional. It will be ten years since we finished next year and I think we all realise, and appreciate, how rare it is to have the bond that we do. We are all really quite different too, which makes it all the better.
Get togethers such as this happen with less frequency as the years burn through, but great friendships need little stoking anyway.
The weekend was to “celebrate” one of our brood, whom we shall call “Finucan” – making a journey into married life in the coming months.
It was to be a long weekend – Friday through Monday. I couldn’t get there Friday arv, but several of the boys that did, gave it a solid nudge in Noosa that night, sampling a murder of local brews.
Apparently one of our tribe also made himself affectionately known to a couple of the local elders, who, given their age, may well have been traditional landowners. An Olympian effort.
I met the rest of the boys further south at the Etamogarah pub early on the Saturday morning where a game of paintball “skirmish” had been organised to get the trip underway.
The first thing I noticed on the walk into the skirmish gates, was that the standard of conversation had slipped very quickly. Rapid deterioration in conversation quality is a naturally occurring phenomenon on these kinds of “sabbaticals”, but I must confess to a degree of surprise at how rough it was, so early, having not yet pitched a tent.
Needless to say, the chat stayed at a pretty base level the whole trip…
I had never played skirmish before, but had more fun getting dressed up in army greens and running into the scrub to shoot paint bullets travelling at 300 feet / sec - than I thought I would.
It’s pretty damn amusing and you do get your warface on. Of course, we all got a decent caning and there was plenty of hail damage in the form of blue / yellow bruises and hickey like broken capillaries sprayed across our bodies at the end of it.
One of the guys looked like he had the worst ringworm infestation of all time…
After skirmish, we returned to Noosa where Finucan was asked to get dressed in his weekend attire – pink boots, purple top hat and lycra leotard.
After a princely lunch on buckets of KFC and tubes of coke, we loaded up the convoy, 6 fourbies in total, took the barge across the Noosa River and drove up the Northshore for about 15 clicks.
There’s a great feeling of freedom cruising up the beach in the car - it’s great fun. It’d been a few years since I’d last been over to the Northshore and I had forgotten what a great, rugged expanse of beach it is.
Camp was established with a minimum of fuss though three of our cars (including mine) initially missed the spot and went half a dozen k’s further up the beach than required. Nonetheless, a relaxing way to cruise through a Saturday afternoon.
One of the highlights of the Saturday night, apart from the company and the conversation of course, was the fire. In addition to the four heaving great bags of firewood we purchased earlier in the night, we managed to torch a pretty substantial amount of Northshore deadwood. The result was an awesome fire - one of the best I have ever been a part of…
Honourable mention must also be made of one of our greenthumb mates, who monitored and built the fire with sterling expertise.
Given the size and volume of some of the flora (dead of course - mostly...) being harvested from the dunes on a regular basis throughout the night, fears of soil erosion and sandslide were legitimate. However these were warmly soothed by the toasting blaze we had erupting in front of us.
One of the things that did become obvious that night was the discrepancy in musical tastes that has grown more defined as the years have rolled forward. So intolerant were we of each others choices in music, I conspired a drinking game where people had to guess songs and sing them. When this ran out of legs, we settled for passing the ipod on after every song for someone else’s selection...
I have always felt that camp fires are for sing-alongs so the ol' Don McLean classic “American Pie”, was my first choice. Never fails to bring a chorus of bad voices.
I'd left the pump for my air mattress at home, so subsequently spent a good hour at least, fireside, breathing hard into the bugger to get it sleepworthy. Blowing up the mattress had "taken the wind out of me", so I thought I would briefly test it - fireside.
With a few ales in my gullet slowly dissolving the fillet steak sandwich (cuisine for the weekend was exclusively carnivorous, with the exception of the “eggs” on the B & E rolls), an air of contentment overcame me and I drifted away.
The tranquility was not to last.
Ignoring the fact that many of our other crew had also “retired”, one of my intoxicated scumbag mates thought it a nice idea to start ripping my leg hairs out to stir me awake… It took several ripped “clumps”, before I realised what was happening. Awaking from a very pleasurable nap, to find someone going to town on the follicles on your calves with thumb and index finger is not a recipe for a pleasant reaction. I was not a happy camper.
“Steaming” is the right word in this case. And “steaming” is what we both almost were, as we briefly wrestled to within an inch of the inferno…
Following that little incident, I was wide awake again and ended up talking drivel into the wee hours with one of my old pals of South African lineage who has demonstrated legendarily consistent staying power at these kinds of gatherings over the years…
On the Sunday we got in the cars and went further up the beach to cut across inland to Double Island Point. This is truly a beautiful spot.
With the “coloured sands” running down towards Rainbow Beach, the scene resembles a giant orange cake crumbling into the ocean. Stretching up the other way, coffee rocks line the shoreline up to the headland.
Most of the guys swam out to Double Island to play touch footy, while five of us hopscotched along the rocky beach in one of the guy’s Landcruisers up toward the headland and did a little trek / rockclimb around its front. A highlight.
The break off this point is also pretty impressive. A longboarder nabbed a cushy 300 m ride while we were there.
About half of us, including yours truly, regrettably, had to return on the Sunday arv… (If only to cover the sizeable financial hit we all took to purchase the remainder of the 2009 inventory at the Diageo liquor company). By all reports, the survivors chalked up more good times on the Monday.
In sum, a great time had, more memories made, and Finucan’s march towards married life has been toasted appropriately.
I guess one of the standout things is that all seventeen of us on this trip were in the same senior year, at the same high school together. I think that’s pretty exceptional. It will be ten years since we finished next year and I think we all realise, and appreciate, how rare it is to have the bond that we do. We are all really quite different too, which makes it all the better.
Get togethers such as this happen with less frequency as the years burn through, but great friendships need little stoking anyway.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Mum turns 50
My mum will turn 50 on Wednesday. In light of this, I thought I would dedicate this blog to her.
She is a bit of a wonderwoman my mum.
Generous, caring, intelligent, hardworking and giving to her family and those that come into her life - in an immense way. I owe her so much I feel like the "life debt" equivalent of Bernie Madoff...
We had a dinner party for mum last Fri night with family and wonderful friends. I gave a toast at that, so rather than try and write too much of something new, I have cut and pasted the notes I made for that toast... (If only for the reason that I found writing any notes about mum difficult in the first place). Like most of the speeches / addresses I have given in my life, this was bashed out at the 11th hour, in the half an hour before the party.
Words will always be insufficient in some contexts though (like these). Suffice to say I love my mum a great deal and think I struck absolute gold to be born to a mum such as mine. I hope I get to have her around for at least another 50.
A Toast to Mum
It’s a pleasure to be able to say a few words about mum on behalf of my brothers Andy and Robert.
Though I must preface by saying that it’s really hard to reduce to words the feelings I guess we all have towards our mums. It should be the easiest thing in the world but words like “grateful” really don’t cut it.
So despite staring into space for a long while thinking about words I could use to pay tribute to my mum, I will say just a few things.
Andy, Robert and I know we have a pretty amazing, special and unique mum.
And that knowledge is consistently affirmed by the many other people who know mum, many of whom are in the room tonight, who feel the same way about her, and regularly make comment to us about her.
In fact I have been receiving comments about mum my whole life.
I vividly recall the follow up from mum’s occasional visits to school to drop off a forgotten lunch, hat or shoe as the case may be, and being queried by students, and teachers, alike - right up until I left school in fact - as to whether mum was really my mum or my sister. When I gave them the answer this was invariably followed by a look of astonishment and various exclamations...
But mum’s youthful appearance has more to do with her genes than an easy lifestyle. Mum has an incredible work ethic and has achieved an enormous amount in her career, of which we as her sons are immensely proud. She has provided a great example in giving something your best.
What is most significant about Mum’s tireless efforts of course is that it has been selfless, in the name of giving the three of us every opportunity in life. She did from a young age, stress balance – the need to work hard and play hard and try not to mix the two – sage counsel – although she herself does not take as much time as she should, for herself.
One of the first things you notice about Mum is that she is a bit of a force of nature. She does move around the world - at pace.
Another thing that immediately strikes you about mum is her personality. Mum is a happy person, a vibrant and caring person and she immediately lifts a room and peoples spirits, just by being present.
Whether or not it is the country girl hangover or not, mum is forthcoming and conversational with everyone. And I mean everyone. She can start a topic with any person – and I mean, any person. And the conversation could go for hours. And I mean hours.
But as we know, this is one of mum’s charming qualities and she is without question immensely popular with many people, old and young, rich and poor, because of it.
Being a clean living, highly moral and modest person, there really are not too many dark secrets to drag out on a night like this. Mum does of course, have one or two quirks of character. Subtle quirks. I will list these in alphabetical order.
A.
No I won’t do that…
Mums flaws and quirks are in fact strengths.
She is an intense worrier about everyone and everything. Which simply reveals the fact that she cares about others. She is a sensitive person.
She is a prolific talker. I may have alluded to this earlier. As I have mentioned though, mum has a tremendous personality which is a reflection of a tremendous mind.
She is an incessant tea drinker. A plantation a year at least. I’m not sure what the redeeming feature of this vice is, but anti-oxidants spring to mind.
She also has one of the most prodigious collections of self-help books I have every encountered.
Which can only mean that she is closing in on complete enlightenment…
Really though mum, in the eyes of Andy, Rob and I you are flawless.
I once heard someone remark that people can choose to live their lives either as creators of opportunities for themselves and others and creators of happiness; or, as conquerors, people who diminish and dominate.
By this definition, mum is one of the great creative people I know. Always thinking of others – empathetic to the needs and feelings of those around her and exceptionally generous. Mum’s personal indulgences are very few - but I do hope she can enjoy a few more of these in the coming years.
None of the traditional clichés about turning 50 apply to you mum. You are young at heart, young in mind and in body. And I know that the best years are ahead.
Andy, Robert and I love you dearly and cannot thank you enough for everything you’ve done for us – and we wish you every happiness on this birthday.
Robert, in his absence, has also wanted to make the statement that he sincerely apologises for not being born of the fairer sex. He knows how much you wanted a daughter. He did say though that he will do his best to produce a daughter you can look after in retirement…
I would like to propose a toast – to you Mum and to the wonderful life you’ve lived so far and to the years ahead.
“To Christine”
She is a bit of a wonderwoman my mum.
Generous, caring, intelligent, hardworking and giving to her family and those that come into her life - in an immense way. I owe her so much I feel like the "life debt" equivalent of Bernie Madoff...
We had a dinner party for mum last Fri night with family and wonderful friends. I gave a toast at that, so rather than try and write too much of something new, I have cut and pasted the notes I made for that toast... (If only for the reason that I found writing any notes about mum difficult in the first place). Like most of the speeches / addresses I have given in my life, this was bashed out at the 11th hour, in the half an hour before the party.
Words will always be insufficient in some contexts though (like these). Suffice to say I love my mum a great deal and think I struck absolute gold to be born to a mum such as mine. I hope I get to have her around for at least another 50.
A Toast to Mum
It’s a pleasure to be able to say a few words about mum on behalf of my brothers Andy and Robert.
Though I must preface by saying that it’s really hard to reduce to words the feelings I guess we all have towards our mums. It should be the easiest thing in the world but words like “grateful” really don’t cut it.
So despite staring into space for a long while thinking about words I could use to pay tribute to my mum, I will say just a few things.
Andy, Robert and I know we have a pretty amazing, special and unique mum.
And that knowledge is consistently affirmed by the many other people who know mum, many of whom are in the room tonight, who feel the same way about her, and regularly make comment to us about her.
In fact I have been receiving comments about mum my whole life.
I vividly recall the follow up from mum’s occasional visits to school to drop off a forgotten lunch, hat or shoe as the case may be, and being queried by students, and teachers, alike - right up until I left school in fact - as to whether mum was really my mum or my sister. When I gave them the answer this was invariably followed by a look of astonishment and various exclamations...
But mum’s youthful appearance has more to do with her genes than an easy lifestyle. Mum has an incredible work ethic and has achieved an enormous amount in her career, of which we as her sons are immensely proud. She has provided a great example in giving something your best.
What is most significant about Mum’s tireless efforts of course is that it has been selfless, in the name of giving the three of us every opportunity in life. She did from a young age, stress balance – the need to work hard and play hard and try not to mix the two – sage counsel – although she herself does not take as much time as she should, for herself.
One of the first things you notice about Mum is that she is a bit of a force of nature. She does move around the world - at pace.
Another thing that immediately strikes you about mum is her personality. Mum is a happy person, a vibrant and caring person and she immediately lifts a room and peoples spirits, just by being present.
Whether or not it is the country girl hangover or not, mum is forthcoming and conversational with everyone. And I mean everyone. She can start a topic with any person – and I mean, any person. And the conversation could go for hours. And I mean hours.
But as we know, this is one of mum’s charming qualities and she is without question immensely popular with many people, old and young, rich and poor, because of it.
Being a clean living, highly moral and modest person, there really are not too many dark secrets to drag out on a night like this. Mum does of course, have one or two quirks of character. Subtle quirks. I will list these in alphabetical order.
A.
No I won’t do that…
Mums flaws and quirks are in fact strengths.
She is an intense worrier about everyone and everything. Which simply reveals the fact that she cares about others. She is a sensitive person.
She is a prolific talker. I may have alluded to this earlier. As I have mentioned though, mum has a tremendous personality which is a reflection of a tremendous mind.
She is an incessant tea drinker. A plantation a year at least. I’m not sure what the redeeming feature of this vice is, but anti-oxidants spring to mind.
She also has one of the most prodigious collections of self-help books I have every encountered.
Which can only mean that she is closing in on complete enlightenment…
Really though mum, in the eyes of Andy, Rob and I you are flawless.
I once heard someone remark that people can choose to live their lives either as creators of opportunities for themselves and others and creators of happiness; or, as conquerors, people who diminish and dominate.
By this definition, mum is one of the great creative people I know. Always thinking of others – empathetic to the needs and feelings of those around her and exceptionally generous. Mum’s personal indulgences are very few - but I do hope she can enjoy a few more of these in the coming years.
None of the traditional clichés about turning 50 apply to you mum. You are young at heart, young in mind and in body. And I know that the best years are ahead.
Andy, Robert and I love you dearly and cannot thank you enough for everything you’ve done for us – and we wish you every happiness on this birthday.
Robert, in his absence, has also wanted to make the statement that he sincerely apologises for not being born of the fairer sex. He knows how much you wanted a daughter. He did say though that he will do his best to produce a daughter you can look after in retirement…
I would like to propose a toast – to you Mum and to the wonderful life you’ve lived so far and to the years ahead.
“To Christine”
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