I've Had Better Weeks...

A rough few weeks, but I'm determined that better days are coming!!

Hi Readers,

It has been a little while since my last post, and I've just had trouble trying to find the motivation to put pen to paper (remember when we once did that??!!!)

Without a doubt I have had loads of ideas to write about, just each bike ride or walk around the streets of Melbourne gives me incentive to comment on the things I see and hear, but for the past two weeks the motivation to get off my bum and actually do it has waned somewhat.

Hopefully by doing this post today I will get my mojo back !!!

If you've read my other posts, you'll recall that I read two books by Hugh Van Cuylenburg which deal with Empathy, Gratitude and Mindfulness.

These books, and his podcast (The Imperfects) have had an enormous impact on me, and there is no way that I'd be prepared to share some of the thoughts that I do in this blog had I not read them first.

Just have a read/listen yourself and you'll get what I mean.

In my previous post I told you "The Exuberator" story, involving my sister Anne.

Sadly, Anne passed away soon after I wrote that, after a long battle with cancer.

While Anne was very aware of the seriousness of her illness, for two years or so you would never have realised the fight she was going through. She was one who always turned the attention away from herself and made sure the focus was on who she was with.

If anything, she would often joke about the seriousness of the disease, the treatment she was going through and the way that she struggled getting the myriad of tablets down each day. 

Who else could have us rolling in laughter as she told us the tales she experienced while having her chemo. She might have been as sick as a dog, but would not let this prevent her from seeing the positive side of every negative experience.

One could not help but laugh with her as she just refused to let this diagnosis consume her life, a life that was rich and full right up until her last days.

I saw this painted on the footpath in Vancouver a few years ago, something that has always resonated with me since.  I often discussed this with Anne, and it sums up her approach to life perfectly.

Anne, by her own admission was a terrible cook. But I would disagree.

Every family gathering she would make this potato dish that had cream, mushrooms and goodness knows what else was in it. It could have had DDT and swamp sludge in it for all I care, but it was LEGENDARY!!!

We knew it had a packet of soup in it, so we just called it 'MSG Potatoes'.

No BBQ was complete without it, and probably no digestive system was safe from it!! 

Think of those foods that are even better when served as leftovers, and this is it.

A few of us have tried to make it ourselves, and as you'd guess they all paled in comparison.

So now there are two dishes that we all just love, and even though we have the recipes, only the original cooks can perfect them:

1. Mum's Chocolate Pudding

2. Anne's MSG Potatoes.

As I have been on leave from my job since August 2021 (More about that later in this post) one of the things that I could do regularly was pop around to Anne's place for a cuppa as she lived just around the corner. Usually she couldn't have a coffee but that didn't stop her from making one for me.

Whenever my wife (Jenny) and I had been away overseas, on local holidays or on extended trips away for sport with our boys we would always come home to find that Anne had cooked a meal ( usually her unbelievable fried rice, noodles and veges and the legendary MSG Potatoes) and left it in the fridge, along with some fresh bread and milk.

The last thing you want to do when getting home late from a long time away is cook a meal, and Anne just knew this and always had one there for us. We've never asked for this, but we always made sure we were grateful for it.

So, as Anne's illness began to take a greater hold on her, and I was on leave, it was just an experience of joy and love that I was able to cook regular meals for her each week and take them around for her and Col. As I'm a chronic "Over cooker", meaning that I cook way too much for a meal, these dishes would often last Anne and Col a few days at least.

They weren't that flash, but at least I was able to feel that I was giving a bit of payback for all the times that she had looked out for us.

By doing this I quickly discovered the difference between cooking a meal, and cooking a meal FOR someone. I knew who it was for and why I was doing it, so it was cooked with an abundance of one extra ingredient. Love.

Another setback...

As some of you might already know, there is another person in my family going through a serious health issue as we speak (or should that be 'read'??) which is why I have been on leave since August last year, and will continue to be so for the foreseeable future.

This is where the books by Hugh Van Cuylenburg have been of enormous help to me. How ironic it is that Anne gave me his first book to read and I sat it in our study for weeks and only started reading it once this health issue escalated. Perfect timing Anne!!!!

                                                                                         Book 1

Book 2

The Podcast

Before reading these and continuing with the Podcasts, I can't see that I'd write the things I am writing today as I'd be too fearful of ridicule. But now, couldn't really be worried as all they are, are just my thoughts, experiences and reflections.

They can't offend others, so any ridicule just means that those people have the problem, not me. I only say this as it has happened in the past. I've been ridiculed for having a blog, and for telling stories, and putting these things out there. 

Putting myself out there.

Is it so different to telling these stories verbally at a bbq or when out with friends?

Plus, I enjoy the writing and the therapy it avails to me at a time when I have a bit going on in my life.

I probably have too much time to think at the moment, especially after the passing of Anne, and the current illness in my family. My day is broken up by a 2 hour visit to ICU and then I'm on my own. 

This is where I have really come to value my friends so much more than I have in the past, something that makes me feel guilty, but hopefully changes me for the better.

After watching my sister's funeral from ICU as I couldn't risk being at the funeral, I left the hospital feeling just flat and a bit lost.

Call it fate, or destiny, I don't know, but I got a phone call from a very close friend who I grew up with in Colbinabbin and who we see regularly in Bendigo where we now live. She just happened to be in Melbourne helping out her own family ( as she would !) and asked if I'd like to come around and meet outside where she was staying just to have a chat.

It was just great. Someone to let you talk, someone who knows how to listen, when to talk, when to say nothing, when to let you shed a tear. Rather than going back to my unit after watching the funeral, it was just the best time to have a friend to lean on, and to know that there was someone to help you get over it.

Fast forward to last Saturday and I leave the hospital feeling as flat as anything after getting a not so great report from the doctors. I immediately ring my great mate who I grew up with at Colbinabbin. We have been in constant touch throughout this situation and it's no coincidence that he just seems to know when a phone call is needed. 

How ironic that he just happened to be in Melbourne when I rang him, and he just said "I'm on my way"

We hadn't seen each other in over a year due to Covid, but the moment we put eyes on each other in the street was something I'll always treasure.

We spent the next hour wandering the streets aimlessly, talking about all sorts of things. 

There's no way we would have been sharing these thoughts 10 years ago, or even 5 years ago.

It just goes to show that all the research into mental health is having an impact, especially in men's health, and here I was experiencing it first hand.

One thing that we particularly talked about was that although we are both in our late 50's now, and the time we grew up together was only a period of a few years so long ago, who do we really go to at a time of most need?  

Yep. Each other.

Surely that's the epitome of a true and lasting friend.

I couldn't ask for a greater support, and although years and distance have kept us apart longer than what we would have liked, he just knows who I am and what he can do to help.

And it continues !!

The next day I get a call from one of Jen's closest friends who just happened to be in Melbourne after flying down from Qld for some things she had planned.

Just like my two Colbinabbin friends, she was here in a flash and once again we walked the streets sharing so much that was supportive to each other. I hope that the support I was trying to give her was as valuable as the support she gave me.

Again, we spoke about how we only spent a few years really doing things with each other, but those bonds have stayed strong for more than 40 years.

I am not for a moment suggesting that the huge number of people who have reached out over the past few months are not just as important, you are. 

I get daily messages that really help me keep my shit together  (pardon the description there, but it's the most appropriate !!) and I'd be lost without each and every bit of this.

Then yesterday I get another uplifting level of support.

My sister in Darwin, Gez, sends me a photo and a message to say that she is teaching a maths lesson that her kids are loving.

It just so happened that they are using a clip from my YouTube channel and a game I published last week.

That made me feel worthwhile I can tell you!!

I make lots of these and never know if they are useful or not, but today one of them was to one group of kids and for that I'm happy.

So what I'm saying today is that it's just those little things that we can do for each other that can make a world of difference.

Who knows who just needs this support right now? 

We can often think that "Hmm...I wonder how she/he is right now?" but do nothing about it.

I know I'm very guilty of this!!

But after reading these books it has perhaps planted a seed within that I may be able to nurture and grow in order to be a better version of myself. I feel guilty though that it has taken the circumstances of the last year or so to illuminate this to me.

I told you I probably would never have written my thoughts like this before, and I still feel vulnerable hitting the "Publish" button, but it is done and I feel better.

And Anne, I hope that wherever you are now and looking down on us, you still don't want to get even for 'The Exuberator" prank !!!

Until my next post Readers...

Cheers 😁

 Growing Up Large...

Hi Readers,

Been a bit longer in between posts, a bit going on. Sorry!!

Today I'm going to share some stories about something that is closest to me above everything else.

Family.

I am truly blessed to have grown up in a large family, which was quite common back in my childhood days. Just about everyone in our small town had a large family, and we thought nothing of it. This was normal !!

When I tell my kids at school how large my family was they just go wide eyed and open mouthed.

And we weren't the largest family either, there were many others larger than ours.

For those of you who are a similar age to me, you might relate to stories such as these. Some of you might even know these stories if you grew up with me, or any of my siblings.

So, sit back and read on, and please remember that some things that occur in these stories might be alarming now, but back in the day that's just how it was. I'm not apologising, I'm just telling it like it was. Even I look back now and shake my head, and no way would I recommend our boys to do the same things with their kids.

We survived, we grew up ( well, most of my siblings did !!) and have lovely families of our own, so perhaps it didn't do too much damage !!

My Family

Let me tell you a bit about my family, without making it sound like a slide show night!

In chronological order (sorry, no ages as I just don't know them all!!)

Maurice - If you said this name not many would know who you were talking about. He was universally known just as "Moose"

Kate

Anne

Anthony (Tony)

Me

Peter

Damian

Geraldine (Gez)

We live in various parts of Victoria, Queensland and the Northern Territory, but although distance has divided us, we have always remained close.

There are loads of stories to share. Embarrassing. Sad. Joyful. Ridiculous. Weird etc.

Being a positive person, I'll just focus on some of the more memorable and somewhat funny.

So, here goes...

While the Cat's away...

We have all moved away from home soon after finishing boarding school, but we always came back to mum and dad's house during holidays and breaks from Teacher's College. (It wasn't a Uni back then)

Moose was the only one who stayed in the hometown as he worked there at a quarry.

Think of Mr George Slate from 'The Flintstones', and that's Moose !!

Moose was gruff, hard working, generous and always busy. Apart from work, he loved outdoors, fishing, camping and shooting.

At Mum and Dad's house there was a bungalow out the back where Moose lived.

He'd always leave for work at ungodly hours early in the morning, and when he got home late in the afternoon he was like another favourite cartoon character of mine who was just loud, noisy and cantankerous at times.

This is what he came across as when he came home after a hard day at work....

When the reality was this, as he was a big softy at heart.

Anyway, back to the story.

One time when Peter and Damian and I were all home together, we shared a room which was just called "The Boy's Room", as the boys all slept there when they came home.

Moose had been having some trouble lately with a feral cat that kept sniffing around his bungalow at night and keeping him awake. Not what he needed when he started work so early !

He told us he was going to catch it, and then it was our job to 'dispatch it'. 

I'll point out now that although what follows may seem a bit harsh, in a small country town there was no way a feral cat was going to be rehoused or tamed, it just had to go.

As I said earlier, this is how it was back then.

After a few nights of not catching the cat, Moose finally had success when he found it in the trap he had set ( a box/cage sort of thing)

Before he set off to work that morning he came stomping down the hallway to tell us the cat was in a sack and that there was rifle in his bungalow and that we were to take the cat out the bush a few km's away and humanely shoot it.

"Yep, no worries Moose, we'll do it when we get up", and back to sleep we went.

A few hours later we loaded up the cat and the rifle and headed out the road to dispatch the cat.

As we had been out on the tear the night before, we were all a bit shabby and perhaps a bit hungover, so decided to take some shortcuts. Rather than go all the way out to the dense bush away from the town, we stopped at a paddock just a short distance away.

Mistake number 1 !!

We got the sack out and the rifle, and debate ensued about how we would do it.

Do we just shoot the sack a few times? Tie the cat to something so that we could ensure it got dispatched quickly? Who would actually do the deed? 

Too many questions for three tired boys !!!

In the end we decided to just open the sack and as soon as the cat popped out we would shoot it. Simple. At least it would be quick.

Mistake Number 2 !!

I forget who had what role, but collectively, we stuffed it up !!!

As soon as the bag was opened the cat shot out like greased lightning and was off across the paddock.

Whoever had the rifle was then firing shot after shot at it and little clouds of dust exploded behind it, but nowhere near it.

The cat was gone and we had failed to do what Moose had demanded.

Of course, when Moose got home later that day the first thing he asked was whether or not the cat was gone.

"Yep. No worries. Did everything you asked. Job done"

Fast forward a few hours and VERY EARLY the next day there was an even louder stomping down the hallway.

Our bedroom door flew open and a very angry Moose was standing over Damian, holding a sack with a cat in it, and a shotgun this time.

He threw the sack (containing the said cat) very heavily onto Damian who was trying hard to look like he was asleep, then the shotgun and cartridges, and stormed out growling 

"AND DO IT PROPERLY THIS TIME!!!"

I remember looking across through the dim light at Damian who was rubbing his eyes in a confused state after what had just happened, and staring at the gun and sack of cat laying on top of him.

All was quiet, and then I heard giggling coming from Peter in the bed in the opposite corner.

Obviously he and I looked the 'most asleep' which is why poor Damian copped the full wrath of Moose.

Rest assured, the job was done properly the next time, and it was the first thing that Moose checked when he got home that night!!!

The Exuberator

My sister Anne was what we might call a 'late bloomer' when it came to getting her driver's licence and a car. She just didn't see the need or feel the pressure to do either, so she was into her 20's when she finally committed.

At the time I was working in a Bank in Melbourne and was home for a few days during my holidays.

Moose and I decided to take Anne car shopping, so it was off to Bendigo for a day to check out the car yards.

It was great day out together and in the end Anne settled on a nice first car, a Toyota Corolla.

The car she bought was like this.

Anne was still a week or so away from getting her licence, so it fell upon me to drive the car back home for her, with Anne being a very proud and excited passenger.

On the way home I was happily pointing out various features of her car, as I was secretly jealous because it was much better than my car !

The radio sounded great, it had good heating and cooling, lots of room and buttons and switches for all manner of things.

There was one switch in particular that stood out, an orange plastic switch that lit up when pressed. Anne asked me what this switch was, and quick as a flash I said ( in a matter of fact tone ) "Oh, that's your Exuberator switch"

"What does it do?" she inquisitively asked.

"Well, it's like an extra power switch. It gives your motor a boost for extra acceleration" i replied straight faced.

I then proceeded to demonstrate.

I asked her to press the switch, and as it lit up I gently pressed harder on the accelerator.

When she pressed it again to turn it off, I eased back.

Back and forth this went all the way home, she thought her car was great, but having an "Exuberator" was just the icing on the cake!!!

We eventually got home and all the family were home a day later for the weekend.

Everyone wanted to see her new car and hear all about it, something which Anne was only too happy to share.

And she saved the best for last.

Smiling at me, she knew she was about to share what made her new car even more special.

"And did you know everyone, that it has a special power switch called the Exuberator, just here, and it gives you an extra power surge whenever you need it"

A few heads poked into the car and all instantly knew what the switch was.

It was for the rear demister !!!

Once this was pointed out to Anne I had some serious explaining to do, but as usual, she just took it in her stride. 

Anne had that car for years, and over time even she shared the Exuberator story, but I don't think she ever trusted me again when I explained the features of various cars we had.

Mum's First Aid

With 8 kids tearing around the place, mum and dad didn't have a lot of time to pamper us as they were busy running the only pub in the town.

With 8 kids, we were pretty accustomed to looking after each other and creating our own fun, just like all the other kids in the town.

Hanging around inside wasn't the norm, everyone was outside just 'doing stuff'.

How different it is now.

Because we did things that are now frowned upon or considered a bit too dangerous, it was inevitable that injuries occurred.

Whenever one of us was hurt it was quick and tough love from Mum.

Unless blood was spurting or bones were protruding, you were okay !!

I remember one time when Kate fell off a swing I think it was and hurt her arm.

Of course, she went to Mum in pain, there was nothing protruding, no marks, no bleeding, so a bit of a rub and a kiss on the forehead would fix everything.

Over the next few days, Kate was still in pain and kept telling Mum, who dutifully kissed and rubbed, and said it will get better soon.

However, Mum also began to look a little concerned when Kate's arm started to change colour a few days later, so she relented and took her to the hospital.

Imagine our surprise when a few hours later Kate comes back to the car with her arm in a full plaster and in a sling.

She'd badly broken it !!

Heaven knows the pain she was in for those few days, and it has always been something that summed up Mum's attitude..."You'll get better" !!

Wagging School

This story is ironic as 6 of us became school teachers !!!

Like all kids, we tried to pull a sickie from time to time and get a day off school.

Mum had a standard approach to all things pertaining to sickness and injury.

Gargle salt water.

If any of us complained of a stomach ache ( always a good one as there was no physical evidence needed) Mum would just say "Gargle this salt water"

The same for a sore throat. Same for diarrhoea. Same for a headache.

Even a sore leg. You name the condition, she'd always do the "Gargle some salt water"

We are all still to understand the benefits of her treatment, but if you were prepared to gargle ( and she would really make sure you gargled and sometimes swallow as well) then she figured you deserved a day off just for passing the gargle test. 

She must have loved watching us go through this !!

However, once you had either convinced her or faked it well enough, she would always make some of the best chicken soup one could ever taste, as we all know that chicken soup fixes everything !

Going the distance with the salt water was always worth it knowing that the chicken soup was soon o follow. Maybe it was her way of saying sorry .

Car Safety

Maybe this story has little to do with car safety, and is more about the lack of car safety.

Even I would be alarmed and shocked if I saw this today, but once again, as I've said earlier, this was the norm back in the 70's.

As we all seem to drive around in SUV's these days, myself included, back when I was a kid the ten of us all piled into the Holden HQ Station wagon. Great cars then, and worth a packet now to collectors.

The seats would fold down, we'd have blankets and pillows and all of us would fit in for long trips all over the place.

The trusty Holden HQ

This car would be worth a packet now.

Often if we were going somewhere there would be a race to get the middle spot in the front seat between Mum and Dad, as it meant not being squashed in the back with the others.

We didn't "Shotgun" the front seat back then, you would "Bags it". Don't ask me why, that's just what I grew up with.

As you can imagine, seat belts were often optional extras, which is also why the road toll was so high.

I also remember when Gez was born and she would be transported in a bassinet.

These days we have intricate car seats for babies and toddlers. Even I know much it has changed since our boys were young as we recently bought a car seat to transport our Grandson in, and needed to get it expertly fitted !!

Back to Gez.

Mum and Dad would always take us on Sunday drives, and after we all piled in, Gez was last to be handed in as she was in her bassinet. This would then be placed across the laps of the 3-4 kids in the back seat.

We were either lucky, or Mum and Dad were just safe drivers, as Gez survived through this and is now a school Principal.

To transport 8 kids nowadays one would need to purchase a virtual mini bus in order to carry all the kids, without even considering prams and strollers !!

Because Mum and Dad owned a pub, often they would have to collect supplies, or take loads of rubbish out to the tip a few km's away.

The trailer would be hooked up, and often we were given the choice to ride in the car or in the trailer. 

Can you imagine that now !!!

Coming back from the tip was always the best as it was a bumpy, dusty road.

We would be bouncing away in the trailer, and usually mum or dad would be unable to see us due to the dust being thrown up by the car. How they never lost one of us on the way home on one of these trips is beyond me, but it's just what every other family did as well.

Well Readers,

I hope this has jolted similar memories for you that you can laugh about now and be amazed that you survived your own childhoods. I'm still shocked looking back now, but at the time it was just the norm, just as all the things we are doing now are what is generally accepted.

I'm sure that our Grandson Henry will just laugh when his parents regale him in his later years with how he was brought up, transported etc. I'd love to be a fly on the wall to see what is accepted in the future.

Growing Up Large has been a post about my family which has a lot of things happening at the moment that just keep bringing us closer together.

I hope yours remains close too.

Until my next post,

Cheers 😁