A Dollar In My Pocket

I was talking with someone today, they had pair of vintage dungarees accidentally disposed of. I know the back story and even helped trying to find such a pair. I understood, empathised and advised how to put it into perspective. I have lost some things in my life that at the time were quite devastating. It reminded me of how small things can seem huge.

I was off shopping for Christmas presents when I was 12. I had my own money I had saved, $8.00. I had a job where I got paid $1;00 per day for delivering groceries on a behemoth of a bicycle. On this day I had bought all the presents I needed and had one dollar left. I felt like a rich man, I reached into my pocket and out it fluttered, quickly scooped up by the person behind me whom when I asked for it back said “finders keepers”. I was devastated, I even went to the Police who said sorry sonny, no proof, can’t help. That was it. In the scheme of things it didn’t matter as I had bought everyone a present, the last $1.00 was going to possibly buy me an ice cream soda. Now why would I remember this 50 years later, even now as I think about it I remembered an earlier loss of a coping saw, brand new and left on a bus. Another incident occurred the week of my first wedding (I know married more than once the loss in that is a whole nother story). I was in town to pick up the suits. I got to the shop and reached into my pocket for the $60:00 and it was gone, I rushed off to backtrack my steps but came back empty-handed, the proprietor said I see you have a cheque book sir, I said yeah but not the money in it to pay for the suits, he said post date it for two weeks and then we will worry about it then. Although I was relieved and thankful the fact that it has stuck in my memory indicates to me that it was a significant blow.

I have yet to work out why some of my most embarrassing, hurtful and frustrating moments seem to be indelibly scorched into my memory. Sure there are moments of triumph and wonder that still reside there. Perhaps I will do some reading about it as I think it is an important factor and can bog us down or leave us stuck when what is essentially a moment in time can impact us in a big way yet the thing is really trivial. I know it didn’t seem trivial then and everything needs perspective however the biggest perspective is that we come into this world with nothing and we take with us out of this world nothing material.

I have a judeo-christian set of beliefs about this life however my beliefs about the next are pan, that is they will pan out in the end. In many ways it is not about what we lose in this life it is about what we leave behind. What is our legacy? What memories do we leave behind for others? What impact on others do we leave behind? It is those things that really matter. I am not talking about money here, I am talking about things that help lives change. It is those moments that cancel out feelings of loss. Looking back and seeing the impact on others, (sometimes we will never see that impact).

Psychologist Julius Segal, in looking at what helps children overcome adversity, wrote that “one factor turns out to be the presence in their lives of a charismatic adult — a person from whom they gather strength. And in a surprising number of cases, that person turns out to be a teacher”. Being an influence that overcomes the adversity of others is not limited to teaching we must remember that if we mourn the loss of $1:00 how much more we must celebrate the people in our lives who bring the gift of overcoming adversity. In doing so and realising this we need to be intentional in doing this in any way we can, whether it be small or large actions. We never know when the smallest act can make a difference.

With love

Paul

Beware Here There Be Idiots

Dumbo’s Friend

Who can remember the name of the mouse that was Dumbo’s friend in the movie about the flying Elephant? Well as it turns out I can. I regularly do a Newspaper Quiz, I average around 12 out of 15, sometimes even ace it.

Memory is a funny thing. I incurred what is described as a minor traumatic brain injury (I think it was about 4 years ago). I was hit in the head by a rock the weight of a 24-ounce hammer, and then kicked in the head by the same person who was wearing steel cap boots, You can read that story here.wordpress.com/post/kiwipaulspoetry.word… This is not about that and it is. I incurred some memory issues, often just periods of slow recall, forgetfulness about small tasks, birthdays, well sometimes. Yet I can remember the name of a Mouse in a movie from my Childhood (Timothy) and equally obscure I can remember that there are three rules are listed in Dua Lipa’s New Rules? What the actual? I have no real idea of who Dua Lipa is? Ok, Google tells me she is a singer-songwriter. I rarely listen to commercial radio, my radio is permanently tuned into Radio New Zealand National programme, (Aotearoa New Zealand’s equivalent of the BBC). I do listen to music programmes on that station however I could tell you the name of one of Dua’s songs, let alone recognise a tune. I realise however memory is like a muscle it has to be used, exercised and rebuilt otherwise it becomes smaller, weaker, and prone to injury (forgetfulness). So I purposely continue to read, look at new research, analyse the news and test it via quizzes etc.

No matter that I still forget my words sometimes (an occupational danger for someone whom others describe as a walking dictionary) I find them somewhere. The biggest long-lasting issue from my head injury is concentration. I have become aware that I need to concentrate more when I am driving. My spatial and speed awareness is still very good, I have however missed some visual clues to behaviour (red lights). That knowledge is power so I am now far more vigilant and I haven’t needed an infringement notice to remind me ( a helpful son has been good). The other significant symptom that has endured is a significant loss in my IQ. No, not my intelligence Quotient but my idiot quota. Idiots including Bigots; racists, misogynists, homophobes, religious pharisaical plonkers, conspiracist theorists, our world is full of them. As I have written before I have learnt to sit on my hands so I don’t slap stupid people, my ability to sit on my tongue has diminished. I can however walk away and will do so. No point in arguing with idiots or engaging in a battle of wits. My father always said don’t fight unarmed opponents.

Dear God, there has been a mass disarmament either occurring or becoming clear since the emergence of covid. If you want evidence, look at people who cut and paste on their Facebook pages notices instructing Meta what they can and can’t do, the irony of having ticked the terms and conditions of using a privately owned platform and expecting to be able to limit their power whilst you use their platform is palpable, the ignorance and lack of critical literacy screams out like a 20-metre bill board, the message reads “Beware Here There Be Idiots”.

Teen Angst to 60 Year Old Satisfaction (Almost)

Recently a 3 year old boy was in the news because no-one turned up for his party however socail media came to the rescue, https://www.stuff.co.nz/life-style/wellbeing/parenting/133203054/familys-plea-after-nobody-shows-at-3yearolds-birthday-brings-community-to-beach. Birthdays for me that I am cognisant of in my teens were les than humdrum, more boredome. It doesn’t help when your birthday is in the summer school holidays. Nor does it help when you are considered a geek and someone who was not invited to parties, certainly not someone whose party you went to. Growing up in a Shit Town didn’t help, Morrinsville where Rugby was sport, alcohol was entertainment and romance was a fumble in a car at Piako Beach, (a road gravel depot which flooded when it rained). I am not going to go on about provincial New Zealand because it is what it is, nothing much cahnges, to be different in Provincial New Zealand is still like hanging a target on your back. I digress however.

I decided when I was going to turn 15 that I would have a birthday party and invited people. I was naive in that I thought if you invited people they would come however unless you were “popular” then only friends would come and friends were in rather short supply for me. I had one person turn up and one person rang and apologised they couldn’t come. The fact that I remember it is evidence that it was a source of some hurt.

This year I turned 60 and invited people, a lot came,friends family, relatives it was great. A good time had by all.Interesting that sometimes a party is not defined by who came, rather who didn’t come. It is hard to change ones mindset and focus on the event and celebrate the good times. It requires a mindset change. It should remind us to cultivate those relationships that are important to us, celebrate having friends and familiy who are important to us and to above all else be grateful.

My learning this week is to be intentional and relational and reach out to those who are important to you, those who are lonely, those who are different.

If you get an unexpected call from the blue from me and have read this blog well it is upto you to define our relationship and where you fit into my description because as sure as David Seymour is an unctious prick, I won’t be telling you that you are different.

Paul

I’m Tired (its the human condition)

Conflict wears me out. It grinds me down and dries my spirit, soul and body. Sometimes there is no ethical choice apart from engaging with an issue and that often leads to conflict. As much as I will still engage in issues I have learnt to pick my battles, know when to yield, know when to stand and know when to walk away. I should have learnt it a long time ago but there it is.

I walked away from a group recently, theier mysygony, racism, ableism and every other ism in the book you could think of just became too much. As individuals they are nice enough people, they mean well and are generous with their time and money often. They are however dinosaurs who are stuck in times past and cannot break free from their thought patterns, you can throw a dice and take your pick why people choose to remain with beliefs that at the best are immoral. Religion, politics, personality, hurts fear they are all there to choose from. The biggest of these in my humble opinion, (a wee pause whilst you all laugh at my use of the word humble… ) ok that’s enough people.

Fear is based on the unknown and an unwillingness to grapple with that. What if someone looked at their racist attitudes and saw they were wrong, what then? Change, redress, possibilities of vulnerability, relationships at danger? All real fears. I am happy to go out on a limb and say it takes real intyegrity and bravery to admit you were wrong, the older you are the harder it gets. We that is in the communal we actually reinforce the notion of not admitting our failings. From Kings and Queens to Politicians, Prime Ministers, Presidents through to the completely average person have grown up in a world where being wrong is hard wired to feelings of fear of the consequences.

Much is said of restorative justice, however in a world where injustice prevails everyday, enabled by society, the state the church, clubs, individuals, political parties justice is a a very rare beast, almpost as hard to find as rocking horse scat. Martin Luther King said “Human progress is neither automatic nor inevitable… Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle; the tireless exertions and passionate concern of dedicated individuals”. This is why I still engage because not to do so is unjust. The key to surviving is to detirmine what you can do and when, how much can you care, surely one would go mad if one was to rail at every injustice in the world (externally). It is fine and healthy to be aware of injustice, doing so makes sure your reflective lens is in place and it keeps one honest.

I have realised that my limits are somewhat smaller than what I thought them to be which is a nice segue back into the title of my blog. As you may or perhaps may not know I have had cardiac rythym issues, they seem to be well managed however one of the medications just knocks me I can wake up tired and continue in that for the rest of the day. The post concussion syndrome doesnt help either. The good news is that eventually I will be able to stop that medication and very very slowly my concussion symptoms are abating, (hence the writing). The bad news, well it could be 6 months to a year before I can change medications. The problem with the medication is that my pulse rate sits at around 54 and doesn’t increase to much above 70 when under load, which doesn’t allow enough oxygyn to power the exertion.

Small steps towards more cardiac fitness will help as will weight loss. As to my brain fog well being hit on the head witha 900 gm stone doesnt help, nor some subsequent falls however re-engaging the left side of my brain does help, so trying to instill discipline back into my writing will eventuall help that it does tire me as does conflict however that which doesn’t kill me, postpones the inevitable but it does help climb above the walls, swim the moats and walk the fields.

Paul

His name is Reuben

I remember clearly, every moment (perhaps not every moment) however clarion clear like the call of a Ruru on a still night I remember 26 years ago when Reuben was born. Now when it came to giving our children names I usually deferred, (apart from one) however I took him in my arms and said his name, the only objection was in fact from his older brother who said “his name’s not Reuben it’s Stepen (Stephen was a family friend whom Joshua had taken a shine to. I knew in my heart however that Reuben was his name and so it was.

Now people who know me or Reuben closely will know that it has been one hell of a journey for both of us, Both with our own stories. I am not going to tell you about Reuben’s journey as that’s his to tell. Mine well where do I start, but its not about me. Reuben turns 26 tomorrow, typical of me and my head at the moment, I had talked about it being tomorrow and yet I still rang him to say happy birthday.

I (as normal are carrying on. Lets cut to the chase). I was driving home from a beautiful day today and thinking about it and I felt tears coming to my eyes, why I can’t tell you. It wasn’t a cathartic release, nor any overwhelming sadness though God knows I probably need to do some work on myself again. I digress.

I was thinking about how awesomely proud of how Reuben has taken on the challenges and taken control of his life. I cannot say that I love him more than when he was in the midst of his journey because unconditional love is what I have for all of my children good bad or indifferent relationships as they have been I have loved my children and will do so from the bottom of heart and it is the essence of mv very being. I would lay down my life for my children without thinking twice, but this is about Reuben and a celebration of his tenacity, strength of character and his willingness to give and help others. His willingness to ask and listen to advice. His changes in how he approaches his own decisions and the fantastic choices that he makes.

I am proud (if that is such a thing) of all my children, as they have all faced adversity, I however wanted to celebrate my son Reubens 26th trip around the son, and to do so with a wish that he continues growing (and fiximg my boat and car when he can. He is a talented, resourceful, artistic young man, and my prayer for him is to continue to be happy and to succeed, (ps he is an awesome welder, so if you are looking for an engineering apprentice, hit me up.

In the meantime, Reuben I celebrate you as you continue your journey withing family and manhhod,

I love you, Dad!

One One, Two Two, Three Three, Shit, Fuck!

I read the Death notices the other day, just to check if I was still alive, not that I would necessarily want a death notice in the paper. Those who are close to me would know already and why give the miserable buggers who don’t like me reason to celebrate?  I digress, in the notices was the name

WALK A MILE

Walk a mile

I have being having an internal debate recently about what to do about someone who shouts at his wife. No, not here at home however close enough for me to hear. I was contemplating calling the Police as I see it as a form of violence (yes I have been guilty in the distant past) or calling the child welfare Oranga Tamariki. In the end, I decided to either speak to the shouter or to the shoutee. Today the opportunity came up to speak to the shouter, just as I was getting ready to say hey mate he opened up. He said that you have probably heard me shouting at my wife, I just nodded, knowing when to listen is important. He then relayed his story, his journey.

PRISON BREAK

Prison Break: The Extraordinary Life and Crimes of New Zealand’s Most Infamous Escapee by Arthur Taylor

Reading this book has prompted a break of my own, that is a break in my blogging a story for another time, it does however have a connection to crime.
This should be a must-read for anybody who cares about justice, whether they are the lock them up and throw away the key or they are people who wonder about recidivism, justice, democracy, and the rule of law. This no-holds-barred account of the notorious Arthur Taylor one of Aotearoa’s notorious misfeasor, with a proclivity and appetite for offending and cocking two fingers to the justice system is a page-turner. Some of the content is very Kiwi however the message is universal.
I am well acquainted with the penal system in Aotearoa-New Zealand, fortunately in terms of the criminal side as an involved participant from the other side of the fence from Arthur. I must say that I am a Facebook friend of Arthur’s and in doing so I have seen Arthur for who he is and I understand him. After reading his book that understanding has become an admiration, not for his offending as Arthur candidly acknowledges the impact that has had on other people, his friends, and family, Arthur appears to regret most of it.
His story is unfortunately not unique as I have tried to help people who like Arthur have succumbed to the slippery slide. There are some very important truths that come through his story, firstly our child welfare system is broken. Beyond broken it is a major cause of offending. Secondly the rule of law should apply to all, those who enforce the law as well as those who break the law. The third matter is that there are some very broken people in our society and rather than assist them they tend to break them even more. The fourth matter is that our Justice (penal) system is very broken, whilst there are some good people in it it really resembles an Orwellian society depicted in Animal Farm and elements of 1984. It needs to be cleaned out and prison reform is well overdue. Our Judges are out of touch by and large and general society has no clue and really doesn’t care about it until they become a participant either as an offender or a victim.
The last thing is that Arthur is a highly intelligent and caring man, as much as any reformist movement he has and still contributes to the cause of justice in a meaningful and sincere manner.
Neglect to read this book at your own risk, one thing can be sure is that we have not heard the last of Arthur and I look forward to his continuing contribution to Justice in Aotearoa, he has inspired me to continue to work where I can.
This book is a seminal tome and should be required reading for students of law for employees of the Department of Justice including all Prison wardens and probation officers as well as MPs. There is something very rotten in the state of Corrections and Justice in Aotearoa.



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Am I Radio Rental?

I saw a Psychiatrist earlier this year, many of you may be as surprised as I was when he said that I was completely normal and sane.  I am still not convinced about that, I guess normal comes in many shades and as for sanity

Sometimes When My Sister Talks I Hear My Mum Come Out.

Passionate, short, fiery, a human dynamo, that’s a few words you could describe my sister.  Patricia Susan Gapes (nee Cronin)  also known as Trish, Patsy Sue (call her that at your own risk).  Today is her birthday.