"Working for the Man"

Since I'm trying to write the impossible resume for a new job this weekend, I thought I would reflect on some of the jobs I've had.
My first job was an offsider for a carpet layer at the princely sum of $20pw. This led to being a carpet salesman..oh joy. Then a factory hand at Gibsons flour mill, which afforded me my first trip to QLD. There, I had my shortest job..a tailor-out in a bench mill...I didn't go back after lunch ! Back in those days, before computers, I just went to another dole office and gave a different set of job qualifications...this time as a fully qualified cabinet maker (at 17 years..lol) I worked there 3 months before coming back to Tassie.
Back on home soil, I became a delivery driver for Canes, before heading off to the Territory, where I had one of the best jobs working at the Alice Springs Hospital, as orderly, ambulance driver, morgue attendant and security guard..it was great ! Then on to Adelaide, offsider to a lift mechanic, then darkroom assistant, processing film.
Back to Hobart, professional photographer with TVT6, decky (shark, blue-eye and cray), taxi driver, service station manager and a few more in between, which brings me up to the present years of mentoring "at-risk" youth..
In all these jobs, the hardest and yet most rewarding job I've had...was and is, ...being a parent !!
Now...to the resume..!...I've never had to fill one out....the times, they are a changing :)

Labour pains !

One thing I strongly suggest in life...do not be in the delivery room while your daughter goes through labour...and I don't think it would be any easier if I was the mother. As a father, I have been through the delivery room many, many times.(I also worked in a hospital ) and I have even delivered my youngest daughter on the side of the road. In those instances, through the pain and screaming of my spouse, it was the most magical time in my life, watching a baby come into this world.

BUT.....watching my daughter go through horrendous pain and a shocking labour, was one of the worst kind of pains I've ever experienced. It took me back to when they were a little baby, crying and screaming for no apparent reason. That feeling of helplessness, that your baby could be in pain and theres nothing you can do.

Watching my grown up daughter go through the pains of labour was a hundred times worse than when she was a baby. Totally helpless. After six hours, when they finally decided to give her some serious pain relief, things got a lot better...for a short time. After bubs was born, she was whisked away for four hours...which broke my daughters heart...and mine.

glad to say both mum and baby are both doing well now...mum is radiant....grandpa is exhausted...

my MOFO

still recovering from a big night with Tex Perkins and the Cruel Sea...but here goes ! I've spent the last week trying to catch as many gigs as possible at Mona Foma and its been a huge week of contrasts....from Michael Lampard gently massaging an out of body experience from me to Nick Cave and Grinderman, physically forcing an OBE out of me.. I don't think I saw one bad act the entire week, from the local "The Stoics", to "The Cambodian Space Project", from "Metropolis" to last nights "Cruel Sea"...it was all worth the effort to get off my bum.

But...the BEST thing to happen this week was meeting all my friends, Facebook and real time. An event such as this, meant that everyone got to at least a couple of events and I certainly caught up with heaps of people from my past...but I suppose that meeting Facebook friends...and these are people I've been talking to for months...was the biggest thrill of all. They are just as nice in "real" time as they are on FB. There was Janet and Rod from the east coast, Deb and Martin from Sorell, the fabulous Della the Red and all the people that came up to me in the various venues, that are on my facebook friend list...wonderful...

Another great feeling was that we are all equal...we were all there to appreciate art in some form..for me the performance art. I walked up to Brian and David and shook their hands on putting this together...I worked the donation bucket for a short while, with Stephen, Mary, Kim and Rob....the pollies that came to say hello...we were all equal, we were all there for our own take on the arts.....ABSOLUTELY FABULOUS

WORD

When I was a lad, I was told that a mans word is his bond. It wasn't until I had kids that I realised the significance of this. When I told my girls that I was going to do something and it never happened, for whatever reason, the look of hurt on their faces broke my heart. From that moment, if I gave my word to my kids, or anyone else for that matter, it happened.

Giving your word is not like a promise, because we all know, promises are made to be broken, whereas your word cannot...or should not be given lightly. If I tell someone that I am going to meet them somewhere, for instance, I will be there 10 mins early, so there is no excuse for traffic hold ups or any other delays. What really gets me these days, is when talking to people and they doubt your word, even on some really basic observations. If I am supposed to say, "I promise what I said is true..." every time I'm talking, obviously that person is not worth my time talking to !

The sad thing is...as much as I stand by my word, in today's society, it seems to be a lost practice. All I hear are excuses for why a person breaks their word. A handshake to seal your word was once all you needed for a contract...no what ifs, or maybes...it was your word.

I know I'm dreaming and society is going to get worse as far as "word" goes, and gentlemen are a dying breed..blah,blah,blah..but if we are to have any hope of improving society, don't we have to go back to where a mans word is his bond.?

Cygnet Folk Festival

As the Cygnet Folk Festival is nearly upon us again, I thought this would be a timely reminder of my experience there. No, I don't play a musical instrument, but a lot of festival organisers hire me to keep the kids occupied. The folk festival was probably my first major gig performing magic. In those days, I used to wear a mask to cover up my embarrassment of performing in front of people...to hide the reddening face !

I dragged two of my daughters onto the stage, so I wouldn't feel so lonely up there. I was quite inventive back then and I put together a magic box, which when tipped over, would show it empty..then..hey presto...my daughter would appear out of the box...all very magical.

One of my other assistants, was a white rabbit, Kallisi. I had studied all the various ways of magically producing a rabbit, but I thought I knew of a "no-fail" way of doing it. I could just put Kallisi in my hat before the show, and when the time was right....hey presto..and pull the rabbit from my hat. Sounds easy, right ? I was about 10minutes into the show when I realised I was perspiring a LOT. The kids in the front row were starting to laugh because they could see the yellow "perspiration" running across the front of my mask...yes...the rabbit pissed on my head !

At 14, I thought I had the world worked out and that's the reason I attempted to take my life. From my perspective you finished school, then got a lifetime job. At 30, you had short back and sides, lived in the suburbs and had 2.5 kids. You retire at 65 and die 5 years later. I didn't see the point to this existence and I was going to do everything possible to change my destiny. I rebelled.

I got expelled from my very exclusive, very expensive boys school and 12 months later, got expelled from the only other school that would take me. To me it was no big deal, I just went out and got my first job...the first of many. The only reason I went to work, was so I could afford to party..and party hard. I figured I could party until I was 50, then go and get a job to pay my dues. It made sense to me, that to live life to the full, I had to start young !

In my youth, I joined the different gangs : surfers, skinheads, bikers etc.., but I soon realised I didn't belong in any of them. I didn't understand the group mentality of hating another bunch of people just because of what they wore or their mode of transport. I gravitated towards the older hippys, who didn't have a malicious bone in their skinny bodies...they just did a lot of drugs. I think I was about 16 when I had my first joint and since then I've had every drug known to man.

I have pointed out to my girls that my way of life did have it's pitfalls. I have never had a paid holiday, even though I've worked for near 40 years. I have very few material possessions and I've lived struggle street most of my adult life...but despite this, my kids are my best mates and I am proud that they survived, even prospered with a wildman of a father.

I will go into detail about the trials and tribulations that is my life, most of which I would never change, because it has made me who I am now.

the fly

I've got off track to what I wanted to blog about. There are a lot of other bloggers out there, that are far more eloquent than me, when it comes to current events as in the church, refugee crisis etc.. The reason I blogged was to give my daughters and in future, my grandaughters, some idea of who I am and why I am the person I am today. No one else can do this, as it is my storey. Some stories, I hope you can laugh at as I do...others, you might question why you are friends with me.

"The fly".. About 20 years ago I went and visited a mate out at New Town. We were having a coffee in his kitchen, when a blowfly was buzzing around and annoying him. He got the flyspray out and chased the fly into a small room off the kitchen, spraying as he went. He just about emptied the can into this room and closed the door, with a very satisfied(smug) look on his face.

About 20 minutes later, having forgotten all about the annoying blowie, he went into the room to get something, then came back out and sat at the table. Sure enough the blowfly came back out and buzzed the kitchen for a few minutes until it flew over towards where we were sitting, then hovered about a foot above our heads. This fly hovered in the one position...it turned and faced me, then turned and faced my mate, all the while hovering just above our heads. Then, as quick as a lightening bolt, the blowie flew into my mates neck, who of course jumped up with a scream holding his neck. The blowfly circled him and flew out the door. I laughed.!

Now think about it, because this really did happen. This blowfly, after surviving a can of flyspray in a closed room, remembered after at least 20 minutes who used the can on him, and also tried to hurt that person by flying into his neck. Bizarre !....but surely, doesn't this point to every living creature having a consciousness ?...memory...revenge...sound like human traits to me.