Mothers Day

I find that the older I get, the more appreciative I become of my Mom and Dad. Sadly my Mom passed away a number of years ago but I am very pleased and relieved to say that I honoured her and expressed my love and gratitude to her while she was still with us. This of course is not to say that I didn't give her plenty of grief over the years and I take full responsibility for the majority of those grey hairs.

Everyone's mother is special to them for all the obvious reasons and we all have a million stories to tell of the not so obvious reasons. I'm telling some of mine right here in memory of my Mom on this particular 'Mother's Day' because she is very much on my mind lately and I have awoken on occasion to her odour. I'm sure that everyone is quite aware that one of our strongest emotional triggers is our sense of smell and that our Mothers each have a very distinct sweet odour ('scent' is probably a more polite word but 'odour' is far more personal and descriptive in my opinion). I actually love waking to that and wish for it more often. I can honestly say that the only thing I really regret in my life is not having more time with my Mom before she passed on. We spent the last 18 years of her life on separate continents and although I would phone her frequently, I never even got to see her face as she aged.

Today though is to celebrate Mom and not a time for sad reflection but some of the joys. I am the fist born child and remember how my Mom would tell me that as first born I was greatly honoured but that along with this great honour came great responsibility to my siblings (3 wonderful brothers). She would often say, "..they will follow your example Peter, so be sure to set a good one." Needless to say I did my best to lead them astray with wine, women and song :) lol.

As a teenager and I'm talking about my late teens (mid teenage years I was a nasty piece of work but back in the early 70's everyone did National Service, best thing that ever happened to me at age 17 - made a man of me). I loved to spend time with my Mom, she was my best friend. I would often take her on my motorcycle to visit her friends and relatives. She would always sit side saddle (which is probably illegal today) and say, "A lady never sits astride anything" oh yes! Mom was a bit of a prude but she was most definitely a lady.

Mom always supported me, even when it seemed that the whole world did not, even when I thought she had given up on me, I once asked Mom why it was always Dad I saw first when I was bent and broken (a frequent occurrence in my younger years). "I can't take it anymore" she said through her tears and we never spoke of this again. I loved the way she would not let us leave the house even for a moment without a kiss goodbye 'just in case the good Lord stopped in to take one of us home'.

We would talk about everything and anything, Mom never had the daughter she always wanted so we boys were not spared the things that mothers do with their daughters, we were taught knitting, crocheting, cooking and all the other niceties of home making and I was Mom's confidant back then as she was mine. I loved teasing her especially in 'Haddon and sly' a rather up market department store where I would fall behind then call out to her, childishly "Mommy, mommy... where are you?" She would turn bright red, get the giggles, rush over and playfully slap me with "Peter, Stop-it! you're embarrassing me!"

She loved to sing and dance while my Dad played the guitar and mouthorgan. Some of my fondest memories are of us (the whole family) on the verandah in Marula Avenue and also Spreckly Road all singing and dancing or rollerskating while Dad played. The laughter was awesome. I remember one night when Mom sang with her brother Joe to Dad's music while we all lived at Marula Avenue and the singing was truly awesome, boy they could sing!

I would spoil my Mom at every opportunity even after I married, my wife is the love of my life and the mother of my children but she is not my Mother and I am truly blessed because my wife has never been jealous of my Mother and in fact came to love her as her own Mom. I was and am therefore able to express my love for my Mom openly and fully as every child should, regardless of age. I know that you are smiling down on us right now Mom.

<3 Love you Mom <3

Hand Brake

I was just reading QPS "What the? Friday" which reminded me of three incidents involving the hand brake on vehicles, all quite funny after the fact but not at the time.

1) Many years ago while out camping with Ronnie, the kids, cousin Gary and his family at Charlie Moreland camp site in the Kenilworth area in South East Queensland, we were approached by the Ranger. He had come to tell us that we owed $'s for a shortfall in our paid up fees.

The Ranger had parked his 4 wheel drive on the hill facing away from the river, had left the vehicle in gear but had not engaged the hand brake. We were standing at our camp site so 20-30 meters away from his vehicle while discussing the fees. I was facing the direction from which he had come while he had his back to his vehicle when suddenly I noticed that the vehicle had begun to roll back down the hill. 

I yelled out as Gary and I gave chase after his vehicle. Fortunately I was able to grab on to the door handle on the drivers side with my right hand, launch myself from the ground as the door opened and then used the door as a fulcrum to swing myself through the opening, using my left hand I grabbed the steering as I stamped on the brake and stopped the vehicle. Needless to say the Ranger was very grateful that disaster had been averted and decided to waive the shortfall.

2) Again a long time ago, Ronnie and I were living in Carara on the Gold Coast of Queensland and had rented a couple of video's whilst a work colleague and friend Brett (we were both Regional Managers for a national regional security firm) was visiting while we upgraded a number of Branch computers to ensure that they were millennium compliant. As with all PC's of that era there was a lot of hurry up and wait so the videos were a nice distraction.

Anyway it was a Sunday, our computer work complete, Brett had left to return home and Ronnie and I decided to return the video's. As was quite customary (since I do all the driving) I sat in the car in the car park while Ronnie ducked into the shop to return the video's.

While I was waiting a fellow pulled up in one of those little convertible Jeeps at the apex of the driveway which led off the main service road at Carrara, hoped out and dashed into the video store. No sooner had he disappeared inside than I noticed his jeep beginning to roll back. There was no way that I could get to that vehicle before it would disappear behind the retaining wall so I ran to the corner and leapt off the retaining wall hoping that my judgement was accurate. Fortunately I landed astride the drivers seat and managed to grab the roll bar and windshield to prevent myself from exiting on the other side just as quickly. I was then able to jump on the brake, thus preventing the jeep from plunging over the embankment to the freeway as we (the jeep and I) had already crossed the main service road without incident fortunately.

The owner had come out to find me seated in his Jeep across the road (I was shaking quite a bit after the adrenaline rush and was in no hurry to go anywhere) He came charging down the hill while yelling back at the store for someone to call the police as his Jeep had been stolen.  I don't think he believed me as I never did get any thanks for saving his precious Jeep - the Jerk. Quite a few people had witnessed the whole incident and confirmed my story BTW.

3) This happened in the late 80's whilst I was on Patrol for MSS security. I had just finished servicing what was then 'The Brisbane Fish Board'. I drove up the driveway in my little Patrol Car (best not mention make and model here) I grabbed my run chain (Patrol Client Key Chain) with the padlock still attached (one of those locks that the key cannot be extracted from unless it is in the locked position) - I never locked myself in if I could help it, just in case I needed to make a hasty exit, I'll relate some of those anecdotes another time.

I pulled on the handbrake, put the vehicle in neutral, stepped out leaving the drivers door ajar as I went back to lock the gates. Whilst my back was to the vehicle and as I was about to remove the key from the padlock after snapping it in place, I felt a bump at the back of my knees and was immediately pressed hard against the gates. The handbrake had given way, the car had rolled back and had me pinned against the gates - I quickly realised that unless I acted fast I would lose circulation in the legs and be up the proverbial sh*t creek without a paddle. Fortunately (God Blesses me always) the key was still in the padlock (can't tell you how many times I had cursed that style of padlock till that moment). I managed to release the padlock with difficulty and hung onto the gate as the car pushed through on it's way to the river.

As soon as I was clear of the car I released the gate and gave chase albeit on wobbly legs. I didn't think I was going to make it and had visions of me and the car in the Brisbane River. The car had to cross a level car park and the wharf after descending the hill and I was able to catch it and stop just over a meter from the river - phew!

I hope you get a chuckle out of these, I know I do - now.

Till Next Time - God Bless.

Grizzly Bear's

and things that should go "GRRR"...

I worked in the security industry for many, many years and was unfortunate enough to come across many shocking and some times fortunately funny situations although truth be told there was nothing funny about them at the time. There are a number of people who will remember these incidents and in order to protect the living parties, I've taken the liberty of changing their names. This is an account as accurately as I remember actual incident's that took place in the 80's whilst I was working as a Senior Patrolman for a national company.

One evening whilst I was on patrol in the southern suburbs of Brisbane I received a radio message advising that call sign S40 needed some non urgent assistance at an 'alarm client', his location was given by the control room, radio operator in code. I advised the operator that my ETA (Estimated Time of Arrival) would be 22h10. 

On my arrival at the 'alarm client' (A very well known and very large department store at an inner southern suburb) the patrolman whose call sign was S40 and who we shall call 'Dave' approached me as I was getting out of my car. "Do you have any spare rounds?", he asked. Ding, Ding, Ding went the warning bells, "why the hell is he asking me if I have spare ammunition" I thought as I tentatively asked "Why?" not sure if I really wanted to know.

I have to be honest, I didn't trust Dave, I had recently submitted a request to have him banned from carrying a firearm because of an incident at another client's premises that I had stumbled upon. I'll elaborate - I was carrying out a safety check on a small group of employees at a well known factory close to the city a few weeks earlier and happened to time my call to coincide with their Smoko (Tea break). The smoko room was upstairs on a mezzanine floor overlooking the factory and as I wandered through the factory and found that there was no-one on the floor, I made my way up to the smoko room where I found two of the three employees at a table opposite one another. We were passing the time of day as was customary when I noticed a small angled hole in the table and whilst we were talking I subconsciously stepped back slightly to look through this angled hole. The employees noticed my curiosity and became very quiet as I spied through this hole in the table to a hole in the mezzanine and it dawned on me that these holes were perfectly aligned and about the size of a .38 calibre round. "I don't recall seeing that, the last time I was here" I commented. "What happened?", I asked as I noticed that the faces looking at me were rather flushed.

One of the ladies explained that Dave had been showing off his quick draw with his .38 Special Revolver the previous night when it had accidentally discharged sending a round through the table and mezzanine before ricocheting off the concrete floor and out of the open emergency door which was open at the time because the third co-worker was down there having a smoke outside as was his custom. It had been purely good fortune that the round had not wounded or killed someone.

"Hard to explain, but I'll show you in a minute... got that ammo?" Dave says. "Give me your firearm, I'll sort it out" I said. I didn't want him behind me with a gun which may or may not be loaded, I told him that we would worry about the ammo issue later, first I wanted to know what the heck was going on.

After handing his firearm over he led me through the back door into the department store, down through the isles and downstairs toward the children's department and as we were nearing the toy section I was wondering "Don't know how many times I've told this fool not to draw his weapon every time he attends an alarm activation. What the heck could this idiot possibly have done with six rounds from this .38 Special?... one round... maybe another AD (accidental discharge) but six?.... there is nothing accidental about that... no way!". As Dave is about to take a right turn into the toy section he taps his foot twice, stops and points down the isle to an eight foot Grizzly Bear standing there with it's arms akimbo... "So what?" I said.

"This is a pressure mat" he says as he taps his foot again, and begins to demonstrate how the Bear had moved and growled at him on his arrival. Dave had almost lost control of his bowel and bladder as he had raised his firearm and spent every round at this huge monster that he was sure was about to devour him. Well! .. I'm sorry but I simply lost it.... I was falling about and laughing almost hysterically. The thought of big bad Dave emptying his revolver into this oversized toy was just too funny for words. I think that it was relief that he had not killed the cleaners or night fillers or some tradesman... that had me in hysterics. Certainly there was nothing funny about shooting up the toy section of a very prestigious department store in the middle of the night but thank God no one was injured.

"How are we going to explain this!" demanded Dave. "WE!....WE! How the hell did this become WE! you bloody moron!" I demanded. I was a company man through and through, though many would argue otherwise so my mind was racing, "How the heck am I going to fix this?, if I just walk away and drop this fool in it the company will lose the contract for sure" I thought.

I called the control room from a land line, well aware that all call's were recorded and explained that we would be delayed for some time due to a technical fault and would require a particular technician who we shall simply refer to as BN to assist us. The control room operator arranged for BN to attend our location explaining that I had specifically stressed that no other technician had the skills required for this particular fault.

BN repaired the wiring of the Grizzly bear as best he could while Dave glued back tufts of fur. In the meantime I used polly filler expropriated from the hardware section to repair the holes in the wall caused by the through and through rounds from Dave's revolver and by 03h00 we had everything back to normal..... well almost... apart from a slight stutter from the Grizzly Bear. I thanked BN for his time and trouble, had his assurance amongst chuckles that the incident would not be reported. I sent Dave on his way with an empty holster and much protesting, as I called clear of the site with the control room via radio. The client never mentioned any issue and our company was never the wiser.

Dave never carried a firearm again whilst we were both employed by the same Patrol division.

Mitchell

I have a large number of very good friends because I like people and they for the most part find me interesting. I tend to have a fairly unique take on life in general or so I'm told, I have had very many interesting experiences this I do know and there have been many occasions when God has blessed me exceptionally  - my 'extraordinary luck' to those of doubtful faith. 

Along the way in this extraordinary and very marvellous life I have made some very exceptional and extraordinary friends, one of whom was Mitchell. We were very young, seven I believe... possibly younger when we first met in a little town called 'Wankie' (an unfortunate name for a coal mining town). Wankie is located in the north west corner of what once was Southern Rhodesia, known today as Zimbabwe where even the names of many towns such as Wankie have been changed, or rather translated to Shona for the most part. That particular area was very rich in minerals such as coal and tin but a very hot and dry climate. 

Mitchell lived down the road from us along with his four brothers and parents. Edith, Mitchell's Mom had polio as a child and this had effected one of her legs causing her to walk with a pronounced limp. 'Aunty' (the term used in those days for all adult female family and friends) Edith was a beautiful soul, she had a heart of gold and became good friends with my mom.

My father worked as a telegraphist on the Rhodesia Railways at the time but I think Dad met Mitchell's dad (for the life of me I cannot remember Mr C's christian name so I'll simply refer to him as 'Mr C') through the church or 'Kingdom Hall' as the Jehovah's Witnesses prefer to call it. My father was ... and is to this day a staunch JW as is my youngest brother, Dan. Ronnie and I are 'Born Again Christian's', Brothers Guy and Shane don't belong to any particular faith 'Bush Baptist' being their preferred term so when we were recently reunited after 30 years, you can just imagine the ground rules that needed to be put in place in order to prevent lengthy debate's on theology. A whole book could be written on this subject alone so this will be left for another time.

The commonality between Aunt Edith and mom were that neither worked or belonged to the JW faith, both wanted daughter's but only had son's and only lived a few houses apart. Mitchell was the third son and at my age so we were in school together. We formed a pretty special bond as I think most kids at that age do. So of course it stands to reason that when Dad was posted back to Bulawayo (since the introduction of teleprinters his position was becoming redundant) I was pretty devastated as any eight year old would be. New home, new school, new church, no friends but as Dad said, I'd be closer to my cousins both older and younger and new bonds would be formed... and they were over time. Our first day in our new home, second youngest brother Shane fell face first out of a tree in the front garden onto a half drum, made a mess of his mouth which caught the rough cut edge of the drum... neither Shane nor I were strangers to this type of accident but... what a start to our new life.

We just couldn't seem to settle down, we moved house and changed schools a fair bit over the following months until we wound up at Marula Ave in Sauerstown at about the same time as Mitchell's family arrived as if by some miracle on the same street, on the same block but at the other end. Mitchell and I were in the same class at the same school, 'Hugh Beadle', only a block from where we lived in this old renovated hotel and life was grand. We had an interest in pigeon's and wanted to try racing them but would start with homing pigeons.

We managed to acquire this rather flea bitten old brown homing pigeon from one of the older boys in the school by trading comic's and a pocket knife for it.... yay! we had our first pigeon... now where on earth would we keep it. Since I lived in the neat old hotel with fourteen bedrooms and it even had a room enclosed with chicken wire (our bicycle shed) we would put the bike's in another room around the side of the main building and turn the bicycle shed into our pigeon breeding coup. Convincing mom and dad that this was a good idea was a little daunting so we went ahead and rehearsed our reasoning and our foolproof plan to keep our families away from that terrible 'skid row' that the oldies were always talking about. Of course our excited and breathless delivery of the 'plan' was met with much scepticism but delighted enthusiasm.

If we could show that we would take care of these new pets faithfully and diligently, then yes we would be allowed to keep and breed pigeons however, we were not to get our hopes up for great wealth as it was doubtful that our enterprise would generate much income if any for .... well at least a long, long time.

We did just as we promised over the following few junior school years and our dad's encouraged us to such an extent that each built breeding coups for us in the corner of our respective yard's to house our pigeons which we went on to breed and cross breed. We had Fantail's, Bohemian Croppers, Blue Tumblers, Chinese Nasal Tuft's..... as well as at least ten squab's amongst fifty birds. We would often move all the birds from one coup (loft) to the other for cross breeding and since Mitchell had the biggest and best breeding hutches they would spend most of the mating season at his loft.

I was about 12 years old when one evening, while I was tending to some minor repairs on my coup (the pigeons were over at Mitchell's coup) when I heard Mitchell sobbing as he ran up to me.... Something about being sorry, Mitchell's dad and pie... I ran over to his house with Mitchell, with that sick hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach becoming more and more pronounced the closer we got to the coup... There were feathers everywhere and spattering of blood over the coup but not a single bird in sight. I felt absolutely gutted and I could see that Mitchell was in a worse state than me... We hung onto one another and bawled our eye's out, there were a lot of things that died that night beside pigeons.

This event drew Mitchell and I closer together but little did I know that within a few weeks something far more devastating would take place. Stephen (one of Mitchell's younger brothers) received a new bike from Mr C - his dad, for doing well at school. We would all take turns riding each others bike's and on this particular afternoon we were going over to the "B's" family home on Beech Ave about a block and a half from Mr C's house, Mitchell was riding Stephens bike while Stephen and I ran along side (I used to love running as did Stephen). 

We had collected the comics after a little procrastination. Mitchell had the comics as he climbed onto Stephens bicycle. Both Stephen and I were running after Mitchell yelling at him to give us the comics, all of us wanted first choice so whoever had the comics in hand.... a bird in hand is worth two in the bush. Mitchell was a good 20m ahead of us trying to get away as we chased after him when the Sauerstown Omnibus overtook Stephen and I but Mitchell was losing control of the comics.... the bike began to wobble as Mitchell tried in vain to regather the slipping comics. 

The blood runs cold as I recall the screech of tyres, punctuated by a slight popping sound... Mitchell had disappeared for a moment, the bus lurched and all of a sudden we were kneeling beside Mitchell who was laying at an odd angle on the road. Comic's were scattered all over the road, the bicycle was caught up in a twisted tangle under the bus... everything was still and quiet as though frozen in time, I tried to lift Mitchell's head but my hand seemed to sink into a ... something mushy as Mitchell's eyelids flickered and he said something inaudible. A part of me was lost forever as I watched the life fade from my best friend's eye's. 

In memory of Mitchell. (Sorry that I could never bring myself to visit your family after the funeral).

Bonnie Ronnie

This morning as I woke, beside the birds singing outside my bedroom window, I heard the unmistakable sounds of 'Radar Love' by Golden Earring emanating from the radio ever so faintly. I like to keep the radio playing beside me while I sleep, I often wake to discussion or debate during the early hours - Ravi Zacharias in particular fascinates me with his philosophical perspective on Christianity and Atheism. I digress.

Anyway the sound of this very familiar old tune reminded me of the night that I met my Bonnie Ronnie, Saturday night the week end before Easter 1975 if I'm not mistaken. I was at my favourite venue for the three things that interested me most in those days, birds, booze and tunes - not necessarily in that order. The night club on the corner of 13th Ave and Grey St had many names such as 'Talk o' the Town' and 'Electric Circus' it was however known by most as 'The Zoo' for the Party Animals who frequented the night spot.

That particular Saturday night I was enjoying a few 'Shumba' (Lion Lager), my poison of choice at the time whilst scoping the talent from the edge of the dance floor and listening to the band play (can't remember which band but it wasn't Golden Earring unfortunately however the live bands were always very good I must say).

After about half an hour I spied in the deepest darkest corner of the club a dark haired lovely in a pale corduroy full length dress which appeared to be hugging some rather svelte curves. I watched her for a while since she was alone, a table full of drinks in front of her would indicate that she was playing wall flower by choice while her friends party. Definitely worthy of closer inspection - besides I wanted to dance and shake it up a bit.

Anyone who was familiar with 'The Zoo' would remember that there were comfy benches along the walls and cut down wooden wine barrels that served as table's with the small kegs and pouf's that served as seating. This arrangement in the disco lighting was an effective obstacle course for would be suitors and served the wall flower well as it would thwart the well intoxicated. Now I had a reputation for over consumption of the amber fluid but I want to stress here that I was nowhere near intoxicated at that early stage of the evening. 

On arrival at Bonnie Ronnie's table I went to lean over so that she could hear me when I accidentally placed one foot on the edge of one of those damnable poufs. As I shifted my weight to move my foot the pouf flicked out from under me and I lurched forward sweeping the table full of drinks ahead of me as I slid across the table landing on the bench with my head in Bonnie Ronnie's lap. She squealed with both arms raised as she tried in vain to push herself backward and away from me. She was soaked and smelled like a brewery, her beautiful dress ruined.... and I - well I had done my dash here. 

Ronnie recovered a little and rather impolitely insisted that I remove myself from her lap, "Get OFF ME" she yelled repeatedly. Well I had nothing to lose and I'm a stubborn and persistent bugger at the best of times so I flatly refused until she would agree to dance with me. It took a good few minutes of persuasion with, "I'm comfortable and I like it here, the view is great and I'll only move if you promise to dance with me." before Ronnie capitulated and agreed. We danced to 'Radar Love' which was playing while the band was on a break. As soon as the song was over Ronnie tried to make good her escape but I stuck to her like bubble gum to a blanket and the rest is history.

My Bonnie Ronnie (Veronica)

A few years ago I put a little video tribute together for the love of my life which I'll share here.

Trade Fair

I woke this morning to a glorious sunny day with the birds singing outside my window. This morning reminded me of life as a teenager back in Bulawayo, Rhodesia and in particular 37 Spreckley Road North End... our home. Those teen years were wonderful, were they not?

It was 1974, I was on leave from the army about halfway through my National Service (which BTW I think is great for all our youth, teaches self discipline and real life skills amongst other things) and the Trade Fair was on again. Bulawayo had an international trade fair every year and grounds well set aside specifically for all of the exhibitors. The venue was located on Hillside Road and bounded by 15th Avenue and Borrow Street to the West, Centenary Park to the North and the Speedway Track on the East.

Anyway I'm probably in this reminiscent mood today because I finished an illustration (composite from photographs and hand sketches) of my parents yesterday while taking medication for a uniquely African illness called 'Bilharzia' a flat worm like blood parasite which can only be contracted from direct exposure to infected and untreated fresh water  such as rivers, lakes or dams. Thinking of Africa of course always invokes memories of the good times and of family and friends. 

Today was one of these days, with the breaking dawn streaming a slivered shaft of golden light through my open window and the sparrows chirping so gaily. Their shadows danced along the shaft of light where it made the golden glow of the cedar bookshelves reflect in flashes of colour around the room. A glorious morning and I was transported back in time to an Autumn Saturday at age 18. I remember laying in bed till well after 8 am just watching the shadows of the sparrows dancing in the shaft of light reflecting off the mahogany bookshelves, as I listened to the singing sparrows. Enjoying the fact that I could lay in for a change. I would surprise my girlfriend Shirley before taking her for Brunch at the La' Gondola Restaurant - little did I know that it was I who would be getting the surprise as I discovered that I was playing second fiddle. Poor Shirley, lost the love of her life that day as I wasn't the only one surprised.

It was a Saturday, I was on pass from the army, just lost the girlfriend and the Trade Fair was on, of course I went home in my VW Purple Morris 500 station wagon and cried to mama. I probably would never have admitted this till today, would've spoilt my image as a macho man.

Mom asked me to take her to the Trade Fair, I guess to take my mind off Shirley and I agreed, I must say we had an absolute ball in Luna Park. My Mom loved the thrill of the rides, the scarier the better... hell she used to get me to take her for rides on my motorcycles and nothing was scarier than that! I wrote off three of the things, was on a first name basis with hospital emergency staff as I couldn't go six months without busting myself up.

Whilst we were waiting in line for one of the rides at Luna Park who should come along but a bunch of the fella's that I was serving with ("Oh no!", there goes the macho image I thought - bugger!) I hoped that they wouldn't recognise me out of uniform... no such luck, they spotted me instantly. "Hey! Platypus ( a term of endearment - NOT!) gonna introduce us to your bird", says Tom. "She's better looking than your last one" John quips. More banter as half a dozen guys try to crack onto my Mom while they all think she is my new squeeze. When the guys moved on my Mom gave my arm (which she had been hanging onto all evening) a squeeze with delight as she said, "Thanks for not telling them I'm your mother - it makes me feel wonderfully young again". That night I realised that my Mother was a very attractive lady and my Dad was a very lucky fellow. It would be several months before the truth came out as I invited these same fellows to a party at our house for a bit of R & R.

What a great Saturday that turned out to be!

Mom.

20-20 Vision

Isn't it funny how people who have never accomplished anything are absolute experts on where we went so wrong in our endeavours. I have for many years had little to no time for the nay sayer, in fact my favourite expression has always been..'those who think or say it can't be done... should get out of the way of those who are doing it' - Helen Keller I believe. Wish I had an ounce of her drive and determination.

Life is full of struggles... everyone has their demons, battles and negativity. Some wallow in a life of self pity and may even send invitations to their pity party's.. some take advantage of the weak to make themselves feel like achiever's but all that they are doing is spreading their misery, while others fight and strive... and push, pull, get knocked down but get up and try again. I like to think that I am amongst the later group, I'm far from perfect and am no stranger to failure but I refuse to allow failure to hold me down and therefore consider myself an achiever.

Sure I glance back and think, "Didn't see that coming but I could have, ....should have,  ...would have.....", our rear vision always seems to be 20-20.... but is it really? .. and while we are focused on the rear we certainly aren't watching where we are going.

So to those experts on another's life who with their own have accomplished nothing, achieved nothing, I begrudge you nothing but suggest that should you move forward, you may not need to look in another's rear view mirror because you may have an image in your own - where your 20-20 rear vision may even be appreciated.

In the meantime I continue to move forward so that I can glance back from time to time and more often than not think to myself.... "Well done old boy, you gave it your best shot!". It matters not whether I failed of succeeded but that I tried. I've had a very full and blessed life, far far longer than expected but I have been inspired by a number of people from an early age who were at the time in worse circumstances than myself but stayed positive. 

Depending on one's perspective I'm very lucky or very unlucky. My Mother, God rest her soul was very superstitious as a young woman and would often say to me, "It's that damned name - 'Peter', I pleaded with your father not to give you that name but he had promised his grandfather.... I knew you would be unlucky." (Mom's cousin Peter whom she was very fond of had been a sickly and unfortunate child. He had passed away a few years earlier (Mom had been a teenager) and Peter's passing had a huge impact on her). I would often laughingly respond, "No Mom... I'm really lucky, I have you for my Mom!" That would bring a smile to those beautiful big blue eye's.

Mom with me standing and brother Guy on her lap.