WHO ARE WE? AND WHO DO OTHERS THINK WE ARE?

1993 THE TOURIST -IN FLORENCE
IN PIAZZA DELLA SIGNORIA

In some ways, I suppose we are most ourselves in the eyes of others when we are little children. We are just little ..........   whoever. It is that simple. But within our own being, we are then not yet fully ourselves, because we are not free to say whatever we wish, and in fact, we do not yet have ideas or opinions on many, even most subjects.

Later as teenagers, we have strongly felt opinions or prejudices, sometimes ill-informed, but not at all times freely expressed. Our identity is gradually unfolding to the world like a  flower. Our sense of our own identity is powerful at this time. Others' sense of our identity will then depend on how successfully or completely we have negotiated the shoals of puberty. Most of our peers, being in just the same stage of confusion as we are at some stages, will think we are great or a "drag". Older folk will see the forming personality more readily and begin to react accordingly.

As we reach the stage of being a young man or woman, our identity, just completed, begins to be moulded by strong external influences, our equally mature peers, our studies, our vocation and or, employment. This effect works on how we see ourselves and how we are seen by others. To take exceptional cases, the young Sailor sees himself as just that and is likewise perceived as a Sailor. In the employment sphere, the young man or woman can come to identify themselves with the corporation which employs them. The Sailor is a NAVY man and affects to have no time for Soldiers/ the Army or Airmen/the Air Force. The Commonwealth Banker will affect to look down on The Westpac man. Others will come to identify the individual with that employment. ""Here comes the NAVY!" as he enters a social gathering. Or, "What has the Commonwealth Bank got to say for himself??"This phenomenon has even been publicly acknowledged in St.George Bank's TV Commercials, distinguishing its man as socially acceptable, whereas a mere "banker" was not.

With my beautiful Bride in 1970.

The Paterfamilias in 1976

More important than all of these for a man is his identity as a husband, father and grandfather, this is an enduring underpinning of the superstructure. .And it is itself ideally resting on the foundation of his relationship with God.



So, where am I going with this?


Well, in my time I have been:
the Catholic Schoolboy
the aspiring Seminarian
the Seminarian
the ex-Seminarian
the young Commonwealth Public Servant
the Solicitor for Railways young man
Mr Commonwealth Bank
the Man from United Dominions
The Man from the Banque Nationale de Paris
The Man from the Archdiocese of Brisbane
The Man from Ignatius Press
The Publisher of Foundation
The Queenslander
and always, through it all The Catholic

But all the employment identities are long since gone, and the question arises
then, what is my identity? At 71 years I am still The Catholic, The Husband, Father, Grandfather,

A few words from Grandad about Stephen Dixon's new gift Telescope.

Consoling Grandson Daniel Whiting at Christmas time 2010 after a fall off a ride-on vehicle.

the Publisher of FOUNDATION .the Queenslander,the Blogger of "VEXILLA REGIS"http://vexilla-regis.blogspot.com/, of" EDWARD BECKMANN "http://edwardbeckmann.blogspot.com/of "CONRADBECKMANNhttp://conradbeckmann.blogspot.com/
 of "CARL DOPMEYER"http://carldopmeyer.blogspot.com/ and, of course of this  Blog, "BUT NOUGHT".

But many things change as time rolls on. I shall be the Catholic, the Husband, the Father and the Grandfather until God calls me away. And I hope to be able to continue FOUNDATION for years yet and the same with the Blogging.I shall remain the Queenslander always in spirit, though in the coming months my wife and I shall be moving back to Sydney to draw "the wagons into a circle" around the majority of our relatives and our oldest friends as the "enemy" 9advancing years begins to close in.

There, little identity analysis is complete. I am reduced to the core elements now.The time for adding features may be past. But then again one of my favourite quotes is:

"Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die."

"Ulysses"  Alfred Lord Tennyson

Who knows what God has in store for any of us? His Will be done !

MEMORIES - RE-DISCOVERED.

My Childhood Home - Picture taken in 1960s can be dated by TV Antenna
Which definitely puts it after the introduction of TV in 1956 and we did not get a TV until about 1961
AND my car a second hand 1961 VAUXHALL CRESTA ( Panoramic Windscreen! Leather Upholstery and a Radio !!!), so I think this is about 1964/65. 

When life was simple......for most children, little children that is, life is simple. It may be delightful,dull,harsh, even, hurtful but it is usually simple, due to the limitations of the little child's developing brain. A piece of cake can induce ecstasy, a teaspoon of peas may induce reactions of tragedy.

My pre- school years were mostly centred around my parents of course and lived out in our small , two bedroomed home pictured above. I was not conscious of being in any way deprived . I was always well-fed with the prudent necessities of food and regularly enjoyed delights beyond the necessities - including Mum's sponge- cakes: from time to time  true delights.

The weatherboard ( what Americans call "clapboard "I believe), house had a corrugated iron roof, which could produce a not unpleasant noise when rain was soft, but was  totally deafening in heavy rain, let alone hail. It did not look the way it does in the photo ( taken in the late 1960s) . The house had been built in the mid 1920s , and when I was very young we did not yet own it.In those early 1940s its paintwork looked more than a little tired, the front fence was in need of repair, there was no concrete driveway (and as I have said, no car in any case), the double gates for car entrance were wooden , and not well built so that they sagged and had to be lifted to open. Of course there was no TV aerial seen in the photo. That came several years after the introduction of T.V. in  1956, around 1959 I think .

My Dad worked Shiftwork in those years at the Garden Island Dockyard.In fact he worked Shiftwork even when he later worked for the Metropolitan Water Sewerage and Drainage Board at nearby Potts Hill Pumping Station and later at Ryde Pumping Station for the few years before his retirement.Dad's Shiftwork meant that he was not as significant a factor in my bringing up as he might otherwise have been,He worked Morning , Afternoon and Night Shifts in weekly succession with a break of about four days at the end of each cycle. Night Shift was the worst week for me because Dad left home about 7.30 to 8.00 p.m. to start at 9.00 p.m. When he arrived home about 6.00 - 6.30am he went straight to bed and would not be up until about 2.00 p.m. This meant "SHHH!Remember Dad's asleep!" Echoing in my ears whenever I wanted to do anything amusing.Especially in the small house with its timber floors and linoleum floor coverings of the time.
I subsequently learned that the War had prevented us enjoying a lot of things such as chocolates, sweets and soft drinks, and Ration Books ruled the domestic economy - a Socialist's heaven. But now and then Dad's work at the Dockyard paid off. Servicemen were not denied these little luxuries and some were happy to trade their issue or sell it. So, coming off Night Shift and arriving home as I was having breakfast he would often reach into his pocket , and with feigned surprise "find"a small bar of chocolate or some other treat for me.

Dad used to travel to and from Garden Island by a workers Ferry from Circular Quay, then walk to or from Wynyard underground Railway Station to home. At Circular Quay on the Eastern Corner of Pitt Street was Plasto's "SHIP INN"a regular port of call and centre of "devotion"on his way home. Each year we used to have brought home the large format Calendar of the "SHIP INN" which always featured large black and white prints of sailing ships that had frequented Sydney Harbour and in many cases, Circular Quay itself.
Afternoon Shift was not so bad family wise,. Dad left after an early Lunch and got home about 11.00 p.m.
Morning Shift was almost like a normal family , though Dad was gone before I got up he was home in time for Dinner or "Tea"as we always called it ."Dinner"was the Lunchtime Meal.

My Mother was the constant loving presence, the true "hub"of the little family. For my Dad, though he was never cruel or harsh, was not good at any display of affection. I have no recollection of him hugging me, lifting me up or kissing me.It was a not uncommon phenomenon amongst men of the time as literature now shows.( Indeed the Poet James McAuley in the poem "Because"relates the extreme case of his own father :

"Having seen other fathers greet their sons,
I put my childish face up to be kissed
After an absence. The rebuff still stings."

Mum, God bless her, was the very model of loyalty, love and kindness , thinking always of others, ever ready to blame herself for whatever went wrong. Dad's mealtimes were always rigidly observed as if by the most sacred Rubrics. And it didn't matter if this meant her getting up in the depths of Winter to get his breakfast at some ungodly hour when dawn was still a long way off, or having a very late Dinner on the table when he came home at 11.00 pm on the relative Shift. When he came home at night she always had the external light at the back burning bright "to welcome him home".

We all dressed simply, Wartime Clothing Rations ensured that was the case.But there was always a set of "Best"clothes for going out, which would mean perhaps a visit to Grandma Beckmanns (interesting - I typed that automatically, but that was what I called it - Not Grandma & Grandad Beckmann's)or to nearby Auburn which had several important shops, or further afield to Burwood , Parramatta Road to the North and Liverpool and Canterbury Roads to the South .Then again there were trips, sometimes weekly, to the City.

My brother Pat did not feature largely in my life. He was born in 1929 , and so was 11 when I came on the scene, During the War-years he was completing his High School to 3rd Year and then went off to work - not exactly the years he might want to be involved with a baby brother. But in any case I have no memories of him at that time. Interesting really, in later years when his life started going wrong, he would always, or often anyway, reproach Mum & Dad for his shortcomings with the refrain : "He (me) was always the favourite"  now that I reflect on it, I wonder how far back his resentment went . Maybe the arrival of baby me was to him wholly unacceptable. Mum and Dad always spoke of Pat having been "spoiled" by Grandma Dixon and the Aunts and Uncles around in Third Avenue. Even to the extent of giving him a pushbike Mum and Dad had said he couldn't have; whatever he couldn't get at home, he got at Grandma's.Ah, well....

Almost all of my toys were War themed. My pride and joy was a sheet tin toy  - a tank with a little plane attached to it by a wire arm. When you wound the tank up it would go along and the plane would rise up on its wire arm until the tank shot at it with friction sparks! There were the usual lead soldiers and I had a small fort which I think was desert/Foreign Legion themed.Later there was a very small HORNBY most basic wind-up train Red Engine and two carriages I think and a simple circle of track. When Santa came at Christmas he left my few presents in a Pillow Case always left at the foot of my bed for his convenience and he was always provided with a hefty chunk of Mum's delicious Christmas Fruit Cake and a small bottle of Beer! Good old Santa!

So, I had a very nice early childhood thank you Mum & Dad. Whatever your troubles, and photos show the strain of those post Depression War years, you did not let them get to me - models of parental care - thank you!

P.S. I used to play in the dirt under the house when I could, building roads and dirt houses, but always close to the side which in later years had the driveway, the Northern side which let the Sun shine in there. I discovered my brother's much earlier diggings under there too - gave the effort something of an archeological flavour. The discovery of some Red- Back spiders later made the spot forbidden.