TWENTY ONE TO-DAY - BUT NOT WHAT YOU MIGHT EXPECT

JOHN JOSEPH DIXON (L of Photo) around 1911
WITH HIS MOTHER, ALBERT (R)
AND BABY BROTHER BILL WHOM DAD GREATLY ADMIRED

To-day ,Saturday 11th May, 2013 is the Twenty First Anniversary of my Father's death just three weeks short of his 85th Birthday. He survived the death of my Mother by almost 21 years .

Sent to work at age 11 years in a metal foundry, he had a pretty tough life.

HERE, IN 1927 DAD LOOKS LIKE THE TYPICAL YOUNG BANKER OR CIVIL SERVANT
WHICH HE WAS NOT, HE ALWAYS WORKED IN BLUE COLLAR OCCUPATIONS

His life experience together with his local social network, made him a lifelong Labor Party voter. He persevered in this even after he said he was convinced that the Labor Party was riddled with Communists whom he despised - he just could not bring himself to desert the "working class party". And in fact he did see the world and the nation in those Victorian era Class terms.

My Dad was born a Catholic and educated in a Convent School, but for long periods did not practise his religion. Yet when his "kind eyes"won the heart of Miss Elsie Georgina Beckmann a petite and beautiful,modest girl from a devout Evangelical Protestant family , he required that they be properly married in the Catholic Church. Miss Beckmann was instructed in the Faith and duly became a Catholic, and they were married in 1927.

To-day's cynicism might suggest that he was being hypocritical. But in those days people were honest about doing wrong  - he knew it was wrong not to practise his religion, but he also knew that there are absolutes of such importance that you don't abuse them : he would not betray his Religion, even if he did not practise it - that Truth was bound to him for life.

When I was born, Dad was 32 years old ,he was never unkind to me, but not outgoing or physically demonstrative of his love. ( The Poet James Macauley writes powerfully of his own Father's inability to physically express any affection.) He worked on the construction of the great Garden Island Graving Dock, for the Navy. This was a protected employment category, which stopped him being sent on labour battalions to Darwin when he received the call-up. He could not be in the regular forces because of faulty eyesight resulting from an accident at the Foundry when he was about 13 yrs old.

As I grew up, all my interests were largely alien to my Dad except Politics, and even then we were on opposite sides of the fence!Only after many years did  I hear that Dad was very proud of my progress in Banking  and in other areas and used to regale his regular drinking mates at the hotel in Lidcombe with my latest efforts. We almost never got to talk at any length on  any subject , conversation being limited to brief exchanges of statements never pressed too far lest the heavy crunch of disagreement should wreck things.

Dad worked hard all through his life, and for most of my life after the War, he worked in the hot dirty atmosphere of Potts Hill Water Pumping Station , which he rode to and from on a bicycle in light and dark ( for he was a shift worker) and in summer heat and driving rain.It was about a twenty minutes bike ride each way.

In my twenties and thirties , I could of course, perceive all my Father's faults with clinical efficiency, whilst making every allowance for any tendency  to deficiency on my part. As the years went by my Dad evolved, particularly after he came to see the devastating effect on my Mum's fragile mental health following a Hysterectomy. He came to see in time how cruel was the effect of stubborn,sullen silences - sometimes lasting 3 days - over some exaggerated "offence"on someone so vulnerable. He was transformed.

He also returned to the practise of the Faith which was very pleasing to see and took great delight in his three grandchildren, Marianne, Justine and Matthew and never ceased urging me to look after my wife!

But still he could not freely and easily communicate either emotions or ideas.Whether or not this disability stemmed from the treatment he received from his brutish and drunkard Father, I cannot say for sure, but if I were a betting man......

Dad's later years were plagued by troubles with his heart - suffering from an "enlarged heart"which caused recurring build-ups of fluid around the heart, these required repeated hospitalisation to relieve them but there could be no cure.

In fact he had just successfully completed one such routine and was about to be released when he suffered a heart attack and died. The Catholic Chaplain to the Auburn Hospital where Dad died was quickly on the spot to minister to  his poor body and pray for his soul. His name was Father Stephen Swift and I was most impressed by the card he left endorsed with all that needed to be done to ensure a proper Catholic burial - for he knew nothing of the family.

We were living in Brisbane at the time and I received a call from my Brother Pat telling me of Dad's death and saying that the Hospital  wanted to perform an autopsy. I was on the first plane down next morning and went straight to see the Doctor in Charge -  a young Asian gent. He was prompt to offer condolences and almost as prompt to proffer a form authorising an autopsy for signature. When I objected that they clearly knew the cause of death, and that  this was unnecessary, the form quickly disappeared into the pocket of his white coat. I informed him that after the long periods of my Dad's health problems, I did not want his body used for training purposes. This is a matter which I believe the Hospital handled very badly to say the least.

1947 WITH MY DAD IN PITT STREET SYDNEY

So John Joseph "Jack"Dixon I love you dearly and hope we have the opportunity to understand each other far better in Paradise.My prayers for the repose of your soul and of Mum's are daily made, because time is irrelevant in eternity.

THE CAMERA AND THE TRUTH

1947  - ME IN KHAKI SHORTS WITH MUM & DAD
AT THE BACK OF OUR WEATHERBOARD HOME

When I retrieved this photo at the time I commenced this Blog, I found it to be very revealing. Now, I was already quite familiar with it. It had been around and accessible since the film had been developed ( how quaint that sounds in the era of the digital camera and the computer!). But now I really looked at it - as if for the first time!

We were "poor"! God bless Mum & Dad - I never knew it. At that time we rented the house at 22 Second Avenue, Berala. Although Dad had re- painted it internally, externally he left it as the owner kept it. The house was not very old, dating from the immediate pre-Depression period. It was completed as I understand it,  in early 1929 and I believe Mum and Dad and my elder brother Pat were its first tenants.

But "poor"or not, Mum and Dad had that fierce working class self-respect of the time, that ensured that we always "scrubbed up "well when we went out - as the picture of me and my Dad in Pitt Street, Sydney also in 1947 shows. We were photographed by one of the many street photographers who, with their trim Leica 35mm cameras, abounded in immediate post War Sydney.

With my  Dad in 1947 outside the Metropolitan Water Sewerage and Drainage Board's  Head Office in Pitt Street Sydney. Note my Beach Bucket(tin) with the image of the "Queen Mary"on it and Dad's Gladstone Bag 

Either photo, taken by itself would tell a very different story.

Again, when I look closely at the first photo , I am distressed to see how completely worn and even ill, my poor Mum looks. She may in fact have been suffering the problems that led to her having a hysterectomy in about 1951. I knew nothing of these things  until Mum was hospitalised at Saint Joseph's Hospital in nearby Auburn for the operation.

Later still in 1954 the owner of the house died and  the Real Estate Agent came to our home to tell us that the place was to be auctioned. I was there and I can recall Mum being quite upset thinking that we might have to move. The Agent wasn't a bad fellow . He carefully explained the process , stating that he would be standing at the top of the steps on the front verandah, and that bidders would be at the bottom of the steps - "Don't worry he said , there might not be many and I will not call out too loud!"

As it happened, the market then was very quiet it seems. Although there were a few curious neighbours , there were no bidders and the property was "passed in"at auction. So Mum and Dad were able to negotiate to purchase the place for 800 Pounds with the aid of a loan from my maiden Aunt Nell to whom Mum and Dad had always been very kind.

In due course Dad, now a home owner set to work and, totally through his own labour, transformed the property: clearing the blackberry infestation from the Northern side and laying a concrete driveway from the new wrought iron gates he installed,replacing the front fence ,  adding a new kitchen and laundry, closing in the rear verandah , re-furbishing the bathroom and installing first a gas heater at the bath and later a hot water service for the whole house  and finally he opened out the Lounge Room onto the Dining Area freed up by the new kitchen. It was an extraordinary effort for a part time amateur. In the course of those works over the years we went from an Ice Box  to a gas Refrigerator ( Silent Knight brand) to an American Crosley Refrigerator. And the hand operated wringer on the Laundry concrete tubs gave way to a barrel shaped Simpson Electric Washing Machine ( Agitator type) later replace by a Hoover. And finally the clothes lines stretched across the backyard gave way to a Hills Rotary Hoist which was ultimately supplemented by a an electric Clothes Dryer. He also re-roofed the house and re-painted it externally.There seemed to be no practical project he would not put his hand to, and he never failed to achieve a good result. Well done that Dad!
Alas the "practical genes"did not get through to me!

Most of this transformation took place in the second half of the 1950s - a time of great prosperity in Australia as the country found its feet and recovered vigorously after the War under the brilliant Menzies Coalition Government  which ruled for 23 years. The Great Depression and Wartime Austerity were shaken off completely and a new self- confident era  evolved.

In this period we were certainly no longer "poor"  by anyone's standards, rather we had become inhabitants of the burgeoning lower middle class in our lifestyle, and as I came into my 20s I felt few direct inhibitions to my progress in life. Though it must be noted , that given their own backgrounds, my dear Mum and Dad were not so well placed to advise me.Not that it would probably have been possible at that age , when I of course knew everything.   

*AUSTRALIA DAY !

To-day I re-post with some minor amendment, some thoughts on AUSTRALIA DAY which I posted last year. Since our readers come from many corners of the globe , it seems appropriate that they should know something about the Country that has nurtured this Blogger, the product of Irish, German and English ancestry, and his feelings and beliefs about it.

AUSTRALIA

"CORE OF MY HEART, MY COUNTRY"

To-day is Australia Day! I thank God for bringing me to Conception and Birth in this remarkable Country.

Not the most beautiful country in the world, not the strongest country in the world, not the leading country in the world. You can have all that.

My Country is a place of real freedom, of real peace, of frank and trustworthy folk, whose friendship isn't feigned. An open, generally trusting people who are nevertheless not too easily fooled. They abhor pretension and if they have a fault it is a desire to ensure that no-one rises too high - it is called the "tall poppy syndrome" - tall poppies get cut down to size!

AUSTRALIANS GATHERED AT ANZAC COVE GALLIPOLI  -   LEST WE FORGET

Australians are a pragmatic people, no doubt a product of the sometimes harsh extremes of weather, and the lack of almost everything except land in early colonial days. As a result public discourse is not big on principles, but more on what will work. Our political system and legal system are born out of our English colonial origins. Our independence was sought and given, rather than fought for and won. We remain a constitutional monarchy, with the British Monarch's Governor - General (appointed on the recommendation of our democratically elected Government) as our Head of State, but our pragmatic nature makes the majority of Australians see that we are really and factually independent and advocates of a Republic have been unable to gain traction. The system works, the pragmatists don't need to fix it.

AUSTRALIAN ICONS

Politically, we are fairly evenly divided between political Conservatives and a Labor based group. The latter have a fragile balance of power in the Federal sphere at present, but seem certain to be rolled out of office at the next election. There is an underlying small "c" conservatism in the Australian psyche, which, combined with pragmatism, kills off such ideas as a Republic, identity cards, or anything that excites modern radicals.

One of the best summaries of Australia, the land, is contained in Dorothea Mackellar's 1904 poem "My Country”. It is a fine piece of work, addressed to many of the British citizens of Australia who, at the time it was written, would still speak of "home" and mean England! So it begins:

"The love of field and coppice,

Of green and shaded lanes,

Of ordered woods and gardens,

Is running in your veins.......................

I know, but cannot share it,

My love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country,

A land of sweeping plains,

Of ragged mountain ranges,

Of droughts and flooding rains............

Her beauty and her terror,

The wide brown land for me!

AYERS ROCK

An opal - hearted country,

A willful lavish land -

All you who have not loved her,

You will not understand,

Though Earth holds many splendors,

Wherever I may die,

I know to what brown country

My homing thoughts will fly!

AMEN to that!

Yet another lady, this time English - born Caroline Carleton, wrote in 1859 the Song of Australia which was set to music by the German Carl Linger. It won a competition sponsored by the South Australian Gawler Institute, for a patriotic song. It also has things to say, which merit attention, despite some of the flourishes of its time. It begins:

"There is a land where summer skies

  Are gleaming with a thousand dyes,

  Blending in witching harmonies, in harmonies;

  And grassy knoll, and forest height,

  Are flushing in the rosy light,

  And all above in azure bright-

  Australia!

BOUNTEOUS CROP IN WAKE OF DROUGHT BREAKING RAIN

........

  On hill and plain the clust'ring vine

  Is gushing out with purple wine,

  And cups are quaffed to thee and thine-

  Australia!                

  .........

  There is a land, where floating free,

  From mountain top to girdling sea,

  A proud flag waves exultingly,

  And freedom’s sons the banner bear,

  No shackled slave can breathe the air,

   Fairest of Britain's daughters fair,

   Australia!

I love it!  - Australia, Yes - But the Song of Australia too! Oh, I know it's more than a little over the top! But it has the spirit of my country. And any lady who can write about "gushing out with purple wine and cups are quaffed to thee and thine" has got my vote!

There is another patriotic song by Father Maurice Reilly C.M. Which is more subtle and substantive, which I also love, and which I first heard in First Class at my Convent School in 1946:

AUSTRALIAN NATIONAL HYMN

God bless our lovely morning land!

God keep her with enfolding hand

Close to His side.

While booms the distant battle's roar

From out some rude, barbaric shore.

In blessed peace forever more,

There to abide.

............

Land of the dawning! Lo! At last,

The shadows of the night are past;

Across the sea,

Is spreading far the purple light,

The lonely mountain peaks are bright,

And visions crowd upon the sight,

Of days to be.

"THE WARM OF HEART AND STOUT OF HAND"
CREW OF HMAS PERTH - LOST IN THE BATTLE OF SUNDA STRAIT
DEFENDING AUSTRALIA FROM THE EMPIRE OF JAPAN

The future is thine own, loved land,

The warm of heart, the stout of hand,

The noble mind,

Shall build a Nation truly great,

With Christ for King; where love not hate,

Shall be the charter of the State

To all mankind.

There is much more, all warm with faith in God and belief in Australia's promise.

PATRONISING  ENGLISH VIEW AT THE TIME OF FEDERATION !
THE AUSTRALIAN COMMENTS MIGHT HAVE SURPRISED THE CARTOONIST AND EDITOR

In fact, at the time of Federation there was a widespread confidence in Australia's unique character and mission to show the world a new way of true freedom and peace and justice for all. It was a heady idealism, which sadly seemed to be overwhelmed by the tragedy of the First World War, the Great Depression, and the crusade of the Second World War. It still survives in wisps of spirit which are caught here and there. But is largely lost to the national consciousness.

Let's not get too analytical - it is a day for Fair Dinkum CELEBRATION. With a very great deal to celebrate! We can save the “cerebration" for another day!

And so off to a Movie with my dear wife - “AUSTRALIA!” as Caroline Carleton would have exclaimed.

ZEROING IN - 1955 and 1956

It seems that the protracted cold referred to in my last post in July, last year(!!) froze my processes of recollection! In the last few days, a blast of heat reminiscent of my childhood years in 1944 and 1945, has however administered a jolt to the memory and summoned up the will ( it has also started the alleged "Global Warming" fanatics lifting their heads out of the long grass) .

So where was I , before I froze? Doesn't matter - I choose to resume by peering back to 1955 and 1956, come with me and see the cast of student characters assembled at Marist Brothers' Darlinghurst that was.

Marist Brothers Darlinghurst which was soon to be converted into expensive Apartments and a Town House

1955 4TH YEAR CLASS
ZEROING IN 1955 - MY BEST FRIEND AND FUTURE BROTHER-IN - LAW TONY HANNON EXTREME LEFT BACK ROW 

ZEROING IN 1956 TONY HAS MOVED TO THE RIGHT A LITTLE IN THE BACK ROW, WHILST YOUR SCRIBE HAS MOVED DOWN TO THE FOURTH ROW DOWN THIRD FROM THE RIGHT - AND HAS OBVIOUSLY BEEN WATCHING TOO MUCH LENI RIEFENSTAHL!

The photos above are now 57 and 56 years old respectively. It is interesting that what they do in my mind is summon up a series of brief thumb-nail sketches of a remarkably diverse range of rapidly forming personalities.  I can't share them all in full and one or two might be deemed libelous in any case, so I shall confine myself to a very few.

 It needs to be borne in mind, that the majority of the Class were longtime students of "Darlo"as it was affectionately known, but in the year I transferred in on my own, a group of boys from Marist Brothers Bondi, which had closed in an Archdiocesan Schools rationalisation, came to Darlo. I think about 10 of them were in our class, including Tony Hannon (now my Brother-in-Law). Tony and I  shared many interests in common, but especially History and movies and Goon Show humour. We frequently went to the movies together and bushwalking, and in later years each had a bewildering succession of cameras and cars. Zany humor was the order of the day and the Goon Show was the ideal grist for our mental mills. Here was a friendship that was to last through the decades and I would anytime trust my life to Tony.

I guess I was rather reserved with most people in those days , so I did not form close friendships with  students other than Tony - living 12-14 miles away to the West didn't help in that regard. I was always coming from, or going to, a different place to everyone else.

 I got to know a little and to like, the irrepressible Roger Constable, an engaging fellow, who delighted in projecting himself as a daring sort of rogue. He was a good guy with no harm in him that I saw. We ended up together in both Class Photographs above( he standing to my right as we look at the photo) and in 1955 the slight inclination of the head and my slightly contorted mouth show that he had just muttered one of his gags and I was trying to repress a laugh. By 1956 my Leni Riefenstahl training had overcome any such risk!

Considering the diverse make-up of Australian society to-day we can see  a very few indications of what was developing. The few Chinese students were affable fellows, super whizzes at Maths. The last of their number to arrive spoke almost no English and certainly had a very hard time as he began his 4^th and 5^th Year Studies!!He was very popular because of the way in which he struggled on in the face of this impossible adversity, and was always treated kindly in a jocular fashion becoming known as “ Curly” in that perverse type of Aussie humor!

An interesting phenomenon which I only realise now, as I write, was the fact that the subjects we took and the formal activities we engaged in, began to determine the possibilities of forming friendships, much more so than in earlier years of schooling. Thus school began to provide a foretaste of life in tertiary institutions and, indeed, life itself.

As I look on the photos now, I see those who went on to become a Solicitor – mover and shaker, a Barrister, a Doctor, a Dentist, several Teachers, and a briefly famous Merchant Banker. Strangely enough in all my years since school, apart from Tony Hannon for obvious reasons, I have only ever met two of those former fellow students. Considering the variety of circles in which I have moved, in The Commonwealth Bank, in the French Bank, in the Australian – American Association, in the Royal Australian Naval Reserve and in the Church in various places, that seems to me to be very unusual, and quite surprising.  But out of all of us, as far as I am aware, there was not one Priest, though I know at least 5 had considered the possibility, and I was briefly in the Minor Seminary in 1956. I often wonder what became of them all.

All too soon real life was to take us “cogs” up in its gearbox, and schooldays and their concerns and joys and pains would swiftly disappear in the rear vision mirror, as life moved into Top Gear whirring us away all over the place.

IT SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN COLD FOREVER

OK This picture is not taken in Sydney,
but it accurately portrays how I feel! 

This appallingly cold weather is not part of MY social compact with the Commonwealth of Australia! It is a brilliant sunny day here in Sydney, but it is as if someone left the Cold Room Door open! A miserable 14 Degrees Celsius is the result of a chill wind oddly blowing from the North East here at Pymble - from the sea, would you believe? Now, I can live with the occasional errant cold day, but this type of thing has gone on now through this present Winter (OK) , through last Autumn (Hmmmm) , through last supposed to be Summer and right back through the preceding year even back in Brisbane!!!


What is this? No - it is NOT Global Warming and I'm sorry to tell you it is not even Climate Change ( the euphemism adopted when it became obvious that Global Warming was a heap of rubbish!) it is just crummy weather.


But I can remember.....Summer days...drifting away ...( oh! that's from Grease!) But, yes I can remember warm Sunshine ... on my shoulders makes me happy ( darn John Denver!) ....scented breezes ..and swaying palms ( oh Heck "Rose, Rose I love you! - Frankie Laine!) How come all the songs celebrate Summer and now we don't get any. 

Sydney Summer  Opera House and Opera Bar

But they were great times, bouncing along in a mini-Moke on Magnetic Island , or the same vehicle called a Fiji Go-Go in those blessed islands. Or riding on the Manly Ferry South Steyne crowded with beach goers, eating Smiths Crisps and gawking at the warships at Garden Island Dockyard. Or sitting  on the back verandah at Berala with the family, sweltering in the early evening , and waiting for my brother to return in his 1938 second hand Vauxhall Tourer with some Ice Blocks to cool us down!And more recently with the whole family sauntering around Cairns eating a cooling ice cream in brilliant hot sunshine.Or Christmas Day in about 2005/6 with everyone at our home for Christmas Lunch and a temperature of 41 degrees Celsius! Who could forget it!

Beautiful Daughter contemplating warmer days

So, yes I can remember warm and wonderful Springs and Summers and even Autumns, shorts and T Shirts and sandals ! Oh Man! Why do I torture myself : the reality is T shirt,Jumper 1, Jumper 2, Vest and to go outside Jacket over all!


No Australia! I did not sign up for this! 


Nor did I sign up for that Fat Cat Global Warming Czar who is paid $180,000 P.A. to work three days a week to do nothing but prattle about his pet ideas - yes, you are right - the same guy who three years ago said the drought was permanent and it would never rain again - just before the floods! What a load of garbage!




Here endeth the rant! I just want the heat turned back on !

*QUEENSLAND - NOT JUST A PLACE, BUT AN IDEA, AN IDEAL

MAP OF QUEENSLAND

WELCOME to Queensland Australia! The distinctive shape of the Queensland coastline makes it easily recognisable , even if you live in the heart of the Russian republic. Queensland used to be the poorest of Australian States, but in recent decades it has shaken off that unhappy status to become, together with Western Australia, the envy of all Australian States. And even then Queensland has particular features which assure it premier status!

The great key to the success of Queensland and Western Australia is natural resources : coal, copper , gas,iron ore, alumina. But Queensland adds to its natural resources extraordinary tourist attractions along its sub-tropical to tropical coastline! And it has plentiful ( occasionally excessive) rainfall!It has the distinction of being the great preference of Australian interstate migration and the retirement destination of choice.

My wife and I have lived 20 of the last 25 years living in Queensland. With different members of my family , the whole family or alone, I have visited all of the coastal centres past Cairns up to Cooktown, across to Normanton and Weipa down to Mt. Isa and down to Goondiwindi east of Cunnamulla and up through the centre to Roma,Emerald, Barcaldine, Longreach and Cloncurry and across to Charters Towers. It is a State of remarkable diversity geographically from tropical jungles, to rolling plains and desert, to lush highlands.

Most of the Provincial cities have populations in the range of 30,000 to 70,000 people and their wide spread and relative independence, gives the State a diverse economy, which on occasion has isolated those Provincial parts from national trends. The heart of the State's population is concentrated upon the Brisbane /Gold Coast(to the South) and Sunshine Coast( to the North) .

In the post WW II decades the State has enjoyed massive economic growth with remarkable financial discipline under 23 years of unbroken conservative Government and after several following periods of Labor Government had progressively stumbled into a strongly adverse debt situation. Earlier this year in an electoral landslide, conservative Liberal National Party Government was restored in an unprecedented landslide.And the new broom is sweeping clean whilst pushing greater development.

But Queensland is more than a geographic location, an aggregation of industries and concentration of populations. 

In the minds of its people and even of other Australians, Queensland is "different". Up to the early 1960s this "difference" was an object of ridicule in the Southern States. The smirk has long since been wiped off those Southern faces - it is now replaced by looks of envy! But for Queenslanders it has always been a source of pride, and, in the sporting world in interstate competition , the cry of "QUEENSLANDER!"is an inspiring, awesome war cry! There are no cries of "New South Welshman!"(for obvious reasons) or even "Victorian"or other - No, Queensland is different! It is an abstract ideal, a mental concept that embodies ideas of personal satisfaction, progress, quiet self-confidence and faith in the future. Yes, and all with good reason. Queensland is DIFFERENT! 

WELCOME TO QUEENSLAND!

THE VERY BEST OF HANDS

SUNNY SYDNEY FROM THE AIR LOOKING
SOUTH TO BOTANY BAY

This is where I grew up, in the Western Suburbs off in the top Right Hand Corner of the above picture. But this story starts with that clear blue Aussie sky! And the relentless Sun which beams its UV Rays down on this big, bold and brassy town. I lived here from my birth in 1940 until 1982 when we moved to Brisbane after my appointment as Queensland Manager of the Banque Nationale de Paris ( formerly the Comptoir Nationale de' Escompte de Paris and now BNP Paribas).

Through all those years, I had been fairly careful to avoid sunburn apart from one or two occasional accidental incidents each decade or so. My German - Celtic - Anglo constitution left me with a complexion prone to sun damage. When I was about 6/7 yrs old, the local Doctor who later proved himself of no use whatsoever in relation to my poor Mum's health, had issued the warning that I was to be kept out of the Sun, wear a hat and cover my face and nose with white zinc ointment!

Now, if you know ANYTHING about young boys, they do not usually like to "stand out"by looking different. So the very thought of wearing the sticky muck of Zinc Ointment on my nose and cheeks, was anathema to me . If it was put on I wiped it off, and I would not volunteer to put it on. AND I have NEVER been a hat person!!! ( Though I own both a bash hat - for lawn -mowing : now History, and a Beret : French style awaiting a suitable occasion!). But, by and large I did , generally keep out of the Sun although...... Well, for many years I suffered no apparent ill effects from this life of daring!

Then,about a year after my wife and I were married, and after the birth of our first child - our "little ray of Sunshine"our daughter Marianne was born, a persistent tiny sore on the upper part of my nose near the left eye was diagnosed as a skin Cancer of the least dangerous kind - a B.C.C. Arrangements were made for it to be excised  and the Specialist Surgeon Dr. John Harvey Drew did a marvellous job under local anaesthetic at a Private Hospital at Eastwood where we then lived. Through the whole operation which involved a graft, executed with brilliant precision going just to the corner of the eye without pulling the lids or causing any distortion, was carried out while the doctor and I discussed the disaster that was the Whitlam Labor Government - fortunately we were both of the same opinion.

Well, the years went by and there were no more problems . The good times rolled - a second daughter, Justine was born in 1973. But in 1974 we lost a child through miscarriage - The disaster of that loss has been highlighted by how much better such losses are handled to-day. But 1975 restored our good fortune  and  our son Matthew was born. 

SUNNY BRISBANE - URBS BEATA

In 1982 we made the move to Brisbane in Queensland . Ah! Brisbane! Urbs Beata! The Blessed City 600 miles ( 1,000 Kms ) North of Sydney,in Sunny Queensland! "Beautiful one day! Perfect the next!" Life was good a lovely and loving wife, three wonderful children a fine corporate house and car and many other benefits and so many good and truly lasting friends. And the Sunshine!

After a few years I had on different occasions a number of spots removed, but none were actually cancerous.After 5/6 years we were transferred back to Sydney when I was promoted to Deputy and then Manager of the State of New South Wales . But the Bank was transforming itself into a pure Merchant Bank and I did not have that experience - I could see the writing on the wall . We had to spend about six months in Canberra sorting out a major problem there and seizing a multiple attraction opportunity back in Brisbane, I resigned.

I took up the position of Canonical Financial Administrator of the Archdiocese of Brisbane.We were back in the Sunshine State!

We were to be there on this occasion for 25 years before returning to Sydney last year.

I kept up a steady series of at least biennial visits to the Specialist who regularly checked me out for skin cancers. In 2008 he determined that a difficultly placed skin cancer on my right shin should be excised and grafted over , and at the same time he excised another on my nose (LH side) and covered by a "flap"- i.e. drawing the skin across it. The ankle operation was very delicate to ensure that the graft would take. It worked with a week's immobilisation which unfortunately resulted in DVTs which fragmented and caused the collapse of my right lung , which later came good with medication . It also resulted in months on Warfarin that pestilential medication that requires such close monitoring! But all came good and the nose operation also worked well.

The FIELD OF ACTION

We finally returned to Sydney in 2011 (ages 71 and 70yrs) to be closer to the majority of our family and oldest friends. Here I resumed consultations with doctors and a recurrence of the nose problem and another slowly developing area on my left temple led to the present phase of corrective surgery. 

At Royal North Shore Hospital 10 days ago a superb team of MOHS Surgery experts excised the left temple BCC ( as the Biopsy proved it to be) and under local anaesthetic ( involving needles in the temple - sounds like an Asian Novel!) did what they term a "flap". This involved a long incision down the side of my face immediately next the left ear ,down to the jaw and drawing the skin over the excision wound - all without distorting the noble visage! Neat! And the scar which will be very fine will tend to be less noticeable because of its location.

Part II - the Nose - is a different exercise - Biopsy showed mercifully that this was also a BCC, but - and we are talking fractions of millimetres here, it is rather deeper than can be covered by a graft. So.... in mid September its back to the ugly chocolate brick pile of Royal North Shore Hospital where my nose will become a two act show : Early A.M. Mohs surgery to excise the BCC, then straight away up to the Plastic Surgery Operating Theatre for another more ambitious and complex "flap". As the impressive, gentlemanly, and considerate young (35?)Surgeon explained it to me, this will involve a general anaesthetic and some borrowing of living skin from my forehead to temporarily place it on my nose for 3 weeks, then a return to put it back where it belongs !! Amazing stuff. Not convenient of course - my head will be heavily bandaged for the 3 weeks and less so for a further few weeks after the restoration . But I can handle that as long as I have the promised eye holes and I can get my headphones to my ears. During this period of "wrappedture"I hope to listen to the three volume Shelby Foote  history "The Civil War" and the Herman Wouk Novel "War and Remembrance"which has been recommended and given to me as an audiobook.

It would be helpful if I can move around readily - but that will depend on the quality of vision through the eye holes!! Wouldn't do to stumble!

My greatest regret is the burden it will place on my dear wife Robyn - living with a bandage headed old guy for around 5 weeks. But I recollect we went through something similar - though more brief- years ago with the roles reversed! 

So there you have it - the long term results of occasional unprotected exposure to the Sun!!  The real "white man's burden!"to use that vicious old British phrase! 

Happily for our grandchildren - as for our children before them - hats and Sunscreen are now just part of life. Yet when I was young, I remember reflecting that it was only silly older generations that wore hats - we were free of all that fashion! We do live and learn!

I hope to prepare a "Bank"of Posts I can put up during that period with the minimum of keystrokes!


The Surgeon assures me of the "best cosmetic result!"So,just like a Hollywood Star! Without the secluded Desert Retreat to hide away until presentable! As long as the result bears a reasonable likeness to my ordinary visage! Brings to mind the story of a painter who presented a portrait of Pope Leo XIII (POPE 1878 - 1903) to the Holy Father - it was awful! When the Holy Father later received one of the Cardinals whose attention was taken by the thing, Pope Leo quoted Our Lord : "Noli Timere, Ego Sum" ( Do not fear , it is I !)