The Musings Of An Opinionated Sod [Help Me Grow!]


A Glimpse Of The Future …

Every Saturday, the Guardian Newspaper runs a feature where they interview 2 people who have been out on a blind date over dinner.

And every week, they ask the same questions to both parties.

Sometimes they find love …
Sometimes they find a friend …
Sometimes they find their worst nightmare …

… but it’s always an enjoyable read.

Now while you may think my favourite stories are when the couple hate each other – and some truly do, with a total inability to hide their distain behind their one word, printed answers – that’s not actually my favourite.

As soppy as it sounds, it’s quite marvellous when people find someone they want to see again. Maybe it’s because it’s so rare, or maybe it’s because I’ve found my inner-romantic in my old age, but it’s really lovely.

The thing that makes it even more warming is how they answer the questions.

It’s not simply that they say, “I really like him/her”, it’s the way their answers have a real warmth and respect for the other person. It’s not simply about what they feel, they describe how the other person made them feel. It’s delightful and a very different experience to people who didn’t like their date.

Some get very personal.

Expressing themselves in a way that shows they genuinely think they were aesthetically, intellectually or morally superior. Which, of course, has the result that you find them actually the uglier person inside and out.

Anyway, a few weeks ago, I read about these 2:

Sadly Johnny – 24 and an artist – and Gen – 23 and a post-grad student – didn’t hit it off. But I couldn’t stop looking at their picture.

Or more specifically Johnny’s.

Not because I’m a weirdo, but I kept thinking how he looked like an older version of this one:

Yes … the hair is a big part of it, but there’s other things.

The gentle face.
The compassionate energy.
The wry smile.

I know it’s ridiculous, but it felt like I was seeing my son in 18 years time.

You see, when you’re 51 … your father died at 60 … and your son is 6 … you start to think about death a hell of a lot more.

I don’t like it. I don’t like how it sometimes makes me feel. I don’t like how stupid it can make me … but the reality is there is a chance I won’t make it to see Otis at Johnny’s age and that terrifies me.

I mean, I hope I do.

I hope I live a lot longer than that.

But then my Dad wished he could have seen me get married and become a Dad and he never got that chance … so seeing Johnny felt like a bit of a gift. A chance to glimpse the future, which I appreciate sounds utterly stupid. Because it is.

But it gets worse.

I found myself reading Johnny’s answers over and over again – wanting to make sure he was a nice guy because for a moment, I’d convinced myself that meant Otis would be to. [Good news. They both are, hahaha]

Then I found myself wondering what sort of artist he is and how he got there.

Is he happy?
Is he fulfilled?
Will he achieve what he hopes?

Obviously all of this had triggered my fears and insecurities … projecting the life of a complete stranger who looks a bit like my son on to my son.

Fortunately Otis – who was sat next to me at the time – was living in his own world playing Roblox on his iPad, not giving a fuck that his Dad was having a bit of a meltdown, hahahaha.

So to Johnny, I want to apologise.

I’m sorry an old bloke got kind of obsessed with you for a minute.
I’m sorry I temporarily stole your life to give it to my son.
I’m sorry Gen and you didn’t click. [though you may be happy about that too]

And to Otis …

Well my wonderful boy, know I love you.

Know I wish I could be here forever … to be near you.

To see you grow and blossom. To watch you discover a life of adventure and fulfilment. To witness the choices you make and the life you create.

I hope I see you at 24 and beyond.

And I hope you know my interest in Johnny was not because I want you to live his life, but because I just want to see you live yours.

For decades.

Rx




Deliberately Ignorant …

Once upon a time, a creative friend of mine rang me up.

He had been offered a job in China and wanted to hear my perspective on being there.

During the conversation, he asked if the pollution was bad.

When I asked why he was asking, he said he was pretty susceptible to asthma and while on his visit to the agency there, he had felt a bit ill, despite the weather being good.

He had asked some of his prospective workmates if they felt the weather was ever bad for breathing and they all said no and he wanted to know my take on it.

I laughed.

Not just because it’s pretty well documented the air there is not great, especially for an asthmatic – despite the government being the biggest investor in green technology in the World – but because it reminded me of something my Dad had told me while watching the Tom Cruise movie, A Few Good Men.

I know this is going off on a tangent, but hang in there.

You see, at the scene where Jack Nicholson spouts his immortal “You Can’t Handle The Truth” line, my Dad burst out laughing.

When I asked why, he said this:

“There are occasions where people will openly deny truth. Not because they hold a different opinion, but because to accept it means they would have to accept their complicity in a situation truth has revealed. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement means people are forced to face and question the motives and values they conveniently chose to hide away”

His point was literally what my friend had experienced.

The prospective colleagues he asked about weather conditions knew full-well there is pollution in the air. However, their mind had almost forced them to forget it. Not because they were liars or bad people, but because if they admitted the truth, then they would be forced to ask themselves why they were there when they knew it was likely to be doing them harm.

We experience this every day.

Deliberate ignorance.

From people hired to purchases made.

Not because people are bad, but because we don’t want face the questionable decisions we’ve chosen to make to benefit our personal circumstances over health, values or friendship.

Which is why my mate decided not to go to China.

The moral of the story.

Remember people sometimes don’t tell you what they think, they tell you what protects them from you knowing what they think.



Happy Birthday Dad …

Today would be my Dad’s 83rd birthday.

The age Mum died.

That means he has been gone 23 years.

Twenty three!

That’s almost unfeasible for me to comprehend.

And while I am now 51 … married … and a father … I still feel his little boy, a kid who needs and wants his Dad.

But as today would be his birthday, it would be my turn to look after him.

Make sure he felt spoilt and loved.

And for me, that would mean getting him something that was a ridiculous enjoyment, because he – and Mum – taught me a gift is something you want but could never justify in getting.

Of course they never followed their own advice, because when I would ask them what they wanted, they’d either say, “nothing, but a card” or something insanely practical.

I never listened to them.

And while my kid version of ridiculous enjoyment was limited by price – and imagination – right now, I would get him something that would push the boundaries of his wildest expectations.

Which would be a canary yellow, 1970’s Rolls Royce Corniche convertible with white-wall wheels.

I have no idea why he loved that car so much.

He sure as hell never drove one.

I don’t even know if he ever sat in one.

But throughout my childhood that would be the car he would constantly talk about and point to.

He even had a terrible Dad joke about them which he would tell me on an almost weekly basis.

Which is why I would do all I could to get him one today.

It might be a bit knackered.

It might not be able to go long distances.

He might only be able to afford one tank of fuel.

But to see his face as I led him outside to see his present, would be magical.

Of course, Dad isn’t here …

I can’t celebrate his birthday with him.

So instead, I ordered this on eBay …

It might not be the real thing.

It might not be a convertible.

And it might not have white wall wheels.

But it is my way of letting my Dad know he’s still with me, even though he’s not.

Not to mention, he’d probably love receiving it nearly as much as he would a real one.

Happy birthday Dad, I hope Mum is spoiling you rotten.

Love you.

Rx



One Day In September …
September 1, 2021, 8:00 am
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Anniversary, Comment, Dad, Emotion, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Singapore

Today is an important day, because back in 2007, Jill and I got married in Singapore.

We wanted it low-key [read: easy] so we hired out our favourite restaurant – Coriander Leaf – told all the locally invited guests it was an engagement dinner [we told our overseas guests what was going on or they wouldn’t have bothered coming] and then, when everyone turned up, we announced our true intentions and got married in front of our family and friends.

Yes I was wearing Birkenstocks.
[Mind you, so was Jill, albeit expensive Heidi Klum ones]

Yes, with hindsight, the Diet Coke Fountain was a stupid idea as everything fixed up and all the glasses got hidden by fizz and foam.

Yes, importing the wedding cake from Australia was a bloody nightmare.

But even with all that, it was a truly special day to celebrate the best decision of my life.

I still remember the joy my Mum had on her face.

As you can see from the photo below, she was so happy.

Not just that I was getting married … but I was getting married to Jill, who she adored in every possible way from the moment she met her.

Of course I wish Dad could have been there, but we took a photo of him with us and so in a way he was … and that made everything feel complete. What made it even better was Jill had her parents there, who hadn’t been in the same room together – as one lives in Australia and the other in Canada – for over 20 years, so it really was a family affair.

Marriage gets a tough wrap these days.

But for me, it has been amazing.

And while Jill and I were living together for years before we made it official, making it official did change things.

I don’t know why given not much changed.

And I don’t know if I can properly put into words what did change.

But for me, it led to a greater feeling of commitment … a deeper connection … a bit more wonderful. Now marriage is a deeply personal affair and people will have many different perspectives, but from mine, I can tell you it was – and remains – the best thing I have done.

Even more than buying Audi’s and Robot Dogs.

THAT’S how brilliant it is.

But while that day all those years ago is filled with wonderful moments, I have to say the one that sticks out the most is when my colleague, Angela, came to the restaurant straight from the gym … thinking it would be a couple of drinks before she could go home.

I love that she stayed when she realised what was going on.

I love that she stayed when she realised how she looked.

I love that she didn’t hit me when I mentioned it in my speech.

Because while she was mortified to turn up to a wedding in her post-gym sweats … ironically it made it even more perfect for us.

So thank you Angela.

But most of all, thank you Jill.

Happy anniversary my wonderful wife. I bloody love you.

[Even though I know you will have forgotten it’s our anniversary, haha]



What Sort Of Sick Bastard Comes Up With Stuff Like This?
August 17, 2021, 8:00 am
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Comment, Cunning, Dad, Daddyhood, Fatherhood, Jill, Mum & Dad, Otis, Parents

When I was a kid, the Rubik’s Cube came out and a nation was transfixed.

My Dad bet me 5 pounds I couldn’t do 2 sides and 50 pounds I couldn’t do it all.

Now back then, this was big money … and given we didn’t have that sort of money to throw about, I can only assume he suggested it because he knew I wouldn’t be able to do it.

He was right.

So I took it apart and put it back together arguing he hadn’t specified how I solve it.

He admired my attempt to win on a technicality, but still didn’t pay up.

Over the years, the Rubik’s Cube has made a number of comebacks, and while I loved watching the documentary on ‘cubers’, I never engaged with any of them again.

Till now.

Otis has become OBSESSED with them.

But unlike the relatively simple 3×3 I had back then, there are literally hundreds of different combinations.

From cubes that transform into different shapes which means everything gets even more insane … to different shapes that have more sides/combinations to solve that ever before … to cubes where each square is split into two colours to make things even more maddening … to cubes that go up to 33 x 33, which surely is basically some form of modern torture!!!

And while Otis doesn’t have all of them and can’t solve any of them fully – yet – he is transfixed.

Constantly playing, trying, exploring, learning, solving [2 sides] and I have to say I find it amazing.

Amazing for what he is doing and amazing that technology has become so much part of his normal life, that cubes … CUBES … offer a tempting distraction.

Of course I still can’t do any of them.

And of course Jill can do most of them.

Which all goes to prove the person who said ‘practice makes perfect’ either didn’t know what they were talking about or – as I fear – I am just really, really pathetic.

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Update: Since I wrote this post, Otis has got more cubes and can now do a 3×3 on his own. Me? I remain proudly consistent in my cube performance abilities.