This song has a lot to answer for.

Due to popular demand you can find today’s show here:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

Yes, it’s great fun.

Yes, I get paid to do this.

Yes, I’m a lucky woman.

Mark Tinson is my partner-in-crime for this kinda nonsense every Friday.

Today, former member of the Angles and Skyhooks, Bob Spencer phoned in.

Enjoy.

I did.

Right.  I need a shower.

Waiting for Daddy

Wow, isn’t this potentially murky territory.  The love/hate relationship we can have with our own flesh and blood.  I have three older brothers.  The eldest one I don’t actually remember living in the same house as.  He’s about 12 years older than me and he left home about 14 or 15 to accept an apprenticeship.  Funnily enough, he is the one that I now have the closest relationship with.  My own two sons adore him.  It’s a great relationship all round.  The middle one I get on well with, but he keeps to himself a bit … it’s fine, no problems, whatever.  But the one closest in age to me – at this stage let’s just say there is no relationship.  That’s a story for another day.  Maybe.

I didn’t want a daughter – god knows I was such a handful for my own mother that I dreaded the thought of it!  And so I was spared – I have two sons.  They’re still little, just 7 & 8 years of age, but they light up my life.

My husband talks about the problems he had growing up with his older brother and I suspect that’s just the way life goes.  Siblings.  Can’t live with them.  Can’t shoot them.  (My mother used to say this about in-laws … again … a story for another day.  Maybe.)

The relationship between my own two sons swings wildly from love to warfare.  Sometimes I worry about it, I worry that one day they will only have each other and I desperately hope that nothing comes between them.  At least nothing of a permanent nature.  They’re such different people, as all our kids are I guess.  These two are classic first and second born children. Number 1 son is a little bit anxious at times, has a bit of a sense of entitlement ahead of his younger brother, bosses his brother around in the most outrageous fashion, when enraged by his ‘pesky’ brother’s antics demands of me, “Why do I have to have HIM?”  Son number 2 is a far more laid back character.  Funny, sunny, oh yes definitely ‘pesky’ and knows exactly which of his big brother’s buttons to push to light his wick.  But … would defend his big brother to the death.  Sometimes I wonder if this is “Sibling Stockholm Syndrome” – on more than one occasion Number 2 son has been known to offer himself up to save his big brother from getting in trouble, has begged me not to send his brother to quiet time – even when he has utterly deserved it for his behaviour towards Number 2 son!  We had a very funny incident when Number 1 son started kindergarten.  He had been coming home for a few weeks telling us about another boy at school who hadn’t been very nice to him.  This went on for quite a few weeks.  We went off to school one afternoon to pick him up and Number 2 son tore out of my grip, ran up to the first small boy he saw and shouted, “Don’t you be mean to my brother!”

And yes, I know, there are a million books on ‘raising boys’, ’sorting out siblings’, ‘pecking order’ and so on and so forth.  Personally, I prefer to engage with these two pint-sized manlets when they become to aggrieved with each other and discuss their ‘problems’, try to help THEM sort through their own issues (sometimes complete nonsense) and sometimes … just sometimes … I tell them to go sort it out themselves!

My deepest wish, though, is that these two fine little boys will grow up to be fine young men who are always there for each other regardless of the challenges that are thrown at them as individuals, and as brothers.

With Kerry O'Brien

Until Kerry O’Brien, host of ABC TV’s 7.30 Report, came to town.

I know, I know, I also had my photo taken with the Prime Minister, Julia Gillard, but this is the one that sings to me!

What is it about KO’B?

Discuss.

James at 8 days - immediately after surgery

Maroussia.  The perfume.  Russian.  Cheap.  Strong.  Not bad if you’re into cheap, strong Russians.  (Ahem.  My husband is half-Russian … )

What’s that got to do with the rather graphic photograph of my youngest son?

It’s one of my strongest memories of this traumatic time.  The intensive care nurse assigned to James wore Maroussia.

It’s rather strange going through this two inch thick file of his medical records.  So many names – ’service providers’ – that I don’t recognise.  Which is because most of the people involved in his care over that mad two weeks I never actually met.  Reams of bills and invoices, tens of thousands of dollars worth.  Reams of medical records which detailed his every breath, every movement – and mine – during that time.  Measurements by the minute.  A thoughtless comment by a nurse who couldn’t possibly have understood what I was going through watching my son fight for his life.

Dr Cooper.  Were you one of the anaesthesiology team?

Dr O’Grady?  No idea.  Sorry.  Dr Sunjoto?  Dr Dennis?  Dr Taylor?  Doctors.  Lists of them.  Nurses.

I have no idea who you are or what you did for my son, but thank you.

Dr Buckner.  I clearly remember you holding up my newborn son for me to see and saying, “He’s perfect!”  Which, of course, he was.

Until he went blue.

Dr Shumack.  I had no idea that you didn’t know until months later that something had gone wrong.  I have a photo of you holding my my wailing son.

Jock & the newborn James

Dr Nunn.  You, sir, are a true hero.  I told you once –  as you were sitting on the floor playing with my then six week old baby – how grateful I am that there are people like you who are brave enough to put their great big hands into tiny little chests to try to fix delicate broken hearts.  I have no words for you.  Just gratitude.  And Dr Hawker, Dr Halliday, Dr Poki.  And countless others.

Blue.

I have no patience with the ‘natural birth vs caesarean’ bullshit.  Quite frankly a healthy mother and baby is *the best possible outcome* and if you disagree with that, you’re reading the wrong blog.

We had gone into the birth of our first son well-prepared, hoping to do it the old-fashioned way but accepting that sometimes things don’t go to plan.  Birthing centre was booked.  Bags were packed.  The day arrived and off we went to have our first child.  To cut a very long story short, after two days of labour an emergency caesarean delivered a gorgeous baby boy who had been starting to become a little distressed.  You should have seen his mother at that point!

Two years later and a different ob-gyn who asks me how I felt about that first birth.

“I_want_a_caesar_thank_you_very_much_I’ve_thought_about_it_there_is_no_way_in_hell_I’m_doing_that_again_so_we’ll_do_this_MY_way!”

So on the appointed day we drove to the lovely private hospital because I was doing it all differently to the way the first one had gone and I was not spending another 48 hours in labour.

It was actually really enjoyable.  A fantastic cast of medical characters who sail through caesars each and every day.  Jock – who I suspect could do these with his eyes shut.  Prasad – the funniest, most entertaining anaesthesiologist this side of anywhere.  ”G’day, I’m Prasaaaaad … what would you like?  Spinal or epidural?”  Oh, you mean I get to choose?  Then Prasad to his assistant, “Can you just hold that book open to page 7 so I can see how to do this again?”  Very funny, Prasad.  No, really.  I like your style.  You give great spinal.  A nurse from somewhere behind a mask, “Oh you’re off the radio, aren’t you?”  Me, “Not from that angle I’m not!”

Literally minutes later my husband said to me, “Oh, he’s nearly out, I’d better take a photo!”  True story.  Best. Caesar. Ever.  Thank you to everyone involved.

That brings us to the blue bit.

“Pink is good, blue is bad!”  No shit, Sherlock.

“Sticky lungs … we’ll pop him into the nursery with some oxygen for a couple of hours and he’ll be just fine.”  Oh, OK … well I guess I could do with a stitch or two at this point so I’ll just get that tended to while you get my boy’s lungs de-stickied.  ”He’s not improving.  I think it might be a problem with his heart.”  Phil, our paediatrician.  I suspect Phil felt like a shit at about this point after earlier telling me, “He’s perfect!”  Phil, however, not only worked out that it was likely to be a heart problem, but also which specific heart condition.

“Transposition of the Great Arteries.” he said, perched on the end of my bed.

What?  Is that bad?

“Yes.” said Phil and he proceeded to do a little illustration for me to explain that my baby son’s heart was, in a word, fucked.  His aorta and pulmonary arteries were switched.  ”He needs surgery – this is incompatible with life.  He may last a few days …”

I hadn’t held my little boy yet.  And it would be another two days before I did because later that afternoon they wheeled him to my room in his humidicrib on the way to the ambulance that would take him to the John Hunter Hospital for further tests and to await the neonatal transfer helicopter.   I gingerly put my hand through the little porthole on the side of the humidicrib and stroked his head.  Reeling.  In pain.  Physically and emotionally.  Raw distress.  Still paralysed from the ribs down.  Unable to go with him.

I had heard of ‘holes in the heart’ before, but the enormous world of congenital heart defects was completely unknown to me.  I feared that I would never see my son alive again.  I feared that he would die before I got to hold him.  Before they got him to the Children’s Hospital at Westmead where they would attempt to save his life.

James prepared for emergency flight to Sydney

Being freshly post-operative, they couldn’t let me go with my baby boy.  They transferred him to the John Hunter Hospital where the cardiologist, Dr Warner, arrived to examine James’s heart and prepare him for the transfer to Sydney with the neonatal intensive care team.  On arrival James underwent a balloon septostomy – basically a procedure to create a hole in his heart to allow his fresh and ‘blue’ blood to mix and to allow oxygenated blood to travel through his body.  Something that hadn’t been happening since his umbilical cord had been cut.

“Transposition of the great arteries with the aorta lying anterior and giving rise to a left aortic arch …”

I was transferred to Westmead by ambulance the following day – still not able to hold my new son.   Still believing he was going to die.  Shocked beyond belief.  Grieved beyond words.  How could such a tiny being possibly survive what they were saying needed to be done to him?

“Open his chest, sever and swap his aorta and pulmonary artery, and then sever and move both of his coronary arteries … the size of a hair in a newborn … ”

Eight days old.  That’s when his surgery was scheduled for.  The septostomy was to allow his blood to receive some oxygen and our job was to feed him up and await this enormous and frightening operation.  An Arterial Switch Operation – the ‘Jatene’ procedure, only successfully performed for the first time a decade or two earlier by a Dr Jatene.  Until his devised this operation, the only other surgical options were palliative.  OK, but not great.  Not a ‘fix’ or a repair.  But sometimes enough to allow people to survive to adulthood.

“Bypass time: two hours and twenty nine minutes.  Aortic cross clamping time: sixty eight minutes.  Core temperature: twenty eight degrees centigrade.  Cold blood cardioplegic arrest of the heart together with topical cooling repeated each twenty minutes ….”

They stopped my son’s heart.

James's heart - taken from Dr Nunn's headgear camera

I can’t really remember how long it took.  Hours.  I spent a good part of it with my head under a blanket in the parent’s hostel at Westmead.  Terrified that my son would die.

I’ve done some pretty tough stuff in my life.  Trying to resuscitate my mother is up there with the toughest.  But I think walking to the theatre with my tiny boy wrapped in a blanket and *handing him over* to the people who were going to cut his chest open and stop his heart … that was rough.  I can’t remember who we handed him to.  I think it was one of the anaethetists and a perfusionist.  Perfusion.  This is what they call getting you onto a heart-lung machine.  One of the reasons this sort of heart surgery is relatively new in babies is their tiny size.  Their hearts are the size of a walnut, their arteries and veins are very small and they simply don’t have enough blood in their bodies to actually get through the plumbing circuit that is a heart-lung machine.  Donor blood is required to ‘prime’ the machine.

“Bypass was established with distal aortic cannulation with venous drainage through separate caval cannulae …”

James’s surgery was very successful.  A complete repair.  He will have to have checkups for the rest of his life but his life is normal.  He plays sport, he does whatever he wants to do.  He has a ‘zipper’ and a few other interesting scars to go with it.  He is well.  This was not an easy time.  But he is well.

What I know now is that 1 in 100 children are born with a congenital heart defect.  Some minor that will never require intervention.  Some truly terrible that they will never survive.  Some live with a degree of disability all their lives.  Sometimes short lives.  We are very lucky.

“I then released the aortic cross clamp and de-aired the heart through the original cardioplegia delivery site.  The heart returned spontaneously to sinus rhythm and the patient was re-warmed as the pulmonary artery was being reconstructed.”

What’s the point of sharing all of this with you?

We’re fine.  James is fine.  They ‘re-plumbed’ him!  He remains warm to this day and will hopefully stay that way until he is at least 100 years old.  He assures me he is going to be 100 one day.  His heart is great.  He suffered no brain damage – something that sadly is common when people, young or old, go onto heart-lung bypass.  To a lesser or greater degree.

I have written this to remind myself that I am lucky.  My son is lucky.  Lucky to have been born in this country, at this time, with a healthcare system that meant that our final bill was $26 for a can of special formula to take home to help fatten James up – he’d lost a bit of weight during his two weeks in hospital.

In other parts of the world, babies like my son die.  Simple as that.  There are no surgeons, no Medicare, no hospitals or helicopters or heart-lung bypass machines.  No blood.  No anything.  They die.  And in other parts of the world where these things might exist but you have to pay for them – if you can’t, your baby dies.

So.

Tell me again how bad things are here?

James 2010

Talking about coffee drinking or chocolate or something on my show this morning, and somehow, can’t remember how, the topic of ‘your favourite coffee mug’ came up.

Let me just say that where I work the coffee cups are a disgrace.  We have no such thing as a nice set of mugs to use for guests … we do, however, have two entire shelves of coffee mug melting pot.  No two are the same.  Some of them are disgraceful.  Some of them I wouldn’t drink out of.

There are perhaps three nice, simple white ones that the entire staff fight over.  First in, best mugged.

Anyway, for some silly reason I said, “Send me a photo of your favourite coffee mug!”

I think most of us probably have a favourite – one that we always go for first.

Since I asked, I’ll go first.  This is from last Christmas.  I love it.  Large, light, thin china … nice edge on it.  And of course I *heart* the reindeer on ice skates.  I know one day it will get broken … and I will be sad.

My Christmas reindeer mug.

Some mugs for your amusement:

@bernietb's favourite mug - with ruler

@bogusjimmy has one of these - "big"

@catebolt - how beautiful is this!

@evcricket - I can't concentrate of the beautiful cups! #cake

@macsnorky offers up Eeyore

Matthew's Hattifatners!

@Maya_Abeille's personal tragedy

@ndrewg's Norwegian love

@nickylavigne's favourite

@nicolegrgas and her elly

@thinkthinkers makes me think my tweeps watch too much daytime TV

@twitmitch - Is that TAbbott?

@ern_malleyscrub mug philosophy

Christmas in July

This blog started its life as a bedside bookstack.

The pile of books on your bedside table that were your favourites.  At the moment.

The many books you might have on the go at any one time – in my case a pile of usually 10 – 15 in various states of ‘read’.

It became an occasional repository of my favourite thing, person, thought, photograph, whatever … of the moment.

Which brings me to winter.

I don’t much fancy hot, humid summers, and I rather dislike cold, wet winters.  Mainly because I like to be outside doing stuff and find it frustrating when I can’t.

Mulled wine in winter is a bit of a cure-all.

Tastes like Christmas, warms your soul and simply HAS to be good for you.

Simply perfect with the current crop of books on the bedside bookstack – particularly ‘Rare & Curious’ by Elizabeth Ellis, Emeritus Curator at the Mitchell Library.

What’s your winter warmer?

Governor Macquarie's Collectors' Chest

Oh, and in case  you’re wondering, it’s as easy as falling off a log.  Which could happen if you drink too much:

2 x bottles red wine

4 x oranges – sliced

2 x lemons – sliced

2 x cups water

1 x cup sugar

4 x cinnamon sticks

1 x star anise

1 x tsp nutmeg

Simmer in a large pot for 10 minutes and that’s it.

Add whatever other spices you fancy, there really aren’t any rules.

Enjoy!

Jeff Martin and band - The Armada

Social media makes the world smaller.  And it makes my life richer.  Because I have conversations (sometimes only in 140 characters!) with people from around the world who are generous, warm people who share the stories of their lives – the happy, the sad, the fabulous, the rare, the raunchy – you name it.  Ordinary people with ordinary stories, just like you and me.  Somehow the twitterverse led me to @abhijitmajumder who is the editor of an Indian tabloid newspaper.  Let me say right here that I’m not at all sure Abhijit’s newspaper and I have very much in common at all, and while I don’t actually know him, I suspect he’s quite different to his newspaper’s target audience.  In the best possible ways.

Within minutes of Julia Gillard becoming Australia’s 27th Prime Minister, Abhijit sent me a note on Twitter asking what I thought a change of PM might mean for Indian/Australian relationships, particularly in light of the highly-publicised ‘race attacks’ on Indian students in Victoria.  To be honest, I have no idea, I suspect essentially the relationship is a very good one and I don’t see much changing at all.  International student education has been one of the biggest contributors to the Australian economy over the last few years.  Third largest, actually.  Behind coal, then iron ore.  Education of students from overseas.  Huge, huh?!  My considered opinion, and that of Indian friends in  Australia, is that it is not what it seems and has been heavily misrepresented by Indian media.  My note of caution, though, is that perception is often reality.  If I was a parent in India, how would I feel about sending my child to Australia?  Food for thought.

I assured Abhijit that the vast majority of Australians aren’t racist and are appalled by the perception that we are and disgusted by the tiny minority who somehow manage to have all of us tarred with the ‘racist’ brush.  I mentioned Vindaloo Against Violence in February this year, the idea of a young woman in Melbourne.  It was a day of ‘solidarity’ where Australians were encouraged simply to spend the evening in their local Indian restaurant.  Naïve, yes, but simple, elegant, meaningful for those who took part, even if it does seem a bit naff.  Abhijit suggested I write about it for his paper.  I’m still thinking about the pros and cons of that, we’ll see, but to be honest I’m still struggling with it.  It seems such a simply thing to do.  I write.  But.

My problem with writing about it is that it would go to an Indian readership that is still hearing about ‘honour killings’ on a daily basis or the Bharat Bandh (a day of general strike action by the community to complain about sharply rising prices, etc) which involved a level of violence and disruption that we don’t see here, and wouldn’t tolerate.  So at the moment I’m battling with telling the VaV story in the light of activities in India that disturb me greatly.  They’re nothing new, but I need to find a way to hose down my gut reaction of ‘Hang on!  You’re still killing women who marry outside their caste?’  I don’t know.  Maybe this will be the story I can’t actually find the words for?  I’m wondering if the angle needs to be … if I was an Indian woman I’d have ‘given cause’ numerous times by now.  I dragged a friend into the conversation on Twitter and Abhijit responded, “Feel ashamed to describe it. Honour killings are murders of young lovers who have married across caste. Barbaric.”

” … murders of young lovers …”

Oh my heart.

I sent Abhijit a song written by Jeff Martin, formerly of The Tea Party.  The song is called ‘Morocco’ and it is about the honour killings of women in the Middle East.  Different location, same tragedy.  Jeff and I talked about it during one of his visits to my studio and I asked him how he came to write about something as dark and horrific as an honour killing.  “It’s a song inspired by an article I saw in the Sunday Times in England about young women from the Muslim world – honour killings – it’s just a travesty that these things still happen in this day and age when we’re supposed to be civilised. “

I suggest that this is dark material to visit for a song, “It’s necessary.  Things like these travesties that occur, and the fact that we’re supposed to be an evolved species on this planet.  That people can take these beautiful books of love that were created centuries ago and manipulate them and twist them into these things that are basically dripping with hatred and oppression.  I can’t stand parameters being put around the soul of a human ‘becoming’, so at any point where that faces me, it will probably come through in my music.”

Jeff Martin is a father, his little boy Django is just a couple of years younger than mine, how will he explain issues like this, different beliefs,  to his son in the years to come?  “Extremism is everywhere.  You find it in the Christian religion, the Muslim religion, you find it everywhere.  The only thing we can do with those that come after us is teach tolerance.”  Is this one of the gifts of his music, an entree into other cultures, other people, other loves?  “Absolutely.  That’s one of the reasons I travel so much.  I spent a couple of months in Egypt travelling back and forth between Aswan and Luxor.  I met a particular family in Luxor – they had nothing as far as western pleasures are concerned, but they wanted to share everything with me.  I stayed in their home, it was such a beautiful experience with beautiful people.”

We have so much to offer each other, and to learn from each other.  When are we going to be brave enough to embrace it?

Here’s Jeff’s song, Morocco, recorded live in my studio last year.  Enjoy.

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

The Hon Michael Kirby visits my studio

Why do I like the Hon Michael Kirby AC CMG so much?  I’ve thought hard about this, and there are a whole host of reasons … his outspoken nature, his dissent, his passion for human rights, gay rights, support of arts, his warmth and humour … the funny thing is that perhaps so much of what I like about Michael Kirby is intangible.  I suspect he’s naughty, I always think that when I see him smile.

I was surprised in 2009 when he announced his retirement.  Judges have to retire at 70 and I don’t know what surprised me most – that Michael Kirby was nearing 70, or that he was actually leaving the court.  How could he?  In my mind, we needed him in our high court more than ever – a voice of reason accused of dissent and judicial activism.

It makes me sad that this amazing man didn’t feel that he could openly acknowledge his sexuality, and therefore his partner, for some 30 years.  But then again, why should he have to?  I look forward to the day when our sexuality, our gender, our skin or hair colour, are truly insignificant to the people we are and the deeds we commit.  It has been suggested that women have always liked Michael Kirby because they, too, have experienced discrimination.  Maybe.  I like him because I always felt that he was on my side.  That he would stand up for me, for my kids, for all of us and defend our human rights.  We take so much for granted.  I suspect we’re mostly unaware of the freedoms and liberties we have and how easily they could be taken away from us.  I think of Sarajevo, one of the world’s great old cities, in 1984 celebrated as the home of the Winter Olympics but just a few years later the centre of a war and the longest siege in military history.  Tens of thousands of people were killed.  Civilisation torn apart.  Not that Sarajevo was new to conflict … sadly just about everybody has had a crack at it at some point in history.  My point remains.

Michael Kirby

Anyway.  I was thrilled to bits to have the chance to speak with Michael Kirby.  Just a few weeks shy of 20 years on air I think perhaps this will be one of my personal highlights.  I wish I’d had a few hours to interrogate him, rather than just 20 or so minutes.   So what did we talk about?  Lots of stuff.

Like leadership.  What makes a good leader?  ”I’m a little bit suspicious of the leader principle, after all Hitler built his whole future on the fact that he was the fuhrer.  We’ve got to be a bit sceptical of our leaders and in Australia we tend to be, but some people do stand out because of their intellect, their hard work, their energy, their imagination, their sense of empathy with other human beings, their concern for the disadvantaged, the underprivileged.”  How do we find the best leaders?  ”I think we discover people on our journey, but fortunately some people will put themselves forward for public life.  I never discourage that, I think it’s important we get people who’ll take the burdens of public life … and there are burdens, all those boring BBQs you have to go to, and tedious committee meetings … but let’s be frank, some of their treatment from the media, some of the difficult intrusions into their privacy … all of that makes it quite a hard thing to be in public life in Australia but fortunately there’s never a problem getting people to come forward and most of them make their contribution then move on and do other things.”

Like secularism.  Michael Kirby spoke at TEDx in Sydney a few weeks ago and included many issues, including secularism, “The god-botherers are at the door again and we must stand up for the secular state, the separation of church and state.  My proposition is that this is a dangerous time.”  Why is this a dangerous time?  ”We have to be careful that we don’t introduce too much religion, it’s a private matter, a personal matter.  One of the best things we inherited from the British institutions was to keep religion out of politics.  In a sense they came to that in England after Cromwell because they’d had the Protestants fighting the Catholics and in the end they came to the conclusion that the state should be secular, it should be there for everyone, that religion was personal and it didn’t intrude into politics.  When I was young it was very rare for politicians to talk about their religion, it was personal business.  Nowadays they’re all being interviewed outside churches and proclaiming their religion and I have to say I’m very cautious about this.  It’s an un-Australian activity and whilst I wouldn’t have set up the Un-Australian Activity Committee to investigate it, I think they should just mind their own business and keep it out of their public discourse.  I myself have a faith but I don’t go parading it.”

Like human rights.  More from TEDx on gay marriage, “Last week in this state (NSW) legislation was introduced for the registration of civil relationships and I looked through the reports of the politicians of this state who solemnly said ‘this must not be allowed, this endangers and damages the institution of marriage’ and people who might, with a change of government, be in office and with responsibility for law came forward and said ‘this is something we just cannot have’.  A relationships register! We’re not talking about marriage with confetti, we’re talking about a register – like registering your DOG!  That’s what it is.  It’s a second-class status of citizenship!  Not marriage. Not even civil partnership and civil union, that’s been banned by the federal government.”   Whether it’s gay rights, asylum seekers, refugees … are Australians more fearful than we used to be?  And if so, what are we afraid of?  ”I think it’s a question of the polls in key marginals (seats), I think that’s how we’re run now, I think that’s the sad reality.  I mean if Dr Evatt had taken the view in the Communist party dissolution legislation in the 1950s that he was going to watch every opinion poll he would never have fought that legislation in the referendum and won it, and we’d have probably banned the communist party and what else might we have banned.  In those days the political leaders took courageous steps of principle on both sides of politics, but these days it’s all a matter of looking at the ‘marginals’ and how in the ‘marginals’ they’re anxious about asylum seekers or boat people or so on.  It is true that in Australia we have a trickle compared to Europe where they just come in their cars in huge numbers, but we have just this trickle but people seem to get very anxious about even though in all truth Australia has been populated by people who came in boats.  Most of them seeking if not asylum, then at least to improve their lives and the lives of their children.  Maybe we need to get back to finding out what the people of Australia really think about these things and I would be surprised if they weren’t more generous and more understanding and more kind than some of our political leaders on both sides.”

Freedom and common sense.  Australians see ourselves as a people of common sense and pragmatism.  Do we take it for granted?  How easy is it for us to forget the lessons of history, could conflict happen here, could we become an unlucky country?  ”Of course it could happen here, it happened in Germany, one of the most civilised countries in the world and yet in the space of a decade or so they were turned round to a really nasty type of society that hated all types of minorities and that was whipped up into a fury about the Jewish minority, only 2 or 3%, so if it could happen in Germany it could certainly happen here.  I don’t think it’s likely, I think what is more likely to happen is the marginal seats will be polled, national newspapers will scream that we’ve got to be very careful about the asylum seekers and that will push the politicians, who are always nervous, into very unkind policies which I think are not truly a reflection of the overall opinion of the Australian people.”

Support of mandatory retirement age of 70 for judges.  ”The judiciary is a branch of government and you’ve got to move people on, they can’t be there for too long.  They have to play their part, have their moment in the sun, do their job and then get on and do other things, there are plenty of other things to do!  Whilst no doubt I could have gone until I was 90 or 95 – my father is still driving at 94 – I could well have gone on for a long while but you’ve got to have a principle and the principle is that people in public office should not be there for too long because you need generational change, you’ve got to get people who have new ideas, that’s how government develops and approach problems in new ways otherwise you get the old fogeys who are likely to do the same old thing.  Most people get more conservative as they get older, I’m getting more radical!”

Monarchy.  ”It’s not something I lie there at night tossing and turning and worrying too much about because to be completely candid I don’t think anything is going to happen during the reign of the Queen. After that, things may be a bit different.  I was a boy of 12 when the Queen came to the throne, she’s always done her duty, she’s been a symbol of duty, and I believe in doing your duty, trying to serve, trying to do the right thing and she’s a long way away, she comes when she’s invited, she doesn’t come too often, we don’t have the ‘first lady and the first gentleman’ and the stretch limo, we just have this unusual system we inherited and it seems to work pretty well.”

What does he worry about.  ”I worry about unkindness.  About unkindness to minorities and the lack of legal armoury, legal equipment that can help the parliament and the courts come to to the right decision in issues of minority rights.  We’re pretty good with our democracy and looking after the majority, but sometimes we tend to be less kind to aboriginals, to refugees, to people of colour, to minority religions, to sexual minorities, to women, and getting the machinery to ensure the courts and parliament can protect the minorities is something I don’t think we’ve got quite right yet.”

People naming their kids ‘Kirby’.  You need to listen to my interview to get that bit.

My impressions?  Wow.  Smart, funny, warm … wonderful.  I am quite smitten.  I hope my kids grow up to think and to care and to love just a little bit like Michael Kirby does.

National Library - Canberra

A wise man I know often reminds me, “Experiences matter, not things.”  This is why we sold our far-too-small former home 50 metres from the edge of the lake to move up the hill onto a bush acreage where we have planted apples, oranges, plums, mandarins, nuts, vegetables, berries … we have dogs and a tree swing and a trampoline and pool.  We could have made the far-too-small home big enough by putting another floor on, but there still would have been hardly any yard for the boys to be boys in, and I wasn’t at all sure that later in life they’d thank us for the lake view more than for the awesome huge bush backyard full of wonderful boyness that is this current home.  My wise friend, though, has never seen the true devastation that is often wrought in our home by The Ninja aged seven, and his brother The Bird, aged 8.  At least it’s easier to blame them than admit my domestic godlessness.  They are very smart and funny little boys who provide me with no end of entertainment, love, cuddles, kisses, fights and farts.  Not necessarily in that order. The house is a mess, constantly, because we believe in Doing Things and Going Places.

The Spitter Spout

Tidbinbilla tracking station

Ruined observatory - Mt Stromlo

Placing a poppy in the Roll of Honour

Simpson and his donkey

Pasha Bulker - Nobby's Beach 2007

Here’s another reason I love my job.  It is the third anniversary of the June 2007 long weekend storm, a tempest that left us with an 80,000 tonne coal carrier on one of Newcastle’s main beaches.  The coast around the city beaches is littered with shipwrecks, the Sygna – half of which remains on Stockton beach after a similar storm in 1974.  The Adolphe, wrecked on the Oyster Bank in 1904.  The Cawarra in 1866, also wrecked on the Oyster Bank.  62 people died, only one survived.  The Susan Gilmour in 1884 – the beach is now named after the ship.  There’s a great list online here.

At the ABC we went into three days on continuous emergency broadcasting, providing updates on road closures, accidents, emergency information from the SES and utilities … it was quite an amazing time and I’m glad I was a part of it.  The sense of community, the participation of our community, was incredible.  From distressed people calling us for help or advice, to others calling in to offer help or information.

On the Friday afternoon, I received this call from Jim in Maryland – and it chilled my heart.  A child on his way home from school, had been washed away:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

I’d already received a call from the NSW Department of Education to tell us that ALL schools in ALL local government areas in our region were being closed and evacuated.  ALL children were being sent home, or were to be collected.  I will be forever grateful to the anonymous person who rang the radio station with a message telling me that my own children were safe.  I don’t know who you are, but thank you.

That young boy was Alex, and in a weekend in which there were nine tragic deaths, Alex was lucky.  His story had a happy ending and I got to speak with both Alex’s mother, Kirra, and one of his rescuers, Mark:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

Funnily enough, it was a privilege to be able to do my job over those three days.  Like many others, we had no electricity at our home for a few days, but our gas supply wasn’t cut so we were warm, we could cook and heat water.  My sons still get a little antsy whenever we have storms – not surprising given they listened to their mother talk about doom and gloom and pretty scary stuff on the radio for three days straight – but they’re resilient little beings and I think are proud of their mum – particularly when she was thanked at school assembly for the work she did in helping keep people safe!

There is also a Walkley Award that goes with this story – but it seems to me that there are plenty of other journalists who deserve a Walkley ahead of me.  I think I have a photo of it somewhere …

The media posse at Nobby's Beach 2007

My love, my sanctuary.

I am so lucky to be loved by you.

You know me.

You know my strengths, my weaknesses.

You think I look after you.

Yet you allow me to bounce off the walls.

Lose the plot.

Get lost.

You are the best man I have ever known.

Matt Hall - Fighter Pilot

Following your passions.  I suspect we spend a lot of time paying lip-service to that adage.  When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?  Most of us probably changed our minds at least a dozen times … a vet, a nurse, a singer, a painter, a writer.  As we get older, the reality of life tends to dawn hard – there are bills to be paid, a car to be bought, maybe some travel, aspirations and dreams to be funded.  Somehow.  And then there are the expectations of others.  Parents.  Teachers.  Society.  All of them wanting the ‘best’ for us, but often seeing the ‘best’ as meaning financial gain and financial security above all.  So what happens to the things in your life that you simply love – to paint, to draw, to write or compose, to create, to dream, to run as fast as you can.  Maybe faster than anyone else!  One of the most common questions I ask my radio guests is, “How did you find the courage, the stamina, to follow your dreams?  To chase your passion and to aspire to not live a beige life?”  Mind you, if painting is your thing, you might be quite fond of beige.

It’s June 2010.  I guess I’d now consider myself a proud Novocastrian, although ‘officially’ I have another three years of residency to qualify.  Matt Hall is a real Hunter Valley-born Novocastrian who most Australians perhaps came to know through the 2007 television series “Real Top Guns” – a documentary about Australia’s fighter pilots.  I’ve interviewed Matt a number of times over the last couple of years as he has begun chasing a different dream.  Matt Hall is a third generation pilot.  His grandfather was a pilot who flew during WWII.  Matt himself took his first flight at the tender age of two with his father.  It was obvious to Matt that flying was his passion, his dream, his muse.  A career with the RAAF beckoned, during which time Matt became a Fighter Pilot and Elite Fighter Pilot (Top Gun) Instructor, he served with both the RAAF and with the USAF on exchange and was decorated for service in combat by both Australia and the USA.

But for many years, Matt also enjoyed flying as a sport pursuing both competition and display aerobatics, ultimately leading him to being offered to take part in a workshop for Red Bull International Air Race pilots.  In 2008, Matt Hall became the first Australian to be awarded the Red Bull Air Race Super Licence, and finally to be selected to compete.

Flying.  Racing.  Aerobatics.  All sounds rather expensive, doesn’t it.  So here’s the question, just how did he turn his RAAF Fighter Pilot career into that of a professional athlete?  How do you make the decision to throw in an obviously very successful and secure  job with the defence force, and start fending for yourself while pursuing a new dream?   “That is actually quite a challenge believe it or not, there’s a lot to be said about doing what you love and chasing your passion, making a career of your passion, but that also has the ability to sap the enjoyment out of your passion because your livelihood relies upon it.  It is quite a delicate balance because you have to make sure that something that was a hobby and that you wanted to spend all of your time doing, all of a sudden when  it really does take all your time to do it – that it doesn’t lose all of the value of where it started in your life.  The only way to do that is slap yourself in the face, take a step back, and take the wholistic view that ‘you know what?  I’m one of the most privileged people in the world in that I can take my hobby and profession and travel the world combining both of those things’.  Otherwise I can find myself looking through a microscope at all the little individual bits and pieces and that can seem overwhelming and make you feel like throwing your arms in the air and saying ‘it’s not worth it’ because of all the stress and effort you go through.

Matt Hall - Windsor, Ontario, 2010

How hard is it to keep the love of what he does and not throw it in?  “It does take effort.  My wife and I talk about it quite a bit, I also have a sports psychologist and that’s one of the aspects we always work with.  I’m effectively a professional athlete now, and I think nearly every professional athlete in the world goes through this cycle where if you’re not enjoying it, you’re not loving it, your performance drops off.  The best athletes in the world love their sport and have a great time when they’re competing.   When you get in a rut in any sport, you aren’t actually enjoying your sport anymore.   They’re trying too hard, worrying about the dollars, where their future is going rather than instead of, ‘You know what? This is fantastic!’  We’re earning enough money to live and having a great life so let’s just enjoy it as it happens.”

Is that the key?  Enough to live?  “That is the key.  If you treated it like a get-rich-quick retire-in-two-years scheme, you wouldn’t enjoy it because there’s so much turnover of money in this sport, any money that comes in via sponsorship or race fees goes straight back out and if one of your goals was about becoming rich quick, you’d become depressed pretty quickly and wouldn’t do it.  So it really has to be about life, how you’re experiencing life and the moment, enjoy the journey and not the destination.  I think that’s the key to most of life – it’s great to set goals, it’s a necessary thing, but you don’t want to spend your life wishing you were already AT the goal – you want to actually enjoy the journey.”

This is a theory expanded upon in Arun Abey’s book, “How Much Is Enough: Money, Time, Happiness: A Practical Guide to Making the Right Choices”.  How much is enough is perhaps the question we never really ask ourselves as we’re rushing from one pay packet to the other, trying to juggle and make ends meet.  What truly IS enough?  Perhaps, again, this stems back to our childhood dreams and aspirations, the things we REALLY wanted to be or do when we grew up.  Arun Abey was the co-founder of ipac securities, a very successful financial planning business.  I suspect the success of ipac stems from the founder’s personal principles around happiness and wellbeing – that a new car might make you happy for a week, but wonderful experiences shared with loved ones will last a lifetime.  A quote of Abey’s that I’m very fond of is about his own parents, “My parents gave me unconditional love and never expressed any ambition for me in terms of profession, as long as I didn’t do anything bad.  That allowed me to explore because I knew I would have the support of the significant people in my life.  Parents are the biggest obstacles to people living authentic lives, especially in Asia, where children are expected to become doctors, engineers, lawyers, or, at the very least, accountants.  So people are living their parents’ dream, but so many parents aren’t aware of it.”  ipac was ultimately sold to AXA Asia Pacific, but Abey remains as ipac’s Executive Chairman – because he loves it.  Passion.  Dream.  Authenticity.  Success.

Matt Hall - Red Bull Air Race - Abu Dhabi

So if we start with our children, how do we combat this current ‘cult of celebrity’?  Matt Hall is living his personal dream of flying, but how does he share that amazing journey of his,the pursuit of passion, with children and young people?  Does he see himself as a role model?  “Yes, I do, I often speak to kids at school and at the races.  One of my personal goals was to find a valid reason to do it (race) because when I was in Defence I had a very clear direction and reason for what I was doing, to then become an athlete I had to look at myself and ask, ‘How am I improving the world?’, because that’s important to me, and I realised that I can now do that by motivating people to chase their dreams.  So I do a lot of speaking in my spare time, especially to young people, about the fact that I’m no-one special, I didn’t come from a wealthy background nor have I been chasing wealth, I’ve just been having a go at chasing my own dreams and not being scared of failure.  As long as I had some sort of backup plan in place that didn’t leave me in the lurch, but set a reasonable structure of a plan in front of me – have a goal – aim for the stars and you might make the moon!  That’s what I’ve done most of my life.  You make your own luck.  That’s what I try to get through to the kids, do it for life, not for material gain.”

What about taking risks?  I’m a pussy.  I’m a lily-livered, card-carrying coward.  Well, at least when it comes to physical safety.  What is Matt Hall’s limit, where does he draw the line in pursuit of his own passion and the possible impact of injury to himself, or of tragedy for those who love him?  As a parent, do you have the right to take big risks?  And how do you actually determine how big the risk is?  ”When I first started racing, I said to my wife that I never wanted to scare her.  That’s the baseline.  The good thing about racing is that I’m in control of most of the risk I’m exposed to.  Every aspect of life has risk that you can’t control, you could get hit by a runaway bus, but with the aircraft – it is under my control, I control 99% of that.  I will never push hard enough to scare my wife.  She’s my test.  Every time I go flying, I ask her how she was with it.  People think I’m an adrenaline junkie, but I’m actually quite a thoughtful and calculated person, I like being in control and I do feel in control in the race.  Base-jumping is not for me!”

But what about the ‘warrior psychology’ – how do you make the move from defence and aggression in the air – and Matt has seen active combat in his time as an RAAF and USAF Fighter Pilot – to the ‘achievement’ psychology required for success as a professional athlete?  ”There IS a warrior mindset, and I think I do possess that, but you need to be aware of what drives that warrior mindset.  When I was in the defence force, I felt that I was a protector – that’s quite a powerful motivator for that job.  So, yes, I had to figure out how my brain was structured so I could use that passion and aggression for success, and rather than taking a hostile or defensive or offensive posture to feed that mentality, it became more about internal satisfaction and seeing the enjoyment of others.”

And what I personally learned from Matt Hall?  I would fly with him.  It is a great pleasure to know you, Matt!  So – are YOU living authentically?  Living your dream?  Pursuing your passion?

Matt Hall - Red Bull Air Race - Budapest, Hungary, 2009

You can listen to my ABC Local Radio interview with Matt Hall here:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

Love

So I asked the Twitterverse, “What nourishes you?”  And again the spirit of generosity that pulses through this not-real place in the ether flooded back to me.  As I write this, at night, there is heavy rain on my roof.  The sound of rain on the roof has always soothed me, pleased me, placated me.  Sometimes I wish the sound would never stop.  Changes of weather thrill me, remind me that there but for the grace of mother nature go I.  A visitor.

My children, my partner … their love and care, their achievements, their strengths and vulnerabilities, the things that allow me to love in return.  Nourish.  Music.  Words.  People.  Trust.  Safe abandon.  Nourish.  Generosity of spirit, of love, of passion.  The sea.

Tiny hands held warm and tight in my hand – oh this makes my heart sing.

Faith and trust.  Precious people, they are few, but they are my lifeline to nourishment.  Sharing.

And this is what you said to me:

@ruddygood – Passion, not lust – although that can be nice – but passion for ideas and dreams

@Annieb25 – Love and friendships, a good chai tea, reading

@neerav – Hugs

@mischa76 & @superopinion – Books, music, peace

@mischa76 – Touch, walking barefoot in soft grass, the smell of rain, soft warm bed, being curled up on the couch with someone you love.

@cate_carroll – Shared laughter with my family and friends, cuddles with my boys & stolen romantic moments with my hubby are food for my soul.  Mr nearly3 is in my arms, watching Toy Story and drinking his cup of milk before bed

@Maya_Abeille – My children’s belly laughs and tight cuddles, kind words, unexpected generosity of spirit, reading, forging connections.,

@rod_benson – earth

@athena_here – Words, music, friends, family, love, art

@ellymc – Snuggles

@superopinion – I think what nourishes me is the world in general, humanity, nature, the best and the worst, and the contrast between them

@ofdphoto – Smiles from my son, love from my wife, faithfulness from my God, plus a healthy dose of beauty in the world

@SusanneWest – My boys, cooking nourishes literally and figuratively, writing my own words and reading those of others. xx

@Annieb25 – Writing, hugs from my kids, yoga

@jangreen31 – Unconditional love of my child (22), watching her grow, embrace her own life and love, knowing I’ll always be part of her life.  My work gives me an amazing buzz when I see others achieving and happy.  Encouraging others to embrace change and watching them fly

@daGusface – Knowing that I have in some way contributed to a fairer society

@micharms – Spending quality time with hubby and son, going for a walk with the dog, reading my Bible and sometimes a good kick up the pants!

@Annieb25 to @Maya_Abeille – I love the things that nourish you.  You are a special person.  Wish I knew you in real life

@ndrewg – A good pun, or a moment of delicious irony can keep me going for a while.

@surfache – My kids, the backyard, surfing perfect afternoon glass, art that doesn’t have its head stuck up its own arse, silly people

@JSP2283 – Wife, daughter and son-in-law, family, friends, achieving, empowering others to achieve, lifelong learning, fun

@pipcleaves – Achieving a goal nourishes me to try again.  Spending time alone with my kids nourishes me to keep finding goals

@SuperOpinion – people nourish me, often the ones you’ve never met because it’s so easy to *really* see them – without the veil of *knowing* them

@lisanreynolds – Co-sleeping with my kids, rekindling memories from old photo albums, the freedom of travel, my husband’s love-infused cooking.

At which point @bobbaldwinmp asked, “Carol, don’t you ever take time to smell the roses?”

@folkinbroke original live music written and performed by passionate artists

@anjwrites – Transcendent friendships, new connections with amazing people, writing (always writing) and time outside

@davecathcart – carrying a sleeping child, head on my shoulder, from car to cot after a big outing

@Bern_Morley – Pumpkin soup, kisses from my kids and a good night’s sleep

@JohannaBD – Living each day doing what I love

@mrgrumpystephen – red wine, sleep-ins, and the souls of my enemies after I have destroyed them.  (I understand, Grumpy, I do! xx)

@Annieb25 -Love nourishes me – from family, friends & my doggy! Reading & writing, chai tea and chocolate

@ruddygood -See, that’s why I love her…add my cat, and that’s me..oh, and green tea…oh, and woodfires..and inspiring people. (Can you see these two starting to hog the show?)

And still the rain pours and drums upon my roof, nourishing me.  I don’t want this moment to end.  This is my sanctuary.  I always take time to smell the roses, but I never cut them.  Because after I walk past, I want the roses to still bloom and flourish.

People nourish me.  Their kindness, their love, their warmth, their secrets and concerns, their heartbreaks and triumphs.  Their connections.

What nourishes you?

Mind Blowing Blog Award from @annieb25

Sometimes, the not-real can be so much more real than what you think is real.  Have I lost you yet?

The internet.  Teh interwebz.

Populated by conmen, shonks, shysters, bullshit artists, porn addicts, gamblers and losers.  Right?

Maybe.

But not on my patch.

The Mind Blowing Blog Award was bestowed upon me by an amazing woman I ‘met’ on Twitter – @annieb25 – http://livinglifeasme.wordpress.com/ Annie, thank you, this is better than winning a Walkley!  Oh … actually … no, it’s not.  But still!

The internet that I have come to know, and love, is full of smart, funny, warm, generous, loving people who are simply looking for a way to make meaningful connections.  To share, to learn, to laugh, to cry.  To whatever.

The rules of the award are:

* To display the award on your blog.

* Mention the person who gave you the award and link to their blog.

* Name 5 – 10 people whose blogs you love.

* Advise those people they have an award!

Here are some that I, in turn, hand on the Mind Blowing Blog Award to:

Jayne – http://indydreaming.wordpress.com/ – for reminding me the sun always comes out.  Eventually.  Even if you have to chase it and beat the hell out of it with a stick.

theNDM – http://notdrowning.wordpress.com/ – who will probably just find this a pain in the arse chainletter type thing.

Tiff – http://www.mythreeringcircus.com/ – for being an awesome mother who reminds me not to sweat the small stuff.

Gerry – http://eucalyptushoney.blogspot.com/ – for being able to work a forge.  And for reminding me to be open.

Sandra – http://120dollarsfoodchallenge.wordpress.com/ – who probably doesn’t realise just how significant her blog could be.

And a whole host of others who enrich my life with their words and generosity.

My studio home

Sometimes I don’t.  Mostly I do.

It’s a funny thing – making people talk, tell me stories, things that perhaps they’re happy to tell me, sometimes they’re not.

I love feeling like I’ve made a difference.  Or at least tried to.

I hate the criticism that can sometimes come with such a public job.  I have wondered many times if I possess skin thick enough for this job.  But I also wonder if the thick-skinned ones really care … if they really *feel* what’s going on in a conversation with a guest.

A woman once wrote to me to tell me that a series I had done on breast cancer, for which I recorded my own mammogram, encouraged her to bite the bullet and get a mammogram herself.

She was found to have an early breast cancer.

She thanked me for that.

A tiny, immune-deficient girl now gets a little more attention from her paediatrician – because he heard her distressed mother on my program.

I’ve interviewed the rich and famous, the poor and voiceless.  Or at least they were voiceless.  Academics, researchers, teachers, politicians, unionists, children, mothers, fathers, rock stars, surgeons, authors, liars, abusers, rescuers, the terminally ill  … even a motor mechanic who is one of the world’s finest Celtic fiddlers!

Occasionally, not often, but occasionally … there are those that will use me, and my position, for their own gain.  Hopefully I will become wiser at spotting them!

It’s a privilege.

One that sometimes I intentionally abuse.  But I hope only in a good way.

Using my evil powers for good.

It’s all I can do.  I don’t know anything else.