"Bastards everywhere!"

My wife and I are on a brief holiday, driving north from Dunedin, NZ, eventually going to Wellington, doing the trip to catch up on two of our children and their families. We are in Christchurch . My back is playing up so I forced myself to go for a walk to see if I could free it up some more. I was walking down the footpath and suddenly realised that there was an elderly man riding a mobility scooter wanting to pass me. He began asking questions as I fell in line with his scooter. I told him I had a sore back and was going for a walk to try to improve things. “How did you hurt your back?” he asked. “Well early last year I was fencing (as in fixing a fence) and in the process overstrained it.” “Fencing!” he said, “Yeah that would do it!” Then he launched into telling me some of his life story. “I’ve been a bloody shearer most of my life. By God, you can do your back in in that game!” I recognised him as one who lived in a caravan at the camp ground we were staying in. As he got faster and faster on his scooter he talked and talked about working on farms in NZ and Australia. I was getting hot just trying to keep up.

Among other things, he talked of industrial clashes between farmers and shearers in both countries, and the evil leadership that there was in the NZ Federated farmers. He said, “There were some bloody nasty bastards in the leadership of the Federated Farmers. How do the nasty ones get to the top? They were bastards!” he repeated. Then he chuckled, “Mind you there were some real nasty bastards leading the shearers in those days too! How does that happen? Where ever you are there are nasty bastards causing problems!” “I guess,” I blurted out, “Those are the people who like to hang on to power!” … I nearly said, “It even happens in Church circles.” But he had talked about “those religious bastards” earlier and I had not admitted that I was a Church Minister. “Yeah you’re right." he said, "Bastards love power whoever they are!”

….. Looking at the world today and the weird things happening, this elderly sheep shearer perhaps sums up the problem… “There are bastards everywhere!” Thankfully that is not the full picture, but just now you begin to wonder?

Contemporaries dying!

This is a group from the Church Youth Group on Stewart Island (Southern most Island of NZ) We had gone on an excursion by train and ferry from Dunedin.  We were there the weekend that President Kennedy got shot in November 1963. I recall an elderly lady coming out of her wee Stewart Island cottage and telling us the news. I am on the right in the front and Graham is sitting next to me.  

Graeme died...
Last week I had a text from my sister that an old school mate of mine had been found dead at his back door in a town about an hour and a half's drive away. My sister was a school mate of his sister, so we knew the family quite well when we were young. 
I was in Standard three, about 8/9 years old when I first met Graeme. His father ran a grocery store almost next to the school. You could describe Graeme as a bit of a nerd, and I was always about half way between the nerds and the popular kids at school. I loved sport but did not have the coordination nor confidence to be good at it. Graeme and I got on together. Graeme had two sisters, one older and one younger. He once had a still older sister, but sadly she had died not long before I got to know the family. They were richer than we were, but I think they were still quite sad because of their loss. Graeme's mum and dad seemed to be fairly serious. The Grocery shop had an old stables out the back and all sorts of things were stored there. Graeme and I would explore that building often after school. I think his parents liked that he had a male friend, so seemed to encourage me to spend time there. I sometimes got into trouble at home because I stayed there too long. I recall my mum scolding me once, saying, "I guess you would rather live at their house! Is that what you think?" 
Sometimes on Sunday afternoon's Graeme's family would visit his grandparents down the Otago peninsula, and I was invited for the ride. They had a Vanguard car and I recall sitting in the back seat in awe of this machine. We only had a two cylinder Bradford van! Down there there was a public playground, an old artillery gun and the shore line to explore. Graeme was in my class from Primary School, through intermediate school and for the first two years of High School. Even when he wasn't in my class we would meet up at lunch time with others, and chat, play cricket and generally hang around together. He came to our Church Youth Group and became part of the gang. He was more scholarly than I was, more refined and almost effeminate in his manner. I left high school and went on to serve a plumbing apprenticeship, while he went to university, and I think studied English/journalism. We saw each other spasmodically for a while, then he moved North, we both got married (though I don't think his lasted long) so that by the time I got to university, he was well gone. 

I moved to Australia and our paths never crossed for many years. I occasionally heard about him through my sister who was still in touch with his sister. About six years ago his sister came into my office and asked me if I would conduct her husband's funeral. So once again I was involved with the family. Graeme lived about one and a half hours away, and I saw him at the funeral. We chatted after, and seemed to fall into the same level of conversation as when we were at school. He was single and living alone. He had recently written a book and it was going to be launched. I was interested in that whole process. We swapped email addresses, but unfortunately we never made contact again. I was sad and felt guilty when I heard that he had died. He was a little younger than I, still in his seventieth year.

Another class mate died...
I picked up the paper this morning and read of the death of another guy who was in my class at school. He had gone on to be a really good and well known cricket player, and a teacher with a fine reputation for going the extra mile with his pupils. I recall that he once coached two of my boys for basket ball. He was the same age as I am.  Once again I was shocked to read of a contemporary dying. 

I guess we are lucky to get to the age we have and such news will become quite frequent. It does make you reflect on how you have spent your life. It doesn't seem long ago that we were teenagers, hanging around together! Where did that time go?