After a lenghty hiatus I felt it time I showed love to the blog; given that my last post was in May.
I thought about why I hadn't thought about the blog for over six months, and a recent comment by Annemarie came to mind. She simply said to me, "Where did 2010 go?" I have no answer to this, beacause it whizzed by so quickly I didn't get a good look at it.
* Were we particularly busy? No more so than previous years.
* Was somebody ill? No, in fact we probably suffered from less Winter ills this year, than what we normally do.
* Was there a disaster in the family? No (thank goodness) things just pottered along for the year.
* Did we go on a big trip. No, we had a beaut 9 day cruise through the Coral Sea in June/July, but as is usual with these things, it seemed that as soon as we boarded it was time to disembark.
On this groggy Boxing Day Sunday morning I can't think of anything that would have propelled 2010 past us so quickly. However, I have a few days up my sleeve, before returning to the drag and grind, and will attempt to recall the year to anyone who wishes to read this.
May your god(s) be smiling upon you.
Tony
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Keeping Mum
It seems as though, these days, people feel they can say what they want, when they want, without recourse. Those of my generation and those of the generation after me (with the apt moniker of iGeneration) have no problem in telling anyone who will listen, as well as those that won't, exactly what they are thinking.
My mum, and those of her generation have not felt the need to be an instant authority on anything, even subjects which they have a firm grasp of. Generally they keep their own counsel, they keep mum.
I suppose social networking applications such as Facebook, Twitter (and yes, blogs) allow a freedom of speech never available to us before. However the medium now available to us carries a responsibility as well. Just because I feel a sense of misplaced self importance with a Facebook, Twitter, or blog account, this doesn't give me the right to mouth off without thinking of others. Freedom of speech is not excluded from following social norms.
Catherine Deveny found this out last week when she posted two Twitter comments about Logies attendees and was sacked for the content within. Media personalities like Catherine and well known radio personality, Kyle Sandilands assume a given right to undermine, belittle, and demean people. I suppose they feel justified because they and are popular for their regular candid and outspoken stance on just about anything. I wonder if this authority of popularity then encourages the general populace to do the same, and damn what anybody else thinks.
I remember posting a silly, but innocuous reply to a friend's comment on Facebook. In a later reply another of her friends likened me to female genitalia. Why did this person feel the need to use such a foul word in a public place. They don't even know me. Why did they feel so much anger towards me? The truth is, they didn't. It's my guess they felt safe enough behind the keyboard to say whatever they want and get away with it. Why not? Media personalities seem to.
I believe Catherine, Kyle, and all of us have a responsibility to keep our comments and opinions socially acceptable. I don't expect them to hold their tongues, just think about what they are saying before they say it. I don't care how outspoken you are, it is unacceptable to tweet about 11 year olds 'getting laid' or using the tragic death of a young actress for a cheap laugh. You should also think twice before you use any four letter word in public (if for no other reason than it may embarrass your friend).
Of course social networking is just one of the places enjoy we can enjoy our democratic right to thrust our opinions, attitudes, or language on others. Whilst shopping the other day I walked past a member of staff obviously trying to embarrass the young man filling the freezer. She called to a third staff member as I was passing and (almost) yelled across me, “Y'know she reckons he's a f@#%ing hornbag.” In my opinion she could get way with using 'hornbag' although I'm guessing she wasn't being paid to chatter inanely. But, adding copulation to it was vulgar and decidedly inappropriate. Fortunately I do not get upset by this language, but I know an awful lot of people who do. Christine trots out a wonderful saying every now-and-then, that sums it up nicely: “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” That's the key: if you think your mum, or your grandmother would disapprove, why would you use it in public? And yes, Facebook, Twitter, even e-mail is public. Once you have put it out there, you may never get it back (with my Facebook incident the comment had been removed, presumably by my friend, but I already had an e-mail alert with the comment in there).
Those who know me also know that I am, to my discredit, inclined to use the 'F' word, especially when in a bad mood. In fact, when I go 'thermo-nuclear' my vocabulary reduces to 15 words, of which at least 7 start with 'f'. However, there is a time and place for everything and I try very hard not to offend anyone with my colourful phrase. What gives me the right to do so? What gives anybody the right to offend people without redress?
Maybe we should take a leaf from the etiquette book of my mother's generation and just keep mum. That way we can still kiss her with that mouth.
My mum, and those of her generation have not felt the need to be an instant authority on anything, even subjects which they have a firm grasp of. Generally they keep their own counsel, they keep mum.
I suppose social networking applications such as Facebook, Twitter (and yes, blogs) allow a freedom of speech never available to us before. However the medium now available to us carries a responsibility as well. Just because I feel a sense of misplaced self importance with a Facebook, Twitter, or blog account, this doesn't give me the right to mouth off without thinking of others. Freedom of speech is not excluded from following social norms.
Catherine Deveny found this out last week when she posted two Twitter comments about Logies attendees and was sacked for the content within. Media personalities like Catherine and well known radio personality, Kyle Sandilands assume a given right to undermine, belittle, and demean people. I suppose they feel justified because they and are popular for their regular candid and outspoken stance on just about anything. I wonder if this authority of popularity then encourages the general populace to do the same, and damn what anybody else thinks.
I remember posting a silly, but innocuous reply to a friend's comment on Facebook. In a later reply another of her friends likened me to female genitalia. Why did this person feel the need to use such a foul word in a public place. They don't even know me. Why did they feel so much anger towards me? The truth is, they didn't. It's my guess they felt safe enough behind the keyboard to say whatever they want and get away with it. Why not? Media personalities seem to.
I believe Catherine, Kyle, and all of us have a responsibility to keep our comments and opinions socially acceptable. I don't expect them to hold their tongues, just think about what they are saying before they say it. I don't care how outspoken you are, it is unacceptable to tweet about 11 year olds 'getting laid' or using the tragic death of a young actress for a cheap laugh. You should also think twice before you use any four letter word in public (if for no other reason than it may embarrass your friend).
Of course social networking is just one of the places enjoy we can enjoy our democratic right to thrust our opinions, attitudes, or language on others. Whilst shopping the other day I walked past a member of staff obviously trying to embarrass the young man filling the freezer. She called to a third staff member as I was passing and (almost) yelled across me, “Y'know she reckons he's a f@#%ing hornbag.” In my opinion she could get way with using 'hornbag' although I'm guessing she wasn't being paid to chatter inanely. But, adding copulation to it was vulgar and decidedly inappropriate. Fortunately I do not get upset by this language, but I know an awful lot of people who do. Christine trots out a wonderful saying every now-and-then, that sums it up nicely: “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” That's the key: if you think your mum, or your grandmother would disapprove, why would you use it in public? And yes, Facebook, Twitter, even e-mail is public. Once you have put it out there, you may never get it back (with my Facebook incident the comment had been removed, presumably by my friend, but I already had an e-mail alert with the comment in there).
Those who know me also know that I am, to my discredit, inclined to use the 'F' word, especially when in a bad mood. In fact, when I go 'thermo-nuclear' my vocabulary reduces to 15 words, of which at least 7 start with 'f'. However, there is a time and place for everything and I try very hard not to offend anyone with my colourful phrase. What gives me the right to do so? What gives anybody the right to offend people without redress?
Maybe we should take a leaf from the etiquette book of my mother's generation and just keep mum. That way we can still kiss her with that mouth.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Of Friends and Family
Last week saw the Tullochs back in the car and heading to the old home town of Adelaide. Those from Adelaide get a little antsy when you call the place a town, but it is a welcome relief coming from a city four times the size. So, Adelaide dwellers, please realise that, I call it a town with fondness, not derision.
A 43 degree heat in Melbourne, 45 on the Wimmera and 44 in Adelaide, made for a long, warm trip for the Commodore. Built for practicality in Oz, rather than the fancy trimmings of some other brands, it is no wonder the Commode (as we like to call it) is an Aussie's best friend on the road. We sat in the airconditioning, oblivious almost the entire trip, except for pee and petrol breaks.
Adelaide has that warm (actually very warm, as the heat lasted for another three days) feeling as you drive down through the Heysen Tunnels. Then along Portrush Road, narrowly skirting foothills (by a suburb or two) and enjoying the early 20th Century architecture that the beautiful people of Adelaide roll into huge mortgages. Adelaide feels like an old friend to me. Even though I ignore her most of the year, Adelaide welcomes me anyway, with her familiar streets and quieter lifestyle. Nowhere is this more evident than in the North Eastern foothills, where I grew up. We stay at The Blue Gums Hotel in Fairwiew Park and the staff tend us with easygoing friendliness and an attitude that makes us feel nothing is too much trouble.
Brian, an old school buddy of mine, and I used to work out at the gym next to the pub and would occasionally treat ourselves to a quiet ale afterwards. It feels like home and is only 10 minutes away from both my two old homes, and the unit my Mum lives in now. In fact Brian is about the same distance away, and I know he and his family would welcome us if we called, but where do you find the time?
Believe it or not, a week is a very short space of time, even when you have small families like ours, and many friends are not seen for years. I feel for the Italian and Greek Australians when they return to their Mediterranean homes; their feet must never touch the ground. Our parents are our top priority and sometimes even family misses out. Four of my family will have to wait for another time.
Every year I try to catch up with some old friends somehow, and my oldest friend Craig (chronologically, not age-wise) often makes the effort to keep in touch with many of us from school. He is generally first on the list if we have the time to spare.
If you regularly read my blog you know my brother and I have a 'boys day out' whenever we can. With a tight schedule I squeezed the two into one and we visited my friend Craig at his home/shop for a bit of boys' time. At this point I should let you know that Craig has an Aladdin's cave (if Aladdin was an aircraft nut) of aviation and military books, models, and paraphernalias. Craig was kind enough to open his shop, Aerowerks, for us, even though he is on his Christmas break. There is a kind of selfish magic about being the only ones allowed somewhere, and my brother and I trawled up and down the aisles filled with countless boxes of kits and books (I'm glad I don't have to do the stocktake at Aerowerks).
The Tullochs managed to catch up with another friend of the same era, Michael (and his gorgeous wife and wonderful mum) but that was it, others were left out of the loop. Like Craig, Michael and I became firm friends in our first year of high school. Unlike Craig, Michael and I fell out of contact soon after we left school. This was my fault rather than Michael's and it was only by chance that, about five years ago that I came into contact with Brian, Craig and Michael; all in a month.
Craig, being much more nostalgic, and far better organised than myself, called me about a school reunion. I hate these things with a vengeance, but I was to be in Adelaide for a wedding and could hardly pass up the opportunity of catching up with some of the old crowd. I rang Michael, via his father and managed to catch him packing for London. The reunion was out for him, but we kept in touch elecronically, and now both our families keep in contact (I correspond more with Michael's Mum on Facebook than I do with him).
At school we had a reasonably loose friend core of some nine boys (although Michael moved in the first year). Some of these people I hadn't seen for over 20 years, even though most of them still lived in Adelaide.
The reunion loomed as the wedding passed and I was on my way to my parent's house to change. It was then I realised I was running late and decided to go straight to the reunion, complete with a claret coloured vest and matching dickie bow tie. It had been cold that day and I remembered I had donned a white T-Shirt underneath. Thinking it a bit off to show this through an open-necked shirt I left the tie on. When I got to the reunion I found Craig wearing a pink casual shirt. Let me say, we looked well suited for each other.
In the midst of a 30-40 something crowd I looked hard for a familiar face (actually a friendly one would have sufficed). Even with the addition of nametags I only saw one other person I could recognise. I really mean that. With the exception of this one bloke from our year level, the others may as well have been ancient Hebrews or Mayans. I did not recollect any other face in the building. Obviously Craig and I stuck together pretty well, yelling into each other's ears over the music.
They say that people's clothes say a lot about them. I think ours, combined with our close proximity yelled "GAY, GAY. STAY AWAY!" It was, as I had feared, a slow death of snubbing and boredom. By 9:00PM we had decided to ring Brian and have our own reunion, ten minutes away at his place. I met his boys for the first time and caught up with his lovely wife after many years (about 12 years face-to-face). You will find it hard to believe that, Brian was one of my groomsmen (the other I haven't seen for probably 20 years) and I his best man.
I suppose inevitably, we all go our separate ways and even those that still live within an hour's drive of each other rarely catch up. Out of the original crowd we have (I think) a builder, a trainer, an engineer, a linesman, a technician, a sole trader, a writer, a marine archeologist, and the ninth I have no idea. Our past is getting further away and our families are those most important to us (or at least it is that way for me). We have Facebook I suppose and I keep in loose contact with about 4 of the original friends this way. But the next trip to Adelaide sees us with a family 18th, 21st and 80th, possibly all crammed into one weekend. Friends will need to wait, yet again.
Maybe we'll have a friends' reunion in 2011 and I'll wear my claret coloured vest and dickie bow tie.
A 43 degree heat in Melbourne, 45 on the Wimmera and 44 in Adelaide, made for a long, warm trip for the Commodore. Built for practicality in Oz, rather than the fancy trimmings of some other brands, it is no wonder the Commode (as we like to call it) is an Aussie's best friend on the road. We sat in the airconditioning, oblivious almost the entire trip, except for pee and petrol breaks.
Adelaide has that warm (actually very warm, as the heat lasted for another three days) feeling as you drive down through the Heysen Tunnels. Then along Portrush Road, narrowly skirting foothills (by a suburb or two) and enjoying the early 20th Century architecture that the beautiful people of Adelaide roll into huge mortgages. Adelaide feels like an old friend to me. Even though I ignore her most of the year, Adelaide welcomes me anyway, with her familiar streets and quieter lifestyle. Nowhere is this more evident than in the North Eastern foothills, where I grew up. We stay at The Blue Gums Hotel in Fairwiew Park and the staff tend us with easygoing friendliness and an attitude that makes us feel nothing is too much trouble.
Brian, an old school buddy of mine, and I used to work out at the gym next to the pub and would occasionally treat ourselves to a quiet ale afterwards. It feels like home and is only 10 minutes away from both my two old homes, and the unit my Mum lives in now. In fact Brian is about the same distance away, and I know he and his family would welcome us if we called, but where do you find the time?
Believe it or not, a week is a very short space of time, even when you have small families like ours, and many friends are not seen for years. I feel for the Italian and Greek Australians when they return to their Mediterranean homes; their feet must never touch the ground. Our parents are our top priority and sometimes even family misses out. Four of my family will have to wait for another time.
Every year I try to catch up with some old friends somehow, and my oldest friend Craig (chronologically, not age-wise) often makes the effort to keep in touch with many of us from school. He is generally first on the list if we have the time to spare.
If you regularly read my blog you know my brother and I have a 'boys day out' whenever we can. With a tight schedule I squeezed the two into one and we visited my friend Craig at his home/shop for a bit of boys' time. At this point I should let you know that Craig has an Aladdin's cave (if Aladdin was an aircraft nut) of aviation and military books, models, and paraphernalias. Craig was kind enough to open his shop, Aerowerks, for us, even though he is on his Christmas break. There is a kind of selfish magic about being the only ones allowed somewhere, and my brother and I trawled up and down the aisles filled with countless boxes of kits and books (I'm glad I don't have to do the stocktake at Aerowerks).
The Tullochs managed to catch up with another friend of the same era, Michael (and his gorgeous wife and wonderful mum) but that was it, others were left out of the loop. Like Craig, Michael and I became firm friends in our first year of high school. Unlike Craig, Michael and I fell out of contact soon after we left school. This was my fault rather than Michael's and it was only by chance that, about five years ago that I came into contact with Brian, Craig and Michael; all in a month.
Craig, being much more nostalgic, and far better organised than myself, called me about a school reunion. I hate these things with a vengeance, but I was to be in Adelaide for a wedding and could hardly pass up the opportunity of catching up with some of the old crowd. I rang Michael, via his father and managed to catch him packing for London. The reunion was out for him, but we kept in touch elecronically, and now both our families keep in contact (I correspond more with Michael's Mum on Facebook than I do with him).
At school we had a reasonably loose friend core of some nine boys (although Michael moved in the first year). Some of these people I hadn't seen for over 20 years, even though most of them still lived in Adelaide.
The reunion loomed as the wedding passed and I was on my way to my parent's house to change. It was then I realised I was running late and decided to go straight to the reunion, complete with a claret coloured vest and matching dickie bow tie. It had been cold that day and I remembered I had donned a white T-Shirt underneath. Thinking it a bit off to show this through an open-necked shirt I left the tie on. When I got to the reunion I found Craig wearing a pink casual shirt. Let me say, we looked well suited for each other.
In the midst of a 30-40 something crowd I looked hard for a familiar face (actually a friendly one would have sufficed). Even with the addition of nametags I only saw one other person I could recognise. I really mean that. With the exception of this one bloke from our year level, the others may as well have been ancient Hebrews or Mayans. I did not recollect any other face in the building. Obviously Craig and I stuck together pretty well, yelling into each other's ears over the music.
They say that people's clothes say a lot about them. I think ours, combined with our close proximity yelled "GAY, GAY. STAY AWAY!" It was, as I had feared, a slow death of snubbing and boredom. By 9:00PM we had decided to ring Brian and have our own reunion, ten minutes away at his place. I met his boys for the first time and caught up with his lovely wife after many years (about 12 years face-to-face). You will find it hard to believe that, Brian was one of my groomsmen (the other I haven't seen for probably 20 years) and I his best man.
I suppose inevitably, we all go our separate ways and even those that still live within an hour's drive of each other rarely catch up. Out of the original crowd we have (I think) a builder, a trainer, an engineer, a linesman, a technician, a sole trader, a writer, a marine archeologist, and the ninth I have no idea. Our past is getting further away and our families are those most important to us (or at least it is that way for me). We have Facebook I suppose and I keep in loose contact with about 4 of the original friends this way. But the next trip to Adelaide sees us with a family 18th, 21st and 80th, possibly all crammed into one weekend. Friends will need to wait, yet again.
Maybe we'll have a friends' reunion in 2011 and I'll wear my claret coloured vest and dickie bow tie.
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