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| By John Ray |
Some Memoirs
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Ever since I was introduced to him many years ago by my friend Mel Dickson, I have been a great fan of that great Scottish poet William Topaz McGonagall, who is widely regarded as the world's worst poet. He is so bad, however, that he rises to genius at what he does. His poetry is so bad that it is hilarious. A reading of McGonagall is one of life's greatest amusements, in my view. The laughs never stop coming. So I was delighted that I was able to enlist Mel to come up to Brisbane from his home in Sydney and give us an evening of McGonagall readings last night. Mel is from the Dunedin area of New Zealand originally so can do a reasonable Scottish accent. He also has a fancy for the theatre so does well-dramatized readings. I flew the saltire of St. Andrew from my flagpole in honour of the occasion. The occasion was particularly for the benefit of my son Joe. It was one of the occasional poetry readings that I arrange for him to introduce him to the literature that he should have encountered at school. I doubt that McGonagall has ever been on any school curriculum but he should be. Present were Joe, Jenny, Mel, myself, Anne, Jill and Lewis. We started at around 7pm with dinner. In honour of McGonagall's origins, we tried to make the dinner Scottish. So we had a mainstream Scottish meal: "Mince and tatties" (ground beef and mashed potatoes). It's pretty plain food basically but Anne managed to make it very passable. And it was followed by a dessert that any Scot would approve of: Trifle. Why is trifle Scottish? Because it originated as a way of "using up" old cake. Anne makes a trifle heavy with apricots which is absolutely delicious. The recipe is on my recipe blog. I was delighted to note that Joey "got" McGonagall immediately. I think he had at least as many laughs during the evening as I did. Joe seems to have a keen sense of the ridiculous, which is what you need for McGonagall. I presented him with a McGonagall "encyclopedia" as a memento of the occasion. It was the second time that I have flown someone up from Sydney to entertain Joe with poetry so I think I am well ahead in my fatherly responsibilities. He is at present busy with a literature review of non-linear partial differential equations so it certainly provided a contrast for him. It was also good to see Mel again after many years and we had some good chats. Amusing that it took McGonagall to get us back together. Mel is the retired head of the electron microscope laboratory at the University of NSW. | ||
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Anne took a few pics of my backyard a week or three ago. The cassia is particularly pretty in autumn. And even the old wooden chair looks good in an autumn context!   | ||
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Another meeting of our Westside Music Group last night. Held in a very new and rather grand house out in the wilds of Pullenvale. Pullenvale is where people go for "acreage" (large) blocks of land. I had trouble finding it and went within a hairsbreadth of crashing my car at one stage. I was wise enough to go in the Echo rather than in the Humber, however, so that helped. The Echo is a lot better at U-turns and narrow roadways. Our host was an Anglo-Australian but his wife was Indian (Sri-Lankan Sinhalese more precisely). That's quite an unusual combination. Little East-Asian ladies with burly Anglo-Australian men is quite a common combination but Indians seem quite endogamous. And it was the lady who is the musical one, apparently. They were both very pleasant and hospitable anyway. The gathering was larger than usual but still mostly elderly. There was one lady who must have been somewhere in her 40's but who had kept a very good figure and was very attractively dressed. I wondered a little about that but all was explained the minute I spoke to her: A clear South African accent. South African ladies are VERY particular about their appearance. She was a good pianist anyway. She is a music teacher and did a few duets (four-handed pieces) on the piano with one of her students. It was a very good sound. Unsurprisingly, our violinist looked very Jewish. I don't know if he was but there is a look that is Jewish even if lots of Jews don't look like that! The number of blue-eyed Jews I know (two of whom were present last night) tells me that Jews have long been less endogamous than their religion would seem to require. Perhaps it all goes back to the story of Ruth. And we were honoured to have Brisbane's best-known violinist in the audience: Spiros Rantos. I was rather amazed that he was allowed to get away without playing, however. Even born-fiddlers need to listen sometimes, I guess. And our main pianist was a little Chinese lady, though Australian-born, I think. She was very good. It was great to hear Mozart pouring out from those clever little Asian fingers. It is quite a wonder the way East Asians have taken to Western classical music. Most of the pianists at our concerts seem to be Chinese. Australia is lucky to have had so many high-quality Han immigrants (The Han are the majority race of China but they are also often found in other parts of Asia). | ||
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Another family birthday yesterday. A combined do for four family members who have birthdays at roughly the same time: Jenny, Davey, Tracy and Paul's Sue. We gathered at Paul's place, as we often do, and had a lunch together. It was not a BBQ, for once. It was buffet style but all the food came from the kitchen. Tracy's Simon was there -- on a week's furlough from his deployment in the Gulf. So Simon, Ken and I spent most of the time talking about the war over there -- and military matters generally. Simon did have some interesting stories. He sees a lot from his vantage position as an air-traffic controller. There were a lot of Paul's Sue's relatives there, which was a change. The disagreements there seem to have been resolved. It was the first time that I had met her mother. I had a bit of a chat to Joe about how universities work but I think he is already well ahead of me in his ability to deal with the system there. I also had a chat with the Croesus of the family, Lady Von (Jenny's daughter Yvonne). Von and I were very close when she was a kid and we still enjoy a chat. She has just made a mint on selling her old house and now has two houses -- one in Brisbane and one in N.Z. And she is buying another one in N.Z. as well. She has also just been promoted at work, with an extra $20,000 a year. She is now an adviser of some sort. Not bad considering the poor marks she got at high school. But she has plenty of brains for things she is interested in. And she is good natured and good looking as well! So it's not surprising that she has had a pretty easy run through life so far. | ||
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Not always! But I think that there is nonetheless widespread agreement that sons need their fathers. Some hormonally-challenged feminists and Lesbians (two considerably overlapping categories) disagree but I don't think that evidence is one of their concerns. Joe has always been mega-independant -- ever since he could crawl. He would screech if we went to carry him up a flight of stairs that he thought he could crawl up. And his first-known sentence was "Don't help", when he was trying to do something and having trouble with it. In the psychology textbooks there is a lot about independance-training and thoughts about how to foster independance in kids. Joe needed no such training. It was in his genes. I have always been very independant too (guess where Joe got it from?) so I entirely approve of Joe's independant traits. Some might find independance in a one-year-old rather strange but I thought it was great. And that independance has continued to this day. Joe wants to make his own way in the world and solve his own problems. Those are traits that were important in his pioneer ancestors and ones that show that he is a true descendant of those strong men of yore. So it is rare for Joe to bring any of his problems to me -- less than once a year. But when he does I have always so far been able to solve those problems for him. The fact that he and I are similar in many ways obviously facilitates that. And we are even both academics so I can have both personal experience and work experience to draw on in any advice I offer. Last Saturday Joe had got quite upset over some problems he had been having with his honours mathematics course at university. Partly at his mother's urging, he did however eventually ring me about it and in a few minutes I was able to put him on the right track. I could not of course tell him anything about mathematics but I could tell him how to deal with the situation. So I was able to relieve his mind immediately and get him acting adaptively. He did roughly as I suggested and with his own hard work and positive personality came out of it all with flags flying (as it were). I have never criticized him and have always been able to help him so I think in that situation that even Mr Independence will in future allow me to help whenever he comes across really big problems. So yes: Boys may not NEED their fathers but fathers can nonetheless make a big difference --- even where very independant sons are concerned. | ||
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On Sunday I invited a few people over to my place for a "mystery breakfast". The mystery was what the breakfast was for. There was apparently a lot of speculation over what it could be. As soon as everybody had arrived, however, I announced the answer. It was held for two reasons: 1) As a birthday bash for Jenny, who turns (somewhere in her '50s) on Tuesday. 2). To celebrate my restoration (at absurd expense) of most of the windows in my old house to their original form. The house originally had casement windows throughout but someone before I bought the house had replaced some of the casements with sliding aluminium windows -- which was very out of keeping with a 1930s style "Queenslander" house. There are two common traditional patterns in Queensland for the coloured glass in the quarterlights of casement windows: One with all amber and another with alternating red and green. I put all amber down one side of my house and red/green across the front, as I like both patterns. For the benefit of any non-Queenslanders who come by here, below is an illustration of some casements without any colours in their quarterlights. 
In attendance at the breakfast were Jenny, Anne, Ken, Maureen, Jill, Lewis, Henningham and Helen. Anne prepared a marvellous Bircher muesli for starters and we also had lots of cold meats and bread in the Northern European style. We ate out on the verandah with a bright winter sun shining in. It was very pleasant. Several of the people present had recently been on visits to Austria and central Europe so a lot of the conversation centred on that -- and on travel generally. Below is a picture of the verandah. As you can see, I have not yet defeated ALL the aluminium windows in my house. Festina lente 
A little joke I had centred around a black octagonal dinner plate that I had found downstairs. It had apparently been left behind by a departing tenant. I happened to know that Jill had an octagonal dinner set which she very much liked so as soon as she arrived I presented her with her own special black octagonal dinner plate for her to use during the breakfast. She got the joke immediately and I afterwards insisted that she take the plate home with her to add to her collection. Some of the people present seemed very favourably impressed by my amber-quartered casements and Helen particularly liked all the brass and copper fittings I have on both my windows and my doors. I was rather glad about that as I had Jeff over the day before to do various cleanup jobs, with buffing up all the brass being a big part of that. Ken in his usual way thought that all my casements, brassware etc was a lot of nonsense. Ken has always strongly favoured new things over old things. De gustibus non disputandum est. | ||
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The photo below is (left to right) of my niece Katie, my brother Christopher and my sister Roxanne. My sister Jacqueline was also in the original photo but she is terminally ill with the family illness (breast cancer) and not looking good at all so I think I am being respectful in cropping her out of the photo below. Katie is the daughter of Roxanne. 
Taken a few weeks ago | ||
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Anne came over early and made us a breakfast of cevapi and eggs. Then we went to church. It must be over a year since I had been to Ann St Presbyterian and I like to visit there once in a while. For both Anne and me it is our old church and I get a good feeling when I go there. Ann St is Brisbane's street of churches. The magnificent Anglican cathedral is there plus two Presbyterian churches, one Methodist church, the Salvation Army City citadel and a rather grand Masonic hall. Ann St Presbyterian church would puzzle a Catholic. It is completely unornamented inside -- no "graven images", as befits an old "Wee Free" church. It does however have the most beautiful woodwork throughout. 
And it was quite full! The old church was still gathering people to it. It obviously has good outreach activities. And there was even a baptism of a little baby. Very pleasing to see. One hears a lot about empty churches these days but ones that stick to preaching the gospel of God's love still do well. There were people of all ages present, but with a weighting towards grey heads. The minister gave a good sermon, recounting the story of Jonah and pointing out its implications. Mr McNicol is from Edinburgh and I greatly enjoyed hearing his Scottish accent as he spoke. The word "church" comes out as something like "churruch" to Australian ears. He is a tall, dignified but friendly man and suits the church perfectly in my view. After the service we came home and had a cup of tea on the verandah. | ||
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Anne came over on Thursday evening and we went to the "Mado" Turkish restaurant at Southbank. I had a sucucluk pide there (something like an Italian calzone) as I usually do and Anne also had a pide. Excellent food. It's getting hard to park the car near there though so we had a walk as well -- which pleased Anne. Anne stayed overnight and next morning we took a trip to Austria for breakfast -- to the K& K Konditorei at Sinnamon Park. We Humbered out there. It really is like a slice of Austria -- but set in a backstreet of a Brisbane suburb. They even sell Almdudler (A herbal lemonade imported from Austria). I had the Bauern Groestl, as I often do, and Anne had a Kransky with Sauerkraut, Roesti and bread. And we both had two cups of their excellent coffee -- which was a bit over the odds for both of us. Then on Saturday Anne's sister Merle had a celebration of her 50th wedding anniversary. It was a dinner held in the hall of the Carina Presbyterian church -- an awful big soulless modern place. Not the sort of Presbyterian church hall I was used to at all. Merle and her husband Ralph do however go regularly to that church so it must have something -- good outreach, I gather. The occasion was in fact a very Presbyterian one: low-key but friendly. Definitely no wild singing and dancing. We did however at one stage have some harp music! It wasn't a Western concert harp so I think it must have been some sort of Korean harp. The lady playing it (Yes. It was a lady. Why are almost all harpists female?) was Korean. You meet Koreans anywhere you go among Australian Presbyterians these days. Why? Because there are now far more Presbyterians in Korea than in Scotland! The main reason Presbyterian missionaries were so successful in Korea is that they were not Japanese. Koreans loathe the Japanese and all their works and do their best to differentiate themselves from the Japanese. Another feature of the evening was a slideshow of family snaps, which everyone enjoyed. There were four generations of the family present, which was impressive. Anne's 90 year old mother was there as were Anne's two little grandsons. Baby Ethan was looking healthy, which was very heartening. His premature birth was very stressful for all involved but he seems to have suffered no harm from it -- due in part no doubt to the excellent care he got at Brisbane's Mater Private Hospital. The food was predictable (roast etc.) but pleasant enough. There was of course no alcohol in evidence and we did start the dinner with one of Merle's sons saying grace. I imagine that some people might have found the occasion boring but I felt on familiar and comfortable ground there. I am rather pleased that Anne has revived my Presbyterian connections to some extent. Our similar background is very congenial. Then Sunday was of course Mothers' Day. As I usually do, I took some good lunchy things over to Jenny's place. She's not my mother but she is the mother of my son. My mother passed away long ago. Jenny's mother is however still hale and hearty in her 80s and she was present at the lunch. Others present were Paul, Joe and Samantha. It was a very pleasant lunch. My contribution was prosciutto, terrine, antipasto and some King Island cheese. Then for dinner Anne came over again and made us some Reuben sandwiches -- using some Dutch Leerdammer cheese -- a Dutch version of Swiss cheese. And I still managed to keep up my usual blog output through all that! | ||
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Just a few notes for any overseas readers Australia's main national day today, when we remember members of our families who died in the many wars where Australian troops have lent a hand to other people far away across the sea. And in one case -- the war with Japan -- we were actually threatened ourselves. In WWII, the Japanese were stopped in their advance through New Guinea towards Australia by the CMF -- the "weekend warriors" of whom I was myself once a part. There are few weekend warriors any more. I myself served full-time for part of my enlistment and half of the American army in Iraq is made up of reservists. The CMF is now referred to simply as the "Reserves". Commemoration of Anzac day traditionally includes attendance at an interdenominational "Dawn service" -- held at dawn to commemorate the time when the original Anzacs landed at Gallipoli. After that there is a huge march through the city featuring "ex-diggers" (former members of the military) and their relatives. It is a long time since I have attended the service or watched the march but my heart nonetheless goes out to the families who have lost loved-ones. Perhaps fortunately, the relatives I lost were distant ones whom I never knew personally. But this evening I will do one very Australian thing: I will attend a family BBQ to celebrate a birthday. The picture above is from Brisbane's shrine of remembrance. It is most pleasing to note that the commemoration seems to get bigger every year -- with many young people involved. | ||
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A VERY late arrival (about halfway through the seder) at my table was what I took to be a mother/son couple. The son was a serious but polite young man who arrived wearing what the Scots would call "trews": pants with a sort of loud tartan check in them. I gather that he was a rock musician of some sort (I know nothing about popular music. I am a Bach man). I am searching for the right word to describe the impression I got of him: "Eccentric" comes close but only in a way that is in my experience rather to be expected of pop musicians. I was for a time involved in selling music computers (Atari STs) so I got to see a lot of pop musicians at that time. And they do rather seem to live in a world not much influenced by convention. He had VERY red hair which he wore VERY long -- and a short red beard to go with it. And his skin was VERY fair -- the sort of light-red colour that I recollect my father as having. My father was also a redhead. So how was this unusual person greeted by those present? He was greeted with great affection by many people. They had obviously known him for some time and loved him for the individual that he is. I was greatly impressed by that. I too value individuality greatly and tend to find eccentrics most interesting. And I am MOST biased in favour of red hair. My first girlfriend was a redhead; The first lady I lived with was a redhead and two of the four ladies I married were redheads. And it gives me great joy to see redheaded children -- which I often do in the places that I frequent. I am most pleased with my son the mathematician (Yiddisher Mommas stereotypically like to refer to "My son the doctor" but I have a feeling that "My son the mathematician" trumps that) but there is a tiny twinge of regret that he is a blond rather than a redhead. There is red hair on his mother's side as well as on mine so it could have been.... I don't really know why I am mentioning these things but why not? | ||
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I went to my first seder last night. It was with a local Conservative congregation so there was lots of Hebrew chanted and sung -- and we used an Orthodox haggadah (order of service). I enjoyed it. It was a relaxed and happy occasion, as it should be. We even had some very pleasant Israelis present. The haggadah was read out loud by various people during the seder and it was mostly read in English. During the reading I was at one stage called on without warning to read a paragraph, which I was of course delighted to do and immediately did. I actually took an active part in the seder rather than being a total visitor. It is lucky I was following what was being read, though! Will I attend another seder one day? Perhaps. I am not religious so that is a counterindication. But I enjoy Biblical exegesis (rigorous interpretation) so if an opportunity came up to attend one in very scholarly company I would be keen. I have only a Christian knowledge of the Torah so I would appreciate a deeper discussion of it. But there are no Yeshivot (Jewish Bible schools) in Brisbane so I am not holding my breath. I would be particularly interested in an exegesis of Exodus 12: 43-49. On the face of it, the Lubavitchers have got it right and the seder should be restricted to Jews only. But, as with all good law, there is a loophole: verse 48. I would fail the loophole myself but there other cases where defining the exception would be interesting. I think that I should in closing express my great appreciation of the inimitable Garek Fish, who led the Beit Knesset Shalom congregation through the seder ceremonies with thoroughly admirable gusto. A note about the shul (synogogue) that I went to: Like Christianity, Judaism is very fractious, with all sorts of sects. Beit Knesset Shalom is nominally a Progressive shul but is apparently at the most conservative end of that definition. They had a breakaway or threatened breakaway a little while back from a group of members who thought they were not progressive enough. Interesting that the usual word used for a synagogue is "shul", which really means "school". It is a small hint of the intellectual orientation of Judaism. | ||
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On Saturday night, Anne and I were invited to dinner by my stepson Paul and his wife. Ever since he was a kid, Paul and I have always enjoyed a chat -- and dinner is a good occasion for it, of course. Paul is rather serious-minded and thinks a lot about the best way to live and behave so the fact that he has a psychologist for a stepfather is a useful coincidence. He always seems to find my viewpoint interesting, anyway. He can see that life has gone well for me so likes to draw what lessons he can from that. Paul has very good memories of when he was a child living in my house. And he showed that by remarking that he would like to buy the house that we lived in at that time. It is a rather magnificent 6-bedroom "Old Queenslander" (traditional Brisbane timber house) with two large iron-lace verandahs -- so that is an understandable aspiration. The house I live in now is bigger but not quite as traditional. Sue is a great cook so we had a feast. She served her own home-made calzoni as an entree followed by a sumptuous lasagna. She must have been in an Italian mood. And we had a very rich chocolate cake to follow. Throughout the dinner we had the music of Philip Glass booming out -- which Paul and I both particularly like. I hope the neighbours liked it too! And on Sunday we had another meeting of our Westside music group. Particularly notable was a Rachmaninoff piano and violin concerto. The third movement in particular had everyone transfixed. The violinist was a young guy who I believe was Jewish -- another brilliant Jewish violinist! Anne and I drove out to the Pullenvale venue in the Humber, which to my simple mind added to the occasion. | ||
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I have long had a considerable correspondence with Jewish readers of my various blogs so I was quietly confident that my Jewish readers would do what they could to facilitate my wish to attend a seder. And that is why I reported online my difficulties with the local Lubavitchers. I have no quarrel with the chabad movement at all and wish all Lubavitchers well but their rules did prevent me from fulfilling my wish to attend a highly traditional seder with them. I am in fact rather glad to find a religious group that resists secularization of its rules. One of my Jewish readers even went to the extent of emailing the Brisbane chabad leader and arguing my case with him. But that did not work of course. Another reader suggested some local reform congregations that might be more accomodating and I have now been accepted as a guest by the Beit Knesset Shalom congregation on 19th. I am of course completely delighted. An amusing footnote, though. The congregation concerned has a seder for Ashkenazim ("Western" Jews) on 19th and a seder for Sephardim on 20th. It is only the seder for Ashkenazim that is open to non-Jews. | ||
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As a non-Jew and an atheist, I have never attended a pesach seder but I have great respect for Judaism (note the flag that I fly on all my blogs) so I thought that I would like to attend one. The local Lubavitchers do advertise a seder so I thought I might go to that one. Alas! They are of course very strict so, even though I explained that I knew something of the teachings of their Rebbe, their person in charge told me as politely as he could that it was for Jews only. He got a bit incoherent when I pointed out that the Rebbe preached love but that did not sway him, of course. As the Lubavitchers are very fundamentalist, I think we might perhaps conclude that we see the basic difference between Jewish love and Christian love there. Jewish love is for Jews and Christian love is for all mankind. Exclusivity is a feature of many religions so I support their right to be exclusive but I don't think it is wise -- as I have pointed out at some length elsewhere There are not many Jews in Brisbane so I think I have now missed any chance of attending a seder this year. Although I have been an atheist for all of my adult life, I did of course grow up into a Christian milieu -- with its characteristic devotion to outreach and proselytization -- so the attitude of the Lubavitchers was rather shocking to me. Nonetheless I should not have been shocked. There were gnostic sects of Christianity in the distant past and there are some survivals of that into modern times (Masons, Exclusive Brethren etc.). But anyway, I think I may renew my contact with my Christian roots this Sunday by going to a service at my old church -- Ann St Presbyterian. Just the smell of old French-polished wood will make me feel good as I walk in there -- and the handshakes at the door won't hurt a bit either. | ||
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Anne cooked us up a Cumberland sausage for our dinner last night -- which we washed down with a bottle of Australian red. As you can see above, a Cumberland sausage is a rather large item: One sausage is dinner for two. I vaguely remember having a Cumberland sausage in a restaurant in London over 30 years ago but I had forgotten what I thought of it. Being a sausage enthusiast, however, I was keen to refresh my memory. The one we got for last night was from Sid, the brilliant British butcher from whom we also get our haggis. Sid's shop is in an out-of-the way place just South of Brisbane but he has lot of customers who know quality when they come across it and are prepared to go that extra mile to get it. I was very pleased with how the dinner turned out. The sausage definitely had a different texture to the usual sausage. A Cumberland sausage is supposed to be at least 80% meat (pork) and with no colouring or preservatives added. There are of course various recipes for it but Sid's recipe was, as expected, excellent. We had the sausage with a salad, though I gather that peas and fried onions would have been more traditional. | ||
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Courtesy of Paul's wife Sue. At least SOMEONE brought a camera this time! 
Jenny, mother of the three below. I don't know where Joe was. He must have been hiding. 
Paul in his tennis shirt 
Suzie looking more prim and less blonde than she really is 
Vonnie in her pretty blouse | ||
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| This year, Easter Sunday coincided closely with two family birthdays (of Paul and Russell) so we had a big bash to celebrate both birthdays and Easter together. There was no church involved however as there are no religious people in the family -- a common thing in Australia.
We had the do at Paul's place -- which is a large house in a quiet suburb with both a tennis court and a swimming pool. The pool was not used but the tennis court was. It was a lunch with the food impressively catered by Paul's wife Sue, assisted significantly by the twinny Suzie. The weather was warm and sunny -- very different from England's Easter -- so we mostly sat outdoors under a big sunshade. We had a visitor from England present who must have been very glad he was here and not there. They are having a very cold and wet winter over there at the moment -- all due to "global warming" supposedly. I had a talk with both Paul and his twin sisters, Suzie and Vonnie, about babies -- making clear that it was about time they had some. The girls will be turning thirty next month. The girls were onboard with what I said but Paul was not at all keen. Anyway, I was glad I raised it as I now feel that I have done my duty in pointing them to where wise priorities lie. I spent a lot of time talking to my son Joe too. We talked mainly about things that were rejected in their day but which became accepted later. The great example of that for me is that the composer of the most popular opera of all time -- "Carmen" -- died thinking his opera was a flop. Poor old George Bizet! One of the kids present had dental bands on his teeth and that inspired me to mention to Joe the "grills" that young American blacks often wear. Blacks saw that rich white kids often had orthodontic bands on their teeth but almost never had them themselves. So they started wearing a blinged-up version of dental bands as a sign of high style. When I had told Joe about the phenomenon his comment on it sounded just like the sort of thing that I would say. He had himself had orthodontic treatment at the appropriate age so the idea of someone voluntarily putting ironmongery in his mouth did not impress him. I also mentioned something he had not known: That when there was a literacy and numeracy test done on all the kids at his primary school some years back, the highest literacy scorer was not -- as one would expect -- a 7th grader but rather a pesky little 5th grader. And the pesky little 5th grader concerned was Joe. He seemed a bit embarrassed to hear that. But, like me, he is good at academic things. I used the word "bling" above, which shows how often I read American websites. It is quite a recent term and originated among American blacks. It refers to any shiny personal decoration, such as the ostentatious and extensive jewelery worn by many American blacks on social occasions. "Grills" are usually shiny and can have gemstones of some sort set into them. | ||
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Although I am no longer a believer, I greatly appreciate the Protestant Christian traditions into which I grew up and which formed a big part of my teenage years. So I still like to honour the holiest days of the year -- Easter and Christmas -- by going to church. In recent years I have oscillated between going to the Cathedral (Anglican) and my old church (Ann St Presbyterian). I feel very comfortable at Ann St but the Cathedral has magnificence going for it. As well as for services I also go to the Cathdral (St. John's) for classical concerts two or three times a year so it too has become a very familiar place to me. This year, however, the Easter services at both were a bit pesky. Ann St had moved their service from 9am to 8am and the Cathedral service was at noon: Too early and too late for me. So Ann and I decided to go to the local Lutheran, which had a 9am service.  I had never been to a Lutheran service so I was slightly surprised to find that it was a little "high": Rather like an Anglican service. The first intimation of that was that the pulpit was off to the side and the altar was central. And the organ was in a loft at the back. The more common Protestant configuration is for the pulpit to be central with the organ behind it -- expressing the twin importance of the word and of music. And the Lutheran minister was dressed in a long white robe! And the service included a lot of responses: Almost unknown in Presbyterian churches. Another thing I noted was how well organized the Communion was. People went forward and left in batches and each batch got a little address from the minister as well as the tokens. The usher who organized the batches did so without a word being uttered: Just a bit of eye contact, nods etc. It was rather a good demonstration of how much culture we share that he was able to do it all in silence. And it was very pleasing to see that the congregation was not all elderly. There quite a few young families with their children. Even some little blondie babies! That the minister is also young may have something to do with that. I was slightly disappointed that we had only three hymns but the ones we had were good and appropriate. We had, as usual, "There is a green hill far away". That hymn always moves me by its simple faith and devotion. But memories of it go back to my childhood so maybe sentimentality has something to do with that. There is a green hill far away, outside a city wall, where our dear Lord was crucified who died to save us all. We may not know, we cannot tell, what pains he had to bear, but we believe it was for us he hung and suffered there. He died that we might be forgiven, he died to make us good, that we might go at last to heaven, saved by his precious blood. There was no other good enough to pay the price of sin, he only could unlock the gate of heaven and let us in. O dearly, dearly has he loved! And we must love him too, and trust in his redeeming blood, and try his works to do. But there were three things that quite amazed me: There was no collection and the minister did not attend at the front of the church to shake hands with the congregation as they were leaving. And we sang the hymns sitting down! Is there no end to novelty? Anne was quite pleased with the service. She still seems to have some residual beliefs. She seems to have the old Calvinist belief that "It was all planned out before we were born". I remember my mother and my aunties saying the same. It is a perfectly scriptural belief (Ephesians 1:5-12) and is even honoured (Article 17) in the 39 "Articles of Religion" of the C of E -- albeit in a cagey sort of a way. One does not hear that belief preached in the pulpits these days but it lives on in the families and among the people. It seems to be a comforting belief but I myself have never subscribed to it at any time. A shared cultural background is quite an important thing. Anne and I have it in spades. For instance, not only is her background mainly Presbyterian but she and I are former regulars at exactly the same Presbyterian church -- Ann St., Brisbane:  So, although I have never been even slightly impressed by Calvinist predestination doctrine, it is nonetheless part of my background from childhood on and Anne's attachment to that thinking is therefore a positive rather than a negative for me. It feels familiar and "at home". Though I do tend to be a little amused by it. But I was amused when my mother said it too. | ||
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I am a member of long standing in a family that is a family only in a rather loose sense. Everybody in it is related to someone else in it but not to everyone in it -- if that makes sense. Even that summary is a bit inadequate as we would tend to regard George as part of the family even though he is not related to anyone in it! Anyway we often get together and always enjoy doing so -- and have done so for many years. Some of the "kids" in the family are now in their late 20s and early 30s! And I think we found last night how many people are in the family these days: 22. That is how many turned up last night. The occasion was a sendoff for Simon: an airforce member of the family who is being deployed to the Gulf this week as part of the Iraq/Afghanistan hostilities. I am actually no real kin to Simon at all but he and I have always got on well at various past family gatherings so I was delighted to have the privilege of hosting his sendoff. Having some military background myself, I was the first to appreciate that his deployment was a significant occasion that should be appropriately marked. I invited everyone to dine at my expense at my local Indian restaurant -- which is first class. I can host only a few people at my own house and the Indians are such good cooks that it would be hard to imagine better food anyway. As is often the case, I spent much of the time at table talking to my son Joe and stepson Paul. I sat at the head of the table and had the two young men on either side of me. The three of us get on very well. Anne sat with the ladies at the other end of the table. My stepson Paul was bemoaning the fact that he had lost $100,00 on the stockmarket over the last month or so. I assured him that I had lost $300,000 and I wasn't worrying so I think that helped him a bit. Joe said that he is just not looking at the market these days -- which is reasonable. It is just a waiting game for wise investors at this stage. Only fools sell during a downturn -- but there always seem to be plenty of them. I have BOUGHT a couple of small parcels, myself. Joe has been eating good Indian food for most of his life, off and on, as his mother Jenny is an excellent cook who does even the most complicated Indian dishes well. So my local Indian restaurant is also Joe's favourite restaurant. Somewhere along the line he has picked up a taste for lassi -- so he always orders that for a drink -- rather to the bemusement of other Anglo-Saxons present. Ken (Paul's father) also joined "the men" at my end of the table, as he usually does. He and Paul disagreed about just about everything during the course of the evening, as they usually do, but it made for a lively discussion. I get on very well with both Paul and his father, myself. Paul and Ken work together in their computer business so their constant wrangling doesn't seem to do any harm. There is zero animosity between them and lots of trust. They just can never convince one-another of anything! Speeches were mercifully short. At the beginning I spoke for about two minutes leading up to a toast to Simon and later on Simon spoke with similar merciful brevity. He will be away for 6 months and it is already clear that he will miss his wife and children badly whilst away -- but having so many people turn up to wish him well before his departure will no doubt help a little. I have often remarked that our frequent family gatherings have given my son Joe a typical Italian upbringing. None of us are in fact Italian but I have always thought that the Italians could teach us a lot about how to live. And frequent big family gatherings around a long dining table are a traditional feature of Italian life. And Joe has grown up in exactly that sort of environment. Forza Italia!. I have never been to Italy but the place where I grew up (Innisfail) was 50% an Australian country town and 50% a Mediterranean village -- and Italians have always impressed me as top quality people. They have their foibles -- like anyone else -- but their virtues (hard-working, good humoured, hospitable, family-oriented people and only a little bit crooked) greatly outweigh their vices in my opinion. But I like Indians too so maybe I am a bit of a Pollyanna. I have certainly been accused of that. I definitely do have the gift of contentment, something unknown to the political Left. I can get bothered by things at times but it is a rarity. I don't let anyone push me around, though. I am pretty good at pushing back. | ||
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NOTE: My main blog is DISSECTING LEFTISM