Wednesday 24 July 2013

PoLiTiCs! Alternate title: an explanation to my family and friends


I am stuck between two worlds.

My conservative friends don’t want me – I like Julia Gillard, am violently, vehemently, very, very opposed to live export, and worst of all, I am a vegetarian.

But the left-wingers don’t want me either. I go to church, pretty much every week (give or take the odd ill-timed hangover), I think conservative-thinking is not all bad and I once queued for an hour to shake John Howard’s hand.

A quick Google of left-wing Christians proves that contrary to my personal experience, I am NOT alone.

But where are you all?

I am if not, an outright pariah (they are far too polite for that) among my religious friends, I am clearly and obviously a product of my university education.

As my family roundly mocked my fondness for Julia Gillard recently, my Dad declared

“Your brother came out of uni like you too.”

I replied “like what? Clever?”

Laughter diffused the situation, but you see, I was raised conservative. From the moment I was taken home from the hospital to our little slice of suburbia in scruffy Forrestfield, I was taught that Winston Churchill was king. Margaret Thatcher was queen. Left-wing types are to be mocked – their undoubtedly Godless morals questioned. And really, they should all get a job. And have a good shower.

That was all very well, until I began to notice things… like why, after a move to Pinjarra, were the indigenous kids in my class treated worse than me? Why was every damn thing at school sponsored by Alcoa (I thought they were a charity at first)? And why were all the grown-ups I know so unhappy?

I still don’t know the answer to that last question, but as I got older I began to learn. Listen. Made friends with those left-wing types, and yes, just like I was taught, actually a few DID have a relaxed attitude to sex. But at least they were open about it – unlike our pastor who ran off with the pianist, leaving behind his wife and children.

Honesty. That’s what I began seeking. And I’m still searching.

Intelligence. Intelligence to me, means people, and politicians, who are willing to (and not afraid to) listen and consider ALL the political views and not just the ones they happen to agree with.

Bravery. I love people with the courage to speak their mind. Politicians who are not just echoing the party-speak. Toeing the party line is a blight on the current political stage.

So to my Christian friends who are inwardly shaking their heads at me, wondering where I went wrong and vowing to pray for my soul, can I ask you this? If Jesus came back tomorrow, who do you think he would hang out with?

Would it be the rich mining magnates? The business people? The royal family? Who do you reckon he might stick up for? Who would he help out? Who would be the Peter of the day? Yes, he loves everyone, but he also called a few a brood of snakes.

And I’m scared of snakes.

 

 

 

Friday 22 February 2013

The illusion of prestige. Valuing fun.

I learn far more from my kids than they learn from me, I tell you.

My youngest and I have almost an hour each day alone together at the moment as we do the school-run between two different schools - dropping off her two older siblings earlier and collecting them later.

I am really enjoying our time together to chat. Just the two of us. She's a quiet one. And her older sister isn't. So oftentimes I don't get to hear an awful lot from her.

She has been catching the school bus to swimming lessons and she was telling me about her dream to one day stand in the aisle while the bus is in motion.

And then the conversation moved to the school bus drivers who have been driving her to school swimming lessons.

"There's this one guy with a beard - he's really nice, but the other guy always drives up the kerbs," she said.
"Always?" I questioned, laughing, wondering if she'd noticed my kerb-hitting ways.
"Yep. When we go around corners we all wait to see if we are going to hit it. It's kind of fun in a way. Anyway, I was talking to Daniel and I was telling him about how my Poppy was a bus driver," she said proudly.

"Did you?' I asked wanting her to say more. And she did.

"Yeah and I told him about how Poppy worked as a security guard on Garden Island."

"You sound as if you think that's really cool?" I questioned further.

"It is," she said matter-of-factly.

Conversation over.

And I realised - it is cool.

Why do we grown-ups attach prestige to jobs? Why? Is it salary?
Really?
Is it because we think corporate types are smarter? Because I know that is not true at all. Total bollocks in fact.

I can tell you this. Currently, I have a prestigious job. Probably the most prestigious job I have ever had.
And I tell you this. I had much more self-respect, better work-life balance and definitely more fun working at Hungry Jacks, Woolworths and all my other 'low prestige' jobs.

Maybe we should be more like my 10-year-old and base job prestige not on education, not on salary and not on power wielded.

But on fun.

Fun.

What a concept.