Now is the Content of my Winter

Orders Please!

2012-01-26T10:12:00.001+11:00

Australians All Let Us Rejoice,

For we are stratified.

I noticed that a reasonably famous 4th cousin of mine who lives in the UK, got a top award - an AC. Congrats, Richard. I feel famous by association.

For an allegedly classless society, the Australia Day Honours list represents rather more than an anachronism. It's also a contradiction. Why this seeking after arbitrary honours in a society in which there is supposed equality? Isn't everyone as good as their mate? Aren't Gen Y teaching us anything about how to puncture self-importance?

Anyway, enough of these rhetorical questions from yet another worthy who was never asked if he would accept an Australia Day Honour ... let's look at some interesting facts. Take a look at this nice map courtesy of "The AGE" newspaper (possibly on the SMH site too).

You'll notice that there are some interesting correlations between the number of awards and postcode. Postcodes with higher socioeconomic numbers have more awards. Four in Potts Point: None in St Marys, Prospect or Auburn (or a dozen other not so salubrious places to live). Likewise in Melbourne. Five in Toorak, two in South Yarra: Zero in the great working man's arc from Bayswater through Dandenong to Frankston.

Also, as has often been observed, higher awards (AC, AO,) go to richer and more famous people (with the occasional splendid and useful exception), while lower awards (AM, OAM) go to mostly unknowns (without exception?).

Of course, the awards are not actually hierarchical. Of course. They just recognise meritorious service to humanity at different ... er ... levels. You know, "humanity at large" means the higher awards. And service to the local footy club ... well, that's ... well ... local.

But not heirarchical, not setting AC above OAM at all. Just like the Gold Medal doesn't mean you are better than everyone you beat to the tape. If you believe this, I have some swampland in Corio I'd like to sell you.

Ironically, the Australian Honours System is an inevitable antidote for a society in which people are created free and equal. In such a society there should be no such arbitrary differentiation, right? But this is part of the human delusion (thanks to Dave Hughes for the phrase). Rene Girard puts it this way:
"Snobbery requires equality. When individuals are [genuinely] inferior or superior to each other, we find servility and tyranny, flattery and arrogance, but never snobbery ... [which] begins with equality. ... The snob bows before a noble title that has lost all real value, before a social prestige so esoteric that it is really appreciated by only a few elderly ladies." Rene Girard in Deceit, Desire and the Novel p.70.

In Olde Times, the granting of a noble title was completely arbitrary. You inherited it, or the monarch, whose power to award it was similarly derived by inheritance (or God), offered it. One might expect that modern democratic undifferentiated classless societies would have no use for such things. Indeed, in doing away with Imperial Honours, Australia recognised them as anachronisms.
And immediately replaced them with a "democratic" system of honours presided over by the Governor-General and an awarding Council of public officials and community members appointed by the GG on the advice of the Prime Minister. Truly independent.

Few writers see this more clearly than Marcel Proust as he remembers lost times and describes the post-Revolutionary French democracy in which the nobility without their inherited right to honour simply pursued the middle-class values of work and reward, converting nobility and its related titles into mere awards for a job-well-done.

Would not we all like to be a Companion of the Order of Australia (AC)? Would we not all like to be recognised as superior to all the plebs around us? Honestly? I would. But then, I'd be so embarrassed if anyone actually found out. My name on a list might be a giveaway.

I walked today where Jesus walked...

2011-11-28T14:36:00.001+11:00

I walked today where Jesus walked

And felt him close to me.

At least that's how the song goes. That's what you expect when you visit the "Holy Sites" in Israel and Palestine. You anticipate a religious experience. Instead, you get crowds, smells, bells, noise and constant commerce. Finding Jesus in this distracting crush is like "Where's Wally?"

So, there I was, charged by a former colleague to organise and deliver the "spiritual experience" for a group of Christians most of whom were making their first trip to the places where Jesus walked. A few weeks beforehand, with the itinerary in one hand and my Bible in the other, I mapped out our route through the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. There would be plenty of material. And only a little bit of it from the Bible. There's a military occupation to deal with. There's history in bucket loads -- like those huge buckets they use in open cut mines.

Was I doubtful we could deliver any kind of "spiritual experience"? Is the Pope a Catholic?

On the Beach - Galilee

Still, I did not wish to be numbered among those of little faith, and I had said Yes despite having made nine previous visits to this part world which should have given me more pause. So, after the action of Jerusalem excluding all but a few minutes of time for reflection, we found ourselves watching the sun rise over the Sea of Galilee the next morning, well before breakfast. Now was my chance. Let's get close to Jesus.

But how? We had just wandered down to the small gravelly beach from our 5 star hotel rooms. Hardly an immersion into 1st century life and times. Someone had organised fish and bread. But I didn't feel there was much to identify with that moment when Jesus met his disciples here after his return from the dead. I don't think the fish he was cooking at the time came pre-wrapped in greaseproof paper.

I said something like "Well, here we are. This is the actual sea. The actual sea that Jesus walked beside. Even that he walked ON. The same sea. The same sand ... er, gravel. Even the same water."

The groups eyes scanned the scene. What were they thinking? What were they experiencing? Perhaps they felt this was all a bit contrived. Maybe they were feeling silly. Or worse, embarrassed.

I paused. What was I waiting for? The right words? What were they? I had some notes. I looked at them. If the Holy Spirit was at work in this moment, could I trust him to have been at work when I wrote these ideas down?

I waited a little longer. No new ideas popped into my head. I took it as a sign that the Holy Spirit was confident about my pre-work. I said, "William Barclay reckoned that fishing was similar to evangelism in five ways." I paused again, although I wasn't sure why. Then I got my answer.

"What are these five ways," said someone to my left, "Are you going to tell us?" There was a hint of mocking amusement in his tone. As if he were asking if I was having a Senior Moment. I liked that. Slightly more confident, I offered Barclay's insights. It took maybe five minutes. I stopped. Allowed Barclay's wisdom to sink in. We all stared out across the water, now shimmering under the rising sun. We were quiet. Some one or two prayed. An unfamiliar song, half-chant half-chorus, emerged.

We were done. We went for a real breakfast of fruit and muesli and eggs and toast and coffee. Coffee!

At the end of our tour as we said our farewells a young woman held my hand and said softly, "I see you are a very spiritual person."

Really?

"Your spiritual reflections were wonderful. I can tell you wait on the Holy Spirit and listen to him."

My head wanted to correct her impressions. No, when I pause, I am merely stuck for words. I am trying to prevent having a panic attack.

My heart let the compliment, for that's what it was for me, wash over my pysche. And perhaps, taking the time for a couple of deep breaths is all the Holy Spirit needs to do his work.

An Eye for an Eye would be a start

2011-11-15T17:58:00.001+11:00

Does ABC News reporting on Palestine and Israel contain bias? Here is today's news:

There are fears that weapons from Libya, including sophisticated missiles that can shoot down aircraft, are being smuggled into Gaza to help arm militants there.

In recent weeks, dozens of rockets and mortars have been fired from Gaza into Israel. One Israeli man has been killed, and retaliatory air strikes by Israeli warplanes have killed 11 Palestinians.
Violence like this is hardly new; every few months on average there is a new round of tit for tat rocket fire and Israeli air strikes. Read the full story here

Or perhaps it could read like this?

There are fears that weapons from Israel, including sophisticated missiles that can shoot down aircraft, are being delivered into Israel from the United States to help arm militants there.
In recent weeks, dozens of rockets and mortars have been fired from Israeli warplanes into Gaza. 11 Palestinians have been killed, and one Israeli man.
Violence like this is hardly new, every few months on average there is a new round of tooth for eye rocket fire and Israeli air strikes.

Daily life in Hebron - October 2011

From Little Things Big Things Grow

2011-11-08T16:23:00.002+11:00

If youdon’t know the song … click here.

Life’sgreatest satisfaction is to see how things turn out. How small steps evolveinto huge leaps. How the germ of an idea turns into a powerful movement. How offeringsomeone a job expands into a significant career.

Againand again, over and over, I’ve had the great privilege to see little thingsgrow into big things.

In 1976one of my first jobs at World Vision was to roll out a new program. We calledit the 40 Hour Famine. It was a small and simple idea, borrowed from Canada.But in Australia it grew to impact generations of young people and even spawnedother big things like the Oaktree Foundation.

Toomany to count are the colleagues who went on to big things. Not a few havebecome leaders in other organisations, or other fields. They grew because ofnothing I taught them, but because they found a place in which there was enoughfreedom to try some little things.

Lastmonth, October, it happened to me again. I saw a big thing that was growing outof something little we had started more than a decade before.

Yes,that’s me on the left. In a bishop’s polo shirt. Third from the left in theblack shirt is Danut (pronounced Dah-nootz)Manastireanu. This is a photo of the Faith and Development team who work in theMiddle East and Eastern Europe region of World Vision International, plus a fewsupporting colleagues from elsewhere in the world. I’m not sure it is fair todescribe this work yet as A Big Thing, but I was a little astounded and a lot delightedto see what had grown from an idea we had last century.

Somewherein the middle of my life as a manager I came to the conclusion thatorganisation culture was the real key to effective performance. Yes, it wasimportant to employ good people. That meant the right kind of people. Peoplewho believed the right things. But if you had the right people, the key role ofleadership was to create a culture in which they could thrive. Leaders shouldlook to the garden for metaphors, rather than the production line.

In 1999,in the Middle East and Eastern Europe region of more than a thousand workersspread across thousands of kilometres and a couple of dozen language groups, weasked a question. Since World Vision believes it is part of God’s mission in the world,how should we express that belief in our work?

I tookthe view, more intuitively than rationally, that the question was moreimportant than the answer. Or, to say it another way, there were probably manygood answers. My observation at the time was that none of us was asking thequestion. At least not often enough.

Ishared the dilemma with colleagues in the United States. Resonating with myconcerns was George Marhad. He’s the guy in the red shirt right in the back.With a haircut like mine.

Georgeknows a thing or two about how to navigate complex bureaucracies like WorldVision. He found enough money for me to employ someone to work on the task. Itwas only a little money. I knew who I wanted for the job. Danut. For two orthree years, we had been mutually engaged in governing the emerging work inRomania, his home country. I wasn’t sure the funds would support a full-time personworking out of our regional office. Danut visited the regional office (inVienna at the time) and it was clear to me that he was perfect for the job, andto him that the job was perfect for him. Only one hitch, according to Danut. Hecould not possibly relocate from his home in Iasi, Romania. I ratheroff-handedly told him he could work from there because it was cheaper. Herecently told me he disliked the reason, but loved the outcome!

Today,from this little thing has grown, and is growing still, a network of colleaguesin the region dedicated to the task of asking the questions about how faith andworks connect. What a thrill to see such a small idea so wonderfully validated.

Bethlehem 2011

2011-10-28T19:34:00.001+11:00

“We have hope. But still we are suffering.” The words of anew Palestinian friend who daily endures life in a land under the control of aforeign army.

“I cannot wait for this to end.” The words of a 19 year oldIsraeli soldier serving his compulsory national service in divided Hebron,between right-wing settlers and beleaguered Palestinians.

This is the land of multiple narratives.

The best known is the Israeli Jewish narrative. A group ofpeople who suffered discrimination over centuries only to find themselves thescapegoats of National Socialism in Germany. European guilt fuelled thedecision to give Jews a safe place of refuge in the Holy Land. Surely they havea right to feel secure at last from victimage.

There are, of course, variants to the Israeli narrative.Those who do not merely wish to live peaceably in a land with others, but thosewho claim divinely ordained entitlement to the whole land. Ethnic cleansing ofthe land is a natural prerogative for those so emboldened by their faith. Thatso many Christians across the world support this is an abuse of Scripture andJesus’ message of the Kingdom.

There is also the purely economic and political narrativewithin Israel that has found the occupation of the West Bank and Gaza to be profitablein many ways, not least electorally. Huge investments in building settlementinfrastructure pay off. Providing “services” in the West Bank is a bonanza thatmakes Palestinians more and more dependent on Israeli business. And, of course,three-quarters of the precious water in the West Bank goes west. Into Israel.

Then there is the Palestinian narrative. It surprises manyto be told that this is not an entirely Muslim narrative. There have beenChristian Palestinians in the land since Jesus. They remain. More than that,they return. I met a small group of tomorrow’s leaders. Or maybe they arealready today’s. I observed an ethic that I had not seen in previous visits.Non-violent, intelligent, even loving resistance.

This was my 10^th visit to the Holy Land, or asone friend calls it, the not-so-Holy Land. Ten visits made me “a veteran” toanother friend, but my 9^th visit was a decade ago. And my first waswhen the Intifada was in full swing.

Many things are the same. The army controls life.Checkpoints are daily moments of frustration, capricious delays and humiliatingreminders that life is controlled by others. The Israeli soldier with the gunis the law, and that’s the end of it. Travel is severely restricted. OurIsraeli friends could not visit Bethlehem. Our Palestinian friends in Bethlehemcould not visit Jerusalem. Of course, permits can be applied for. You can try.

Twenty years ago we heard politicians deny that settlementswere being expanded in the West Bank. At least no-one pretends that lie anymore. The Facts On The Ground are everywhere. Walls and electric fences arecarved across someone’s back yard or olive grove to keep settlements safe. Andprovide a visible reminder that this is a prison.

The patience and good humour of the people is something tobehold. And, praise God, it is not one-sided. That a young Israeli Jew isdedicating herself to guide groups around the Holy Land with a multi-narrativesound track is inspirational. And particularly brave.

Together with the young Palestinian leaders I met inBethlehem, perhaps there is a possibility for peace. Israelis and Palestiniansare, for the most part, such nice people. They would look good together.

The Souq

2011-10-21T01:54:00.000+11:00

     Starbucks! Well, almost. Some enterprising Palestinian has set this up on the main drag that takes the tourists up to the Church of the Nativity. Now I know where to go for my No fat Soy Milk Two Shot Latte Mocha.
     I visited the souq today. It's a market. One section like a huge garage sale of odds and ends. Someone with a whole corner of pre-loved shoes. Another selling toys and bits of toys. Fruit and vegetables galore. Such wondrous fresh smells. And butchers behind glass fronts converting carcases into cuts with energetically employed choppers that explode like gunshots. And all the time stall holders recommending their wares like imams calling to prayer. And shoppers negotiating derisively and reminding shopkeepers loudly that they too have children at home that have to be fed.
     You can hear a 90 second recording of the souq sounds here. audio of souq
      And now here are some pictures. You can click on pics to make them full size:

Afterwards I bought a coke (for the caffeine) and watched the passing parade on Market Square.

Noisy Flushing Is Normal

2011-10-20T06:51:00.002+11:00

     Happy Hour at some nearby facility has been going strong for two hours. I quite like Middle Eastern rap. Or is it hip-hop? I can never tell. To my Western Music trained ear, it always sounds like something is missing. Oh that's right - three notes of the scale.
     I was the first of our party to arrive at HCEF Ecumenical Center for Research and Development. It doesn't look like an Inn from the outside. But then what does an Inn look like in Bethlehem? Everything is made out of the same stone. Everything is blocky. Cool, in a like not hot way.
     El Al wasn't as kind to me seating-wise as Qantas. 23G was an aisle seat in steerage next to the kitchen so sleep was hardly possible with all the comings and goings. And nothing appears to have been upgraded in their 747s since purchase date, although it all still works. The TV system is one of those 1990s ones that just shows a half dozen movies in a loop. So you can watch the second half of one and then the first half of another. I watched none. However, there was a solitaire game that kept me going for quite a while. I always play the 3 card version. Almost never get it out.
     Noisy Flushing Is Normal says a sign in the loo. Never seen that one before, although, as we all know, it is accurate. Maybe too many El Al patrons had to be treated for surprise second efforts soon after pressing the Flush button. Something about the sign made me want to object. Noisy Flushing is certainly NOT normal. If in doubt, consult your doctor.
     The plane was full of Israelis returning from Thai holidays. Many families and young couples. I had to put that chip in my head that copes with flight attendants speaking in an unknown tongue. Hebrew in this case. Apart from shalom I'm way out of depth. I can say (but not spell) thanks in Arabic, but best not slip that into conversation. Impressed with the taxi driver who drove me from the airport handling phone calls in three languages. Had most trouble understanding his passenger's English.

View from my room

     The lodgings here are excellent. Plain comfortable and modern. Air-con. Satellite TV, 21 channels in Arabic.3 in English. Wonder if they'll show the Rugby Final. Speedy Wi-Fi for free. Better than most Aussie motels, mate.
     We're just behind the Church of the Nativity, the spire of which one could see if my room were on the 4th floor instead of the 3rd.
     I strolled around from 11am mostly looking for an ATM so I could buy some water and postcards. The old city is wonderful and wonderfully commercial. Everyone says Welcome and asks where you come from. I usually answer these days but rarely respond to the follow-up "Come in. Look for Free. Give you a cup of tea." Only one hawker was a bit aggressive, but then I think he wasn't quite the full shekel.
     Had a nice lunch of hummus and beef kebabs with fries. The kebabs did have a little too much resemblance to barbecued kangaroo poos, but fortunately tasted much nicer. Mmmm. Garlic. The local Palestinian beer is a worthy drop too. And served properly chilled too.


Bethlehem Fashion Statement.

     I sat in Manger Square thinking I would photograph the passing parade but ended up having a long conversation with a taxi driver who was hoping to drum up business. Not easy, he says, since everyone comes in big busses nowadays. They arrive like gross caterpillars, led by guides holding distinguishing antennae of various kinds. In and out of the Church in10 minutes. Not my idea of touring. I took his card. Nice young man, well presented and, of course, earnest.
     Now I am to have dinner in a nearby hotel.
     ...
     Mihai Pavel, who visited us in Warrnambool, arrived in time to join me at the "Russian" Hotel--a guest house run by the Russian Orthodox Church. The food was very Russian. 'Nuff said.
     After these delights we stopped by Manger Square for a coffee. On the way back there was a loud volley of gunfire from down in the valley below us. The sound echoed off all those stone walled buildings. A few minutes later, sirens began to shriek. Bethlehem is controlled by the Palestinian Authority, so whatever this was one suspects it was not involving the Israelis. Maybe a bank heist gone wrong? Mihai thought we would read about it in the papers tomorrw. Not unless you can read Arabic.

In A Plane Again

2011-10-19T18:36:00.004+11:00

A380 leaves Sydney while I wait.

11:54pm at Home. 2:54pm in Bethlehem. Something else inBangkok.

We’ve got about 3 hours to go to Bangkok and I am still wideawake. Ain’t the human body weird? Normally I would just be waking upmomentarily to the sound of a computer shutting down in a nearby room andlights being switched on, or maybe books being taken out for a little midnightreading. Instead I am in 40G on this 747 somewhere over Indonesia. According tothe flight map on my little TV screen a bit north of Bali, and a bit east ofSurabaya. I’ve been to both places before, I think. Although my only sight ofBali would have been a transition through the Denpasar airport. Although maybeI am dreaming that up. I’ve been so many places, I can’t remember which ones Iwent to, and which ones I thought I might. Have. Went to.

You can see that air travel isn’t good for my brain. Nor aremigraines. One of which I had earlier. Inevitably. Still, medication knocked itdown and me a little bit out.

Drive up to Melbourne was fine, although I took a back roadout of Warrnambool owing to some dumb driver blocking the right hand turn outof Banyan Street and forcing me to sneak into the left lane instead of queueingacross Raglan Parade. Hence I was heading to Mortlake unexpectedly. I decidedto drive out through Framlingam, since I’d never been that way before. It’s avery pretty drive that goes through Noorat which is a gorgeous little town. Ithas a little old Bluestone Presbyterian church. Is that one of ours? The roadcomes out near Terang, so I followed the highway from there. Very slow afterWinchelsea with the new roadworks.

Parked at the usual place and had no trouble getting onto theearlier flight to Sydney except that the flight was full and they had to sit mein the, normally vacant, middle seat between two other frequent flyers who Iinferred from their body language were less than well pleased to have someonestuffed in between them. The tension didn’t help my head. As I boarded, I askedone of them whether the fact that the overhead locker above him was closedindicated that it was chockers and he replied stuffily, “I wouldn’t have anyidea.”

I opened the locker and informed him that “Yes it is.”

He warmed to me later. Called me Sir when asking if Iwould kindly lift my elbow so he could get his tray table out of the armrest. Icontemplated telling him I had no idea, but Christian charity won the dayagain. The other FF was a lady who seemed almost recognisable, but perhaps itwas just that she resembled Germaine Greer. It wasn’t GG though. She wasreading Woman’s Day which scotched that idea pretty fast.

Transferred to the International Airport without difficultyand watched the planes coming and going from the First Class lounge (Thank youagain, James Strong) while the migraine faded away and so did my enthusiasm forlife. No alcohol for the rest of the journey is the resolution.

Spirits improved on finding my Economy Class seat in thislittle private row behind Premium Economy with Business Class footroom and onlytwo of us to occupy the four centre row seats.

“Are you ze Vrequent Traffeler,” says the other bloke in theother aisle seat leaning over to allow me to hear his mid-European accentbetter over the safety announcement. I say “Yes” which is hardly the truththese days, but I have an Emerald coloured card which suggests I am. Or once was.

“Zat is vy vee haf zees seats,” he informs me. I do notregister surprise.

“Indeed,” I say, “and zat is why these seats between us areempty.” Did I say zat then? Oh dear, the migraine has turned me intoZelig. He doesn’t speak to me again. So that worked.

Qantas, you may have heard, is having a fight with itsmaintenance engineers. My overhead light does not work. I don’t mind. I listento Jerry Seinfeld in the dark for a bit before manufacturing a solution.

I can switch on the reading light for the empty seat besideme and a bit of judicious poking at it levers its beam in the vicinity of mylap. Still, if the light over my seat has not been checked before takeoff, onewonders what else they overlooked. Did someone count the engines?

We leave more or less on schedule soon after 5pm Sydneytime. And a meal arrives before 6pm. I choose Slow Cooked Pork with Noodles.It’s quite tasty. And tiny. But one mustn’t overeat. It’s bad for your DeepVein Thombosis according to the in flight magazine. I need to keep my Deep VeinThrombosis in good order, I decide. But then I agree to eat a Weis bar, Mangoflavour, when they bring them around. And, a few hours later, an apple. Itstill has the sticker on it. There’s nowhere to put the sticker and I amtempted just to eat it right off the skin, but then I choose to remove it andstick it neatly in the corner of the paper napkin provided with the apple.No-one comes to pick up the apple core and it moulders away on the empty seattray table for the next few hours.

Meanwhile I watch Senna. Wonderful documentary aboutAyrton Senna. Is that how you spell Ayrton? Like the town of Ayr plus Ton?Looks alright. Very sad though. Cause you know he’s going to die. I rememberwatching that race late at night in 1994. I guess Jamie sat up with me too. He usuallydid.

I had forgotten that Barichello was having his first seasonof racing that year and his car flew, literally, off the track into thebarriers. He was shook up, but unhurt. Senna’s accident was not much different.He just had the bad luck that a piece of his suspension flew into his head.They said he was “otherwise unhurt”. Not even a bruise on his body. Gruesome.

Now reaching the nadir of depressive sadness I chose towatch a rom-com called Something Borrowed which was quite entertainingand starred some actress who looked like a young Sally Field, plus GoldieHawn’s daughter who played to type and some guy who looked like a young TomCruise. Very light, silly and good for one’s sense of general well being afterSenna. It even had a happy ending, although prospects of such a conclusion werewell hidden for most of the 90 minutes.

Now we have 2½ hours to Bangkok and then a short connectionto El Al for Tel Aviv. I guess I’ll sleep on that sector.

Mentioned In Dispatches

2011-10-09T15:58:00.000+11:00


Judy and Jayne read the news!

That famous couple, the Lord and Lady of Glencoe, were sighted in Mildura last week and mentioned in the local press as follows:

Phillip (sic) and Judy Hunt sang along with the crowd to Carter and Carter's closing number, having travelled from Warrnambool to attend the Mildura Country Music Festival for the first time.

"We're actually Jayne Denham's aunty and uncle," Mr Hunt said.

"I used to be a radio announcer in Brisbane and played country music when it was still called the wireless, so we know a few of the songs."

Now I'm At A Restaurant

2011-09-08T13:49:00.003+10:00

Yesterday, 7th September, or as they say in the States 9/7, was my 43rd Wedding Anniversary. By a ridiculous coincidence it was the Lady Judith's wedding anniversary too. So we went out to a new Warrnambool nightspot to celebrate.

CRB is a Cafe-Restaurant-Bar. Creative name, eh? It's half-owned by Matt Ryan, former owner of a Brighton Hotel in Melbourne, but now returned to his country roots. He's brought along his Brighton chef to own the other half.

Now Ryan, is not exactly a rare family name in these parts. Down here by the Southern Ocean, if your surname doesn't start with Mac, then you're probably Irish. Port Fairy was called Belfast before the Gays renamed it. And there's Ryans Removals and even a Ryan's Real Estate that is owned by the aforementioned Matt's dad who also happens to own the building in which CRB has opened.

About a month past I sat next to a pleasant woman on the bus to Geelong (the slavegangs were out on the train tracks that day, so we had to bus it) who turned out to be the Ryan of real estate fame. And Matt's Mum. She informed me of the splendour of her boy's new venture and, convinced of her lack of bias in the matter, ventured ourselves there to celebrate 43 years of cohabitating bliss.

We were encouraged that Matt had decided to set up in the former Porchetta location, the loss of the former establishment having caused profound and widespread disinterest in the community. And certainly the menu looked a lot smarter from the start. A good selection of surf and turf, plus the odd chook dish thrown in. Well not literally thrown in. I'm sure the part-owner chef is making sure there is something thoughtfully tasty for everyone.

I had the porterhouse with chips, vegies and garlic butter.

"How would you like your steak?"

"Rare, thanks."

"Rare?" Half-surprised, half-confirming. Yes, you can get a proper rare steak in Australia these days, Dorothy. Thirty years ago the best you could hope for with a rare steak was medium. Medium was well done. And well done was burnt to a crisp. Still, apparently an order for rare steak is still infrequent enough to warrant a minor doubletake from the waitress.

CRB has a nice selection of local and other wines, all of them available by glass which is a bit rare. Except the Rowan's Lane Pinot Gris which is the one I asked for. Still, they had all the others, we were assured.

Lady Judith ordered cajun style chicken with salad, conga drums and a Rastafarian choir on the side. Just a little bit spicy, she assured me. And rhythmical.

Matt's Mum had told him we would be coming, such was her confidence in her review and the efficiency of the grapevine in a regional city of 30,000 souls. Having been informed that we were celebrating 43 years of marriage ... Hard to believe, I know. We look so YOUNG ... Matt provided a double serve of dessert wine with Lady Judith's stickydate pudding and my macadamia tart thing. Too much sweet riesling isn't necessarily a good thing, but one appreciates the sentiment.

We were hardly alone in the restaurant, sharing the venue with seven or eight other parties ranging from romantic couples like us, to a table of late middle-age women (generous, I am), and at least one family group. For a city that seems dead after 7pm the number of people eating out mid-week is amazing. But then we have some terrific restaurants and CRB has just added itself to the line-up.

Now I'm at the Movies

We went and saw The Help. It's an OTB movie - One Tissue Box - if Lady Judith's accompaniment track is an indication. Quite funny. Sorta moral. And quite moving. (Trailer here http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi809278745/ )

The two actors who play the key African-American roles, Viola Davis (Aibileen) and Octavia Spencer (Minny), are Oscar material. Emma Stone (Skeeter) plays the permanently wide-eyed Anglo-American with curly hair that looks a bit too modern for the 60s (at least as I remember). There is a villain to hate (Hilly) played by Ron Howard's daughter, Bryce. She relishes the role so much you just want to smack her.

It's fun playing spot the well-known actors in minor roles. Allison Janney, Mary Steenburgen, Sissy Spacek and Cicely Tyson among them.

Hard to get the balance right between comedy, pathos and morality tale in this kind of movie, and it's the morality that is weakest. We end up cheering for the downtrodden victims which is admirable and worthy. But we also end up scapegoating and hating the descendants of the slaveowners. Both sides deserve sympathy of the there-but-for-the-grace-of-God kind. What a shame that we find it so hard to identify with victims unless we can find someone to blame.

Travelling with Locals

2011-09-05T17:05:00.002+10:00

If you want to really see a place, go with a local. So, this Father's Day, Judy and I accepted the invitation of our neighbours to visit Bannongill Station, near Skipton and open for viewing in the Open Gardens scheme.

The neighbours are Locals. Like for Generations. Dairy farmers, now retired with the next generation stuck into the milking, and the retired generation building their dream home overlooking the Southern Ocean.

You learn a lot when you go with locals.

"What's that crop?"
"Canola."
"Pretty isn't it?"
"Imagine how great it looks from the air."

"By golly, the land looks well. I don't think I have ever seen it looking so well."

"This rock is bluestone. That one is volcanic. See the holes?"

"What's that tree?"
"I think it's a planticylagruen floriabundelle."
"That's easy for you to say."

And, of course, they know everyone. And are seriously disturbed if they see people they don't know, presuming them to be blow-ins from the Big Smog. Which, of course, is what we are, except since we know the neighbours, we have vicarious familiarity.

"That's Lydia, isn't it?"
"Lydia?"
"Yes, you know, Bob Streathem's oldest."
"Oh yes. HELLO LYDIA, enjoying the garden?"
"What a lovely day, eh? And isn't the land looking well. I don't think I have ever seen it looking so well."

Well. I can't say that we have enough history to assess the relative wellness of the land compared with other years, although all the lakes and dams are full to overflowing. We notice that, compared with our many trips southwest this century. And the early crops of Canola are already two foot high (apparently Canola hasn't been metricated yet). And everything is green.

Of course, all this rain is not without its damp side. Bannongill Station sits on a couple of curves of Mount Emu Creek. It flooded spectacularly in September 2010 and again in January this year. Many kilometres further south-west it took out a bridge at Panmure, closing the Princes Highway for a couple of weeks. Markers show how much of the garden was underwater and damaged. It's a tribute to the owners, and to their cash flow, that they have got it looking so good so soon.

Here are some photos, if you're interested. Click here for the Picasa Web Album

Bushfires and Trash

2009-06-19T20:15:00.003+10:00

Attended a debrief on the bushfires today. Everyone was there. CFA, SES, NGOs, DHS, DPI et al. What are the main things that went wrong? Communications. Lack of role clarity - agencies not knowing what their role was, and the coordinators not knowing either. And handling the public response. Stories from the agency people at the front line about "so much trash". Old toys. Unwearable clothes. Unsuitable items (lanwmowers! - think about it). Broken stilletos. [I suggested unbroken stilletos would be fine, of course]

Everyone says we need to change the public response. It feels like holding back the tide. But there is hope. 20-30 years ago everyone expected overseas aid agencies to ship actual goods in response to a disaster overseas. I remember chartering planes (or part of their cargo space at least) from Melbourne to other points of the globe. No-one does that now, and if anyone suggested that a World Vision or an Oxfam do it, they would be politely refused. So, consistent action by agencies over time, will change public behaviour. We need to be all saying, "Take your goods to your front driveway. Have a garage sale. Send the cash."

Another interesting phenomenon was donations that turned out to be not donations. Sometimes local people used their initiative to organise things to be delivered on a commercial basis. Except no-one knew there would be a bill until it arrived weeks later. You could hardly expect the locals to pay it, so the government ends up wearing the cost (our taxes at work). Not necessarily the most cost-effective way to do it. And some suspicions about the intentions of the suppliers sometimes.

But there is good stuff too. The public response, however misguided, is a phenomonally good thing. The ability of DHS to adapt to the crisis is impressive. Goes against the common perception of how quick the public service can change. The decision to have case managers was made and rolled out (if not completely) within a week or so. Premier Brumby and PM Rudd both showed good leadership and a willingness to sit with the communities and listen more than talk.

The Future of The Economy

2009-06-17T17:31:00.002+10:00

Attended the annual breakfast with Neville Norman at AIM. Here are his forecasts for 2009/10:

GDP Growth.
Govt forecast is for -0.5%
Neville's Most Likely Outcome is 1.8%
Neville 95% confidence range is +0.5% to 2.9%
So, What Recession?

Dwellings Growth.
Govt forecast is for 0%
Neville's Most Likely Outcome is +4%
Neville 95% confidence range is +1% to 7%
So, What Recession?

Non-dwelling Construction.
Govt forecast is for -26%
Neville's Most Likely Outcome is -12%
Neville 95% confidence range is -25% to -5%
OK. That's not terrific.

Investments in Machinery and Equipment.
Govt forecast is for -16.5%
Neville's Most Likely Outcome is -8%
Neville 95% confidence range is +15% to 0%
Not great either.

Unemployment Rate.
Govt forecast is for 8.3%
Neville's Most Likely Outcome is 6.8%
Neville 95% confidence range is 5.9% to 8.5%
It's currently 5.7%, up from 4.3% a year ago. But USA is at 9.4% up from 5.5%.

CPI Growth.
Govt forecast is for +1.75%
Neville's Most Likely Outcome is +2.8%
Neville 95% confidence range is +1.5% to 4.5%
So, inflation under control.

Wage-Price Index
Govt forecast is for +3.3%
Neville's Most Likely Outcome is +4.2%
Neville 95% confidence range is +3% to 5.8%
A bit of wage pressure. We deserve a raise.

Communities in Control Conference

2009-06-16T16:39:00.004+10:00

Spent the last couple of days at the races. Maybe 700 people from community orgs from around Australia. Held at the Moonee Valley Racecourse. Inside the building. Not on the track. Here are some reflections:

Paying Respects to the original owners has become PC. Of course, it IS worthy. Reminds us every time that all us whitefellas are migrants. But I look forward to it becoming more than mere words.

Jenny Macklin: Hard for a politician to make a good speech. Too many risks. Still - avoid protectionist response to threat. Be inclusive and open. It's the Aussie way. Respect, and include, minorities. It's all good.

there's a rise in child protection reports during times of social/financial stress.

Ambivelence about the eulogising of Richard Pratt for his great support of the social works of many in the room. Are robber barons justified by their good works? Eloise Waislitz, daughter of Richard and chair of the Foundation, says Dad loved Australia! I guess it was pretty good to him too.

Professor Len Syme - a nice surprise packet. Unlike most speakers, he stayed for the whole conference. Could be found chatting with anyone who took the trouble at every break. I wrote the following notes:

involve the community as an empowered partner;
a disease focus in treating coronary heart disease has not worked. Why? 3 reasons:

research into coronary heart disease identified 12 main risk factors, but these only explain 45% of the cases;
people find it very hard to change their behaviour. Cited a huge and expensive trial that tried to change high-risk candidates. Failed.
new people keep entering the risk group because there are factors in society that contribute to the risk.

NIH in USA is organised into disease silos (Cancer, heart disease, arthritis) - but there are few institutes for population, poverty, gender. Therefore the funding never goes to studies on the the societal factors that cause ill health.
The most important risk factor in disease is social class.
British public service study showed coronary heart disease rates as a stepwise gradient from the top down. Bottom level was 3 and half times the top level. But 2nd level is TWICE the top level. How to explain it. Syme hypothesis is that it is related to the degree one has control over one's destiny. [Well, of course! People without hope, get sick.]
the critical issue is HOPE. - otherwise who cares about heart disease, fitness, smoking.
Syme told story of the San Francisco bus drivers who exhibited a series of health issues. They treated symptoms effectively, but new entrants soon exhibited same health issues.
Problem was the job itself. The bus schedule could not be maintained. So bus drivers were continuously underperforming, skipping rest breaks to make up time, and getting drunk after work to deal with stress.
Why don't we deal with the fundamentals?

because the funding regime is focussed on particular diseases and is not integrated nor holistic (and is governed by experts).
Empowerment is only one part.
Work cross-disciplines is essential - but all training is in discipline silos.
People DO change their behaviours - interventions mostly don't work, but people will change on their own! In California, smoking has reduced from 43% to 20%. This only happened because smoking was attacked from a multi-disciplinary POV.

Coronary heart disease rates are stable, but deaths are fewer because medical treatment is better.

Rhonda talked about the sceptre of swine flu. I guess she meant spectre.

A book = The God Trick and Science mentioned by a delegate.

Re the issue of racial and social inequality Syme says people don't care! Yes, as a social justice idea, or as a moral issue. But not in a way that makes a difference. It's like giving a dollar to a homeless person. It doesn't treat the real issue.

Why am I so surprised that there is such a dearth of community development process and principles in every initiative? Haven't we known how to do this for decades??

Practice social inclusion in the breaks. Speak to someone you don't know. I obey.

Catherine Deveny is funny, coarse and moral. She mentions two books The Drama of Being A Child and Families and How to Survive Them (John Cleese). I think I might have read the latter. Sad, but she observes that men often become better fathers when they divorce. The space taken up by mother is absent?

Wendy Harmer describing Rhonda Galbally A beautifully decorated, lipsticked piece of earth moving equipment.

Lily D'Ambrosia cites 4 learnings from the bushfires:

Need for systems to handle the overwhelming offers of help (accept, connect). For example, 500 tonnes of food aid [I thought it was more]. 10,000 offers of accommodation.
Need to be able to cut through red tape to get the right things done.
Need to have good coordination and clear role responsibility [I would have asked a question here, but no questions were allowed]
Local involvement is essential in planning post-disaster. Make funds available for community building.

Need to understand that volunteering is changing [she's well briefed!] and that more resources applied. Generational distinctives have created new patterns of volunteering. More than $9 million in this year's budget for volunteering [Really?]

Daryl Taylor from Kinglake. Very impressive. Excellent community development principles. Mentioned Thomas and Tessa Libreri who organised material aid from the foot of the mountain. Set up in acres of land. Got stuff sourced and collected and into Kinglake faster than community agencies could.

The community organised in Kinglake is called KANDO. cute.

Outreach services are don't reach services in peri-urban areas. Listed about 8 community health centres surrounding Kinglake that have money for providing health services into Kinglake. None do.

Worried about the horizontal violence of the mutually oppressed. People turn ON one another rather than TO each other.

Mentioned a book by Cheryl Walter on community development. 5 aspects:
Power with = community development
Power over = planning
Power to = act
Power of = community consciousness
Power within = community commons

Mick Dodson did a forensic deconstruction of the NT intervention by comparing the community development approach of AusAID in Asia and the South Pacific with the top-down, takeover of the intervention. The Office of Development Effectiveness says AusAID is making a reasonable start in implementing the Paris Declarations. Donors partner with communities. Why don't we do that in NT?

Because governments won't lose control. They won't give up power to communities. In overseas aid, the Oz government don't have control to begin with. So nothing to give up. But in NT they ARE the government and community development is too hard.

Governments are incapable of community development. [Resonates with my experience elsewhere in the world. Most CD gets down in spite of governments.] They need to get out of the way and let communities do it.

Richard Watson is a futurologist. Not a futurist which is group of Italian artists.

Change starts with a single event/person on the edge and ripples in to the centre.

Google trendmap and what's next? for Richard's stuff.

Woody Allen said The future is here already. It's just unevenly distributed.

2011 will be the first year that more people will leave the workforce than will enter it. Thereafter we enter an era of skill shortages.

China might collapse. Or split up.

Question from the floor: I have a metal hip and am about to get a metal knee. How much metal, before I qualify for a remote?