The Kiwi Culture

Today I was exposed to my first, and hopefully my last, incident of gender discrimination. New Zealand is still at heart, a bit of a chauvinist society, usually we describe our culture as having a 'pioneering edge', but in truth, the term chauvinist is much more accurate. And 'blokes' caring for babies still don't fit into the local world view.

So when a 'boy racer' had to stop his souped-up old Chrysler Valliant so I could push Sujins pram across the crossing I was not all surprised to see him roll down his window and hear him shout, 'get off the road ya homo'

On reflection. I'm not sure if it was the pram, the tight jeans or both, but at least he didn't call me GANDDAD!

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But what lies beneath?

David Bowie and Madonna are past masters at it. The media call it reinventing yourself and it involves taking on a new persona, drastically altering the way you look and dress and maybe even having surgical procedures done too, so that you can re-present yourself as a new product to a new market.

For most of us non celebs, this is only something we read about in 3am, or similar publications that we browse in the doctors waiting room: perish the thought that any of us would admit to buying such puerile trash. You see, for the most part we adopt a hair style and choose the type of clothing we feel we look best in while we are still in our early teens and, apart from gaining weight,wrinkles and grey hair, we remain largely unchanged, appearance wise, till the day we die.

When my grandfather went to work at around 14 he wore his first suite, a style of clothing he then wore everyday till he died. At a similar age I, and my generation, adopted jeans, sneakers and t-shirts as our national costume and, whilst it is not something I wear everyday, it's still my default dress code setting. When todays 14 year olds become grandparents they will still have scruffy hair, ware a hoody and pants that carry the crutch at knee level and are weighted down by chunky silver chains.

But what lies beneath? Is it just external appearances that are important, or need we look deeper?

With this being the first year of my seventh decade I've been using my changed circumstances (retirement, relocating back to NZ after seven years, becoming grandad, rather than dad etc, etc), to look beneath. To try and see objectively, if I can, who I am and how I fit into the space I (and others) have unthinkingly moulded for me over the past 60 years. To have, if you will, an internal makeover and possibly discard some things that no longer serve me well, perhaps even take on some that are more in keping with my current neads? But what's inside is far harder to identify honestly and objectively, and still harder to alter than either my hair style (if I had any left) or the type of clothing I choose to wear.

So, whilst this process has unearthed more questions, at this stage, than answers, it has made me hugely aware of the influence I will have on the development of Sujin's world view, her values and her attitudes and maybe, understanding this will be key to my own internal make-over.

Anyone for charades?

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Autumn

I lay there on the soft grass and looked through the branches of a not too mighty Oak at the clear cloudless sky above. Leaves at the furthest end of the branches were just beginning to turn. Golds, reds and browns, all heralding the coming of autumn. The neighboring Pohutukawa, an evergreen, had lost all of its summer blossoms and was now a tight mat of succulent dark green leaves, like an animal taking on body mass to nourish it over the coming winter months.

During the past seven years, the sharp contrasts of the Northern hemisphere seasons have become, for me, a calendar. Four distinct twelve week cycles that, despite global warming are a constant reminder that we are part of a greater mystery. and I shall miss them.

Unaware of my reminiscences, baby sat there in the pram, gooing and enjoying the late afternoon warmth. Children are so uncomplicated.

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Another milestone

Sujin has a ride-on. It's a small chair and toy tray, like a car really with wheels and a space for your legs to hang through to the ground. Several weeks ago her legs became long enough to touch the ground and she soon mastered backward movement. This was rather good as I only had to point her in the direction I didn't want her to go, and she was sure never to get there. However, today she discovered forward (and sideways) movement. This means she can run away from me. But worse still, she can now get to the table and reach things from it! I fear my troubles may have only just begun. Oh well. such is life.

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Some people are so shallow

With no baby duties today (Sunday) found me, once again, in the small dark church where I spent Easter. Can't remember a word of the sermon, but the the Motet (Handle) was very moving and the Voluntary, J S Bach's Toccata and Fuge in D, absolutely divine.(click on the link and have a listen)

Who me, Shallow?

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The voice of an angel

No, not Charlotte Church. For several days now Sujin has been discovering her voice. At first it was just gurgles and blowing raspberries. Then came the unintelligible sentences with accompanying facial expressions and, just incase you were in any doubt, a rising inflection to underscore the fact that it was a question. Well today we added volume to the mix. We were out walking, well I was doing the walking, and SJ was in her push chair talking. As we entered the shopping complex she quietened momentarily, the ambient noise in the mall quite drowning her 'singing.' It was then she discovered the volume control and, raising her voice several decibels, she began competing. Singing at the top of her little voice and smiling.

A passing mother looked in at her, smiled at me and said," Yi know, yi cant wait for them to start talking, then as soon as they do, you spend the rest of your life trying to keep them quiet." Oh well, win some lose some.

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The Clash of the Titans

I'm not sure if babies today are more energetic than they were in the 70's, but all this baby minding has me run ragged, and I'm only a part timer! No night shift for this old feller. No wonder traditional wisdom had been to have your family while you were young enough to cope. However modern lifestyles now mean that one in five women world wide have their first baby at age 35, or above. And there are many benefits associated with this trend such as a more established lifestyle and greater affluence.

However from the other side of the fence Nancy London, Canadian author of 'Hot Flushes, Warm Bottles' described this phenomena as 'The Clash of the Titans,
When Maternity meets Menopause'
Well, as a granddad I've never experienced either of the above, but I certainly notice my ebbing energies being challenged by Sujin's growing enthusiasm to chew up each day.

Now, what was that story called again, the Hare and the, oh yes, Tortoise, thats it.

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Working from home

One of the things I like best about working from home is the casual dress code and relaxed work ethic. So today, like most days, I arrived at work at 7am, unshaven and in my dressing gown, collected my work assignment, (baby) and returned to my office, the bed! Nappies, bottle, winding and stories were dispatched from our breakfast meeting agenda over next next hour or two along with; making my own breakfast, showering, tidying up, putting out the garbage, putting on my clown suit (to keep baby amused), phoning doctor, chasing neighbors cat away from scratching in the garden, and putting off any un necessary activity that may divert my attention from the fact that she might; eat the flowers, pull over the standing lamp or throw up on the Persian rug! Of course, all this would be so much simpler if we shared a common language and I didn't have to present several individually viable alternatives to each of babies frustrated shouts for attention or eye rolling goo and gurgle that, by it's intonation, implies a question to which I should know the answer.

The above then becomes a recurring module, which (apart from brief sleep times) replays itself, with minor variations, till my relief (mother) returns to takeover at 5.00pm. Then with shaking hand and pronounced twitch in the left eye, I pass baby back.

How come you're still in your dressing gown dad?

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Now that's a real job

To be perfectly honest, I'm really only a part time child minder. I actually get evenings and weekends off to recharge my batteries, so this Easter weekend I've been doing a little socialising. Nothing too hectic but it's great to meet other adults outside of Plunket, baby doctors or supermarket checkout assistants. My biggest challenges on such occasions is justifying my existence to new people I meet. Though some think being a 'solo granddad' is pretty cool (even if a little crazy) others just look blankly at one: as though one had two heads! Ok it gets the sympathy vote but it doesn't generate a lot of street cred(abiliy)' No one takes you very seriously. Like, oh yeah granddad, get a hair cut and get a real job!

I wonder if I should try upgrading the title from child minder to Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations."

Mmmmm, now thats something you could be taken seriously about!

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A sign of the times?

It hung there,far above my head. A thin brush stroke of white extending unbroken in the still Wellington sky from as far as the eye could see in either direction. It was only the vapor stream of a commercial jet, but it's such a rare sight here in Wellington as thick moving cloud and blustery winds (the normal default setting for a NZ sky) usually disburse them the instant they form. It was a rare sight, and I watched it hang there, seemingly forever.
Friends who are obviously more attentive than I told me that they too had noticed the phenomena regularly over the last 6-8 weeks of clear breathless weather we have been enjoying thanks to Global Warming: and I remembered the unseasonably cold rainy days of our summer Christmas a mere 12 weeks ago. Writing from Macedonia today, missionary friends there told of their first ever snow-less winter which has seen the level of beautiful lake Ohrid drop by more than a meter, cutting drastically that countries hydro power generation capabilities. Another of natures calling card condemning George W's (and Australia's) refusal to ratify the Kyoto Protocol. At one level I must say I am enjoying our extraordinarily late summer, but at the same time I despair at the legacy we are leaving to Sujin and her generation.

To borrow a line from a Dylan song,"when will the ever learn. . . .when will they e-ver learn?"

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A Senior moment

He sat there, behind the organ in the dimly lit church stripped of it's adornments and bared for the Good Friday passion. He was an older man, perhaps in his 80's and distinguished looking in his academic gown and hood, his gray flannels and matching silver hair. He stood, shuffled across the Chancery area toward the choir, gesturing as he did, for them to stand. As he positioned himself at rostrum he raised his hands authoritatively and the first notes of their choral offering rose to the fill the small parish church.
It was a grand occasion and he had filled this role many times in the past. Afterwards, the reading of the Passion began and he returned to his darkened corner at the organ bench. At the end of Passion, a lenghty section of St John's gospel, the priest and the congregation sat and the choir stood. Eyes darted fertilely. Like star wars lasers they searched the darkness of the church coming to rest, as one, on the sleeping figure of the organist. Throats cleared and music scores rustled but alas, the old man continued his slumber unaware of their awkward gazes. Finally a would be invisible chorister tip toed across the Chancel area, arranged the old mans music and smiled as the organist re focused himself, completely unaware of his momentary lapse.

Choristers 1, Organist 0 - the game continued.

PS -- He redeemed himself tonight with the most brilliant 15 minute organ Voluntary at the end of the vigil mass. Well done!

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Easter Greetings

It's Easter. The first in seven years where I can not smell fresh blossom on the trees, see spring flowers breaking through the hard ground of winter past, or hear the sound of a Cuckoo or a Robin. Instead, the late summer days here in NZ turn my thoughts toward the cold months still to come. To preparing winter soups and casseroles, enjoying an early evening beside the fire or wrapping up warm to walk along a windswept west coast beach feeling the salt spray on my face. These are the memories of Easter in youth and they, just like Easters blossoms, remind me that spring is on its way.

Meanwhile I'll take my copy of Bach's St Matthew's' Passion out of it's plastic CD case and a nice bottle of Merlot from the shelf and reflect on the Easter message and the joys of spring.

Happy Easter

Ps: The photo is of Spanish penitents going to confession during Holy Week as we saw them when we were living in Altea.

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And not a safety pin in sight!

I'm sure babies haven't changed that much in the last 40 years or so, but the procedures and practices surrounding their daily care certainly have. And the vast array of accessories one needs these days just to operate one. Once upon a time you just piled baby in the back seat of the Ute along with everything else, and headed off into the great blue NZ yonder. Well, at least that's my memory of it all - but as I have said earlier, I'm new to all this.
So there I was this morning heading off to the doctor with one small baby and more gear than I took to Everest Base Camp, or on Safari in deepest (darkest) Africa. We could have survived out there on the plains of the Hutt Valley for a month or more had we got lost. Then half way to the surgery it struck me - did I have and safety pins, how on earth would i cope with a nappy change?

Oh, yes - babies don't require pins these days, do they. Well, at least I learned something today.

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I'll get by with a little help . . .

Patchy day today. Weather and baby! Not one of Sujin's best as she is beginning to feel the push of her emerging teeth and is inclined to be a bit grizzly. However we are making excellent progress with the eye-hand coordination since we discovered hands, and rusks, about this time last week. We've now discovered the hand, rusk and mouth combination. This opens up an infinitely more satisfying scenario but there is still the question of orientation to master as the rusk tends to arrive at mouth on a vertical rather than a horizontal plane. This, as you can imagine, is the cause of much frustration and anxiety for a beginner, and needs grandparental intervention to complete a successful docking routine.

Who says grand parents are no use!

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New Horizons

The unexpected always adds colour to the day, and today was no exception. An appointment reminder call from Plunket (yes, I'd forgotten) catapulted me into the shower and out of the door in record time. (Neanderthal man to genius in 10.4 seconds - remember the Kellogg's TV add?) A chance to drive a real car (not a truck) and to socialise and talk to other adults, even if it was only about babies, seemed to be the best game in town. And it was! I was totally energised by the social contact and baby was back in time for her mid morning nap. A 'win,win' for us both.

I'm now holding my breath for the next excursion. The pediatrician on Thursday. It's not a very big horizon but it is a horizon we can both travel toward. Who knows, today the doctor, tomorrow - the library???

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Looking through new eyes

My garden is not the greatest. Just a few roses over the pergola and some shade plants in a border area along the edge of the decking, but Sujin has discovered it and is fascinated by it. She sits, for long moments, taking in every aspect of each flower and leaf. Examining the big Dahlia flower heads and looking carefully at the wee daisy bush that is growing in a tub beside the trellis.
It's made me look again at things around me, that time and familiarity have given me to take for granted. Shadows dancing across the deck, clouds forming and moving over the sky and the way the wisteria moves in the breeze.

I think sometimes we feel we have so much to teach children but I find I'm learning so much too.

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Palm Sunday

Today is Palm Sunday. In the secular world perhaps the least publicised of any of the Christian feasts. It doesn't have the commercial pull of Christmas shopping or the warm fuzzies of the Good Friday Easter bunny, but the message of Palm Sunday is perhaps more profound than either.
Jesus enters war torn Jerusalem on a donkey. Pilot, the symbol of Roman authority and might would have pranced in along the same road on a white stallion accompanied by legions of troops and the cheering of the gathered crowds. The comparison presents a satire playing off humility and individual weakness against power and corporate strength. Two thousand years later Jerusalem is still war torn, the Roman empire has vanished into the pages of history but, Jesus lives.

The lesson of Palm Sunday is the message of David & Goliath: that we, the little people, week and powerless as we seem, have the ability through that weakness, like Jesus, to effect enormous change on the world around us. More even than the Goliath oil barons and coprorate giants! (See yesterdays blog)

Yea, the little people!

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