Why I blog...

I often get asked why I blog…the answer is simple!   The answer lies in the meaning of life – too deep?   Well, sort of.   It hit me like a “ton of bricks” when my dad was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer and I was sitting beside his hospital bed in rural Australia that early  September day in 2010.   

It was the deep and unrelenting sadness that comes with such a finite judgment.  As I sat there I soon realized that I didn’t know much about my dad’s life and I vowed then and there that I was going to find a way to share my life stories with my kids so that they knew exactly who I was and what had shaped my life…well before the final curtain is drawn on me - hence my weekly blog!

I learned that my dad was a fascinating person who had led a tough but extremely varied, experientially rich and simple life.  Over the ensuring weeks he told me dozens of stories, sometimes sad, often funny and more often than not there were life lessons sprinkled in amongst them all.  I want to share a couple with you that I hope you like: 

George Goltz planting sugar cane
Queensland, Australia circa 1954

The first was when he worked on a sugar cane farm at Eaton (just outside Innisfail) Queensland, the year was 1952 and dad was 20 years old.  In was his first season working on Goltz’s farm and he was too poor to afford boots or shoes so he worked bare footed in the cane fields, a pair of shorts, hat and a cane knife (machete) his only real possessions.  His feet must have been so tough to withstand the razor sharp stalks and I’m sure he had a few good cuts but they can’t have been too bad as he couldn’t remember them all these years on.  The owner of the farm (Mr. George Goltz) was astounded by this new lad he had on his crew.  Why didn’t he wear any boots?  Was he mad?  Didn’t he know that the cane fields are also inhabited by an inordinate number of deadly snakes?  (The Eastern Brown and Coastal Taipan are two of the top three most deadliest snakes in Australia, and happily inhabit the cane fields).  Dad was never afraid of snakes and even as kids when faced with a fierce Tiger snake in our back yard (trust me we had plenty), dad would always go toward it and take it out with what ever he had in his hands or could lay his hands on at that moment – completely unfazed.   After killing the snake and hanging it on the closet fence (as an example of it to all other snakes nearby) he would carry on as if nothing had happened!

My favorite photo of my dad with
one of the snakes he captured in the
cane fields - Queensland circa 1956

Anyway back to the story - George feeling sorry for the lad offered dad an old pair of boots, but dad was too proud to accept and respectfully declined saying that when he earned enough money he would buy his own.

It took him a few weeks to find his groove, but Dad’s record for a week of cutting cane that first year was 90 tons of cane cut in the field and stacked onto rail cars destined for the local mill all by himself – can anyone say herculean effort?    Suddenly dad when from being dirt poor to being relatively well off over night cos’ in those days he was paid by weight/tonnage at the mill (one pound per ton – you do the math).   And so by sending the majority of his pay home to his mother he was able to pay off the mortgage to the family home in less than a year.   Not bad for a 20 year old!

The other great story he told me was the time he was working on another farm in central  Queensland after the sugar cane season was done.  There was about a month between jobs so he asked around and low and behold a farmer from quite some distance away overheard dad asking for work and so gave him the job on the spot (yes, it was a Saturday night and yes, it was in a pub, and yes they both had too many beers).   Next morning dad found himself in the back of the Ute bumping along a dirt track with an enormous hangover and long ride ahead over the Atherton Tablelands…. The homestead was literally “beyond the black stump”! 

Dad cutting cane on Goltz Farm - Eaton, Queensland circa 1955

The first order of business was to get dad busy so he put him to work right away, ploughing hundreds of acres of surrounding paddocks in readiness for the planting of his cereal crops.  That first night he asked the ‘boss’ where the shower was so he could clean up.   The boss looked back a little dumbfounded and said there was no electricity or running water on the farm, and that water was too precious for bathing in.  However, he did point to the water tower some 100 meters distant from the homestead.  The windmill pumped the water into a large 10,000-gallon tank, which was set some 30 feet above the ground on a wooden stand.  Without saying another word, dad turned and walked resolutely toward the tank stand.   Looking up he realized that there was little room to maneuver once he started to climb the tank so he dropped his shorts (always commando in the tropics – great advice dad!) and kicked off his boots (yes, by this time he actually owned a pair!) placed his hat carefully on this pile and began climbing up the tank stand completely naked.  Once up on top, he also realized that to get up on the top of the tank so he could paddle around inside he would have to jump (dad was only 5’ 6” in height, but incredibly well built and strong) to get a hand-hold on top so he could pull himself up literally by his fingertips. 

Logistically a couple of things still stood between him and a wash.   Firstly the tank stand was 30 feet in the air, standing on the corner of the stand with about a foot of space to land on if he couldn’t hold on once airborne.  The other bigger issue was over the course of the day the tanks metal sides get rather hot, in fact very hot and certain parts of his anatomy would be in contact with this metal so he had to make the leap surely and scamper up quickly to ensure he spent as little time as possible spent wedged against the tank -  this would be an absolute imperative. J

One of dad's Union cards - everybody belonged
the AWU in those days...no exceptions

About this time he heard a muffled laugh, turning toward the house he now realized that the entire family was now sitting on the steps watching him – the husband, wife and the four kids.  This was better than anything they had ever seen before, a naked man trying to jump up onto the top of the water tank….and all just for a wash?   I'm sure its better than that thing called "television"?

Each night for the month, unperturbed by the spectacle and show he was putting on for the family (yes, they would come out each night and watch!) he would once again tackle that insanely high tank stand to once again luxuriate in the cool and earthy waters.   

Yep, that was my dad...now you know where my personality comes from. 

The reason for my blog came into sharp focus last night when I attended my son’s Grade 7 parent teacher interviews and was talking to his homeroom teacher.  He related that Zach had recently been telling some of the other boys in his class, quite proudly about the stories from my blog (yes Zach is an avid reader and critic of my blogs).  I was flattered to think that he would want to tell others about the stories of my life - firstly that they were cool enough to want to tell to his mates and secondly that they were interesting enough to capture his imagination in some way.  

Dad sharing one of his stories with me and one of my favorite photos!
Daylesford, Australia (November 2010)

Clearly writing my blog is paying off in ways I don't even know yet but with a long term pay off to be sure.   I feel like I'm already well ahead of the game in sharing my life stories with Zach and Sami.....and you as well.

A win-win wouldn't you say?