Keep calm and carry on driving

Over decades I've seen my partner go from giving a finger, to keeping it under the dash, to now arriving at the boss move of dishing out a thumbs up

Raising an opposable digit is satisfying for the ambiguity.

It looks like "yeah" but actually would sound like a sarcastic note that ends in "good one, Richard Cranium."

It's also an excellent way to stay calm in the face of Ranger danger.

 

Composition assignment

One of the things about having kids is recognising patterns everywhere

 

I see aspects of myself and also how they vary. So it's been interesting working with my second son on the same musical assignment that my first son had a few years ago.

Both boys asked for keyboards to write on, then observed the performance of moving from one chord to another could be challenging. It's at this point that I reiterate how a great product like Suzuki's Omnichord addresses this for non-performing musicians. Nah, they say while visibly recoiling, let me try programming beats in Ableton Live.

After happily programming beats for a while, they lose interest and time passes until the deadline is drawing closer. I draw their attention to how time-consuming it is to pick drum samples after programming one loop, then they realise how the Omnichord exports half a dozen parts as soon as you press a button.

It's at this point that the experience of supporting their songwriting diverges, as my first son took a whimsical "what if it were Bossanova" idea toward improvising a melody. Meanwhile, this week my youngest took a couple of lessons toward writing a song.

We looked at the photo and I told him to plot an intro, a verse, a chorus, a middle-eight and a double chorus before concluding. After a couple of attempts he recorded a full take playing an arrangement from start to finish, with a bit where he got lost adding a build-up.

A day went past and he picked instruments from Ableton Live, as well as exploring the MIDI functions.

The night before the assignment is due and he returns to the project, agreeing that it needs something. We consider improvising a vocal that can be turned to MIDI and made into a solo instrument.

Then I mention my idea that it could be a protest song pointing out the problems with his high school's toilets. My second son has been listening to Bob Dylan and considers the idea, how would it go? I wrote some lyrics weeks earlier based on the Dr John song he likes.

My son had his phone out and starts drafting ideas, which are tested against the existing arrangement to identify lengths for verses and lyrics. After singing it through one time, we record it and mix the result.

Dawn's haiga

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery

I know the quote from Oscar Wilde has a barb in its tail, but I think that recognising one's influence is a pleasing experience.

So I share with you the haiga that my mother penned after a visit to Narrandera yesterday, where we saw my exhibition Zen Roo and looked for koalas and ate a meal at the Red Door Cafe. 

It was also pleasing to have my brother and son along for the drive, as the latter asked if there was a picture of him in the exhibition and I was able to identify one and also one that I think he might've taken (which I really should've acknowledged but I guess he's still my minor). 

Still life

While visiting my sister I woke from a dream about being at a school and teachers asking I to build a pop-up skull

I think I mentioned it to her, but it was still surprising when she suggested we make art on Saturday afternoon.

She identified there were the flowers given to her after our father's death and a collection of animal skulls to choose from.

It seems like a memento mori scene and was fun to try using watercolour pencils.

Reminds me that I should draw more often.

Jest like me

For around 25 years it has taunted me from the bookshelf

I read about Infinite Jest and had been intrigued enough to order a copy, only to discover the size intimidated me.

As someone who likes to read in bed, the idea of holding up this slab was also discouraging.

Recently I thought again about reading it, but there are piles of more easily digestible texts and I tend to go for non-fiction a lot of the time.

I had been prompted by Ted Goia's discussion of David Foster Wallace's prescience, and it's a great article that I recommend reading.

It was while reading the article aloud to my partner that my son heard about the book and, like me so many years ago, became intrigued.

Last night he asked for it, but it took a while for us to figure out which book he was talking about.

"It's got something about forever in the title," he said unhelpfully.

"The book described changes in technology and how it will impact people in the future."

Anyway, we eventually remembered Goia's analysis and the discussions that followed.

Now I'm wondering if the "jest" will continue as I hear my son describe the book's contents, or if it'll sit like so many books by his bedside.

Or if I'll end up buying another copy as my youngest son joins his siblings in leaving home for university.

Nettles

Some years ago I became interested in nettle

I'd read about the amount of iron it offered and noticed it was growing on the property where I was living, under kurrajong trees in the leaf litter.

When I was young, my mother would bake filo pies with layers of spinach.

For many years I'd eat the filo and try to avoid the spinach but, when I left home, I found myself cooking it and enjoying the sentimental connection to this dish.

That's where I began with nettle, adding it to spinach and realising that I couldn't taste much difference.

Cooking removes the sting, but a quick blanch will too.

Then I tried nettle tea and found the zing of the iron a nice complement for the green flavour.

However, when I brewed nettle beer, I began to wonder why this weed hasn't been embraced more widely.

So I began letting it go to seed where it grew in my garden.

This year the conditions have been ideal, late winter rain has brought up patches of nettle and mallow.

It's an ideal crop, self-seeding and filling a gap between winter and spring vegetables.

While there are a couple of spinach plants that have survived, the nettle has offered enough leafy goodness for a few pies and now I'm wondering if I should brew a batch of beer.

Growing together

It's my daughter's 18th birthday today and I'm prompted to reflect

One of the wonderful aspects of being a parent is seeing those glimpses of personalities in little babies develop through childhood and blossom into adulthood.  

There are so many lessons that one learns about themself in the process, particularly that opportunity to revisit memories of one's own childhood from a new perspective.

I found a new gratitude for my parents and was able to let go of some painful experiences too.  

A key moment for me in fathering a daughter was recognising my own sexism, which came as a surprise after identifying as a feminist and studying that topic through one of my university degrees. 

It came after years of viewing my daughter with some suspicion, based on what I now see as a resourcefulness to get what she wanted without asking. 

A family member had written letters to each of my three children and, after they were discarded, I looked over them and recognised a distinct shift in tone within the correspondence directed to the girl. 

That prompted me to reflect on how my own interactions had subtle, yet observable, differences that meant I treated my daughter differently to her brothers. 

Over time I worked to consider my attitudes and address the perception that I might be unconsciously sexist in my behaviour. 

This isn't to say that I don't worry about how the world treats females, particularly how their needs are different, but it was a step toward recognising I wanted her to retain those capabilities and strengths that had been previously a source of conflict. 

In psychology they identify positive and negative conditioning as ways of shaping behaviours, and I guess I'm trying to articulate that the opportunity to be a father to a daughter helped me to recognise a broader range of strategies in parenting. 

There's more I can write about identifying my biases, but for now I want to conclude with gratitude for seeing another child reach adulthood and how my capacity for love has grown. 

Sketchy zine

Made this zine while I was waiting for my partner yesterday

It uses drawings from the sketchbook diary that I kept for a month in 2013, inspired by my family and the work of James Kochalka.

That project developed my comic-making skills surprisingly quickly and gave me an appreciation for how much work Kochalka put into his American Elf series.

This zine will likely be a parting gift to my class when I finish up next week and I hope it shows them the joy of drawing and self-publishing. 

I've used the format promoted by Austin Kleon, see here. 

You should print a copy of the zine and leave some lying around your part of the world because, assuming they don't become litter, it'd be great to be distributed! 

Love

I'm grateful for the love of my family, particularly my partner of 23 years: Jo

This morning my Facebook Memories had this post and it's illustrated with a graphic she published to my profile yesterday:

In last night's subconsciousnews I dreamed that the vibrational field created by Jason and my love for one another was so powerful that it spread throughout the entire Universe in all directions of space and time. 

It was so significant an event that it was taught as history in text/books on other planets, and also anecdotally in the form of oral myths and stories passed down the generations among all sentient beings. 

Neve's iPad art

For years my daughter would rarely share her art

It seemed to be another aspect of the time she spent in her bedroom during high school, which was understandable as the middle child and a teenager.

Anyway, she's now home from uni and brought a few prints of her artwork that have now taken positions on the fridge.

I’m stoked she’s sharing them freely, after my years of nagging to get a look!

ANZAC Day

Captain John Foulkes Richardson was the first of my father's family to be born in Australia and both my Grandad and Dad share his name

Today I reflect that my great-grandfather was wounded leading a charge at Gallipoli and then, after recovering, was sent to the Somme. 

The latter was one of bloodiest and most futile battles, as Australia lost over 23,000 men and gained very little ground against German troops in muddy trenches.

He enlisted on 28 Sep 1914 for AIF WW1, as Captain of the 15th Infantry Battalion, Brisbane, Queensland. 

This photo shows him in the centre prior to embarkation on 22 Dec 1914.

Wounded on 27 Apr 1915. Promoted on 29 May 1915 to rank of Major, 15th Infantry Battalion, then discharged on 10 Nov 1915.

He enlisted again on 1 Jan 1918, which led to his role in France during WWI, then signed up again for WWII on 28 Dec 1939. 

He didn't fight in WWII -- presumably because he was 55 years old. 

Pandora's cake tin

My partner has this container that looks like a prop from a horror movie

She says her cake tin belonged to some sheila named Pandora.

Stealing beauty

Looking through the card from a camera and realised this memory wasn't mine

After recognising the subject and setting, my mind ran through observations about the time of year based on the angle of light and then confirming the layers of clothing suggested it would be winter or early spring.

Then I wondered why it surprised me as much as it did?

There's an intimacy in a selfie and looking in on a scene, a kind of voyeurism that I don't think about enough to feel guilty for it.

The thing I liked most, I decided after sifting through a mess of emotions, is the lighting of the eye.

Jo's irises were one of the first things I remember about her and still give me a thrill to read their grey-blue intentions.

Some days it's like looking at the sea and seeing something leap from the sparkle.

Ducks in a row

Monday morning and I feel strangely refreshed

There’s been a lot of sleep over the weekend, as well as exercise and good meals.

It’s when I begin reflecting on watching a couple of films that I realise.

This weekend is the first this year that all of my children have been at home.

That weird sense of ease and everything being where it’s meant to be?

Yeah, totally.

As much as I love seeing my children becoming their own adults living on campus in Canberra, it really soothed an itch that I hadn’t identified by having them in their own bedrooms for a few nights.

I can see where the ideological lines became drawn like a generation gap, as well as the sense that they had in some ways left home before they moved out.

I also get to breathe in the culture they breathe in another place, by consuming the music and movies and ick as it sounds — breathing in their beautiful young biomes.

That sense of balance is an exchange and I am grateful for it.

Meet Jo Roberts

Western Riverina Arts have a profile of my significant other 

Read it here

I like how the photo of her looking at the camera plays with John Berger's observations about the presentation of women in art.

Younger lovers

Sometimes one doesn't recognise the significance of an event until much later

As a sometime historian I know this is true, but this morning I was prompted to reflect on the statement above.

This photo shows my partner and I in the courtship phase of our relationship.

We'd been together for maybe six months and this might've been our first road trip together.

Jo wanted to visit her friend Rosie and it was little more than a stop for a cup of tea in my mind.

Yet, when she talks about this visit now, Jo says it was a test for me and our blossoming relationship.

She says it was the opportunity for her to get her best friend's perspective of me.

I'm not sure if I accepted the cup of tea or didn't put my feet on the table, but Jo and I are still together after about 23 years.

 

My Orthoceras family

This morning I was accused of making impulse purchases from the Marketplace

I won't name names as it was very hurtful because this description likely contains some factual basis.

It is true that I often struggle with being an opportunist and Facebook puts an incredible variety of secondhand items in front of me.

For example, on Monday I bought this Orthoceras fossil.

Before last weekend I never knew an Orthoceras and now I own the remains of a family.

 

This Middle Ordovician-aged marine limestone must originate from the Baltic States or Sweden, which is the known extent of the nautiloid cephalopod sometimes called Orthoceratites.

Their temporal range was the Dapingian to Darriwilian eras, around 470-458 million years ago.

It is possible these fossils are another of the Michelinocerida genus.

They are characterised by long, slender, nearly cylindrical orthocones with a circular cross section.

The long body chambers have a central tubular siphuncle free of organic deposits.

I find it interesting that tiny teeth have been found in one species along with ten arms, two of which formed longer tentacles.

They died out during the Devonian period, which is still a mystery but fossil records show it led to the evolution of plants during levels of greenhouse gases to rival today.

At that time sea levels were around 200 metres higher than present oceans and Australia was part of Gondawanland.

The greening of the continents acted as a carbon sink and a cooling climate may have led to the late Devonian extinction.

While molluscs continue to be found in the seas and on land, my little Orthoceras family and their descendents did not survive the changes that gave rise to the Earth we now share.

Dylan still chillin'

Last year my son started listening to Bob Dylan

It followed from playlists of Dr John, which apparently had my teenager badged on Spotify as the late musician's number one fan.

I know Dylan is having another of his moments at present with the biopic movie, but my son was ahead of that news.

I also know that I got interested in Dylan when I was a little older than my teen is now, when I wrote a 10000 word essay for my English class in 1991. 

While I still appreciate his writing, my favourite of Dylan's catalogue is the reggae album Infidels for the grooviness of renowned rhythm section Sly and Robbie.

Anyway, it was still surprising that the usual pop hiphop like Kanye and Kendrick Lamar had shifted to music older than me. 

On the weekend my youngest and I were talking about the author SE Hinton, as he'd recently enjoyed The Outsiders and I'd given him Rumblefish for Christmas, and I had an idea.

There's an interview with the author where she's asked why her books are so successful and continue to be assigned to high school English classes.

Hinton recognised that she was still young at the time it was written and still had some of the idealism of youth, which resonated authentically with her audience.

Now it's left me wondering if that's part of the appeal for some of that enduring music from earlier decades? 

Then again, looking at this graph just now, maybe it's because Spotify promotes old music?

Foot rubs

One evening last year, for no particular reason, I thought to ask my partner if she'd like her feet rubbed

After attending to both her feet, she reciprocated by rubbing my feet in turn.

I didn't think much about it until afterwards, when she said we should do this more often.

At that time I remember thinking that I felt my feet get rubbed when I have a bath and that's all good.

So I was surprised within a few days when the topic of rubbing feet came around again and this time she was saying it should happen every night.

It seemed remarkable that after living together for decades, we've found something new other than the occasional TV series.

That's a lesson from 2024 to share.

 

Gradations with u

Normally I hate graduations and have skipped them whenever I can

There's long been a sense for me that they're fake and, while wanting to be well-meaning, they offer empty platitudes with small slices of bland sandwiches after a flavourless ceremony.

Maybe that speaks more to my own experience, as it probably began when I spoke as Chair of the School Board at my graduation and then went on unemployment benefits for four years rather than finding a world of opportunity.

Then, four years after finally accessing the financial support to study, I refused to wear a gown to my uni graduation and found that lots of people told me that I looked better for dressing differently.

It was an experience that might have hardened my aloofness and desire to be distinct from whatever everyone else was doing, which honestly mightn't have worked out so well in the long run.

I've changed careers a handful of times and it feels like that restlessness has been speeding up.

If there's one thing that's kept a sense of regularity since I stopped owning a dog, it has been being a parent.

This role has provided so many opportunities to revisit those difficult memories of being a child and find a new perspective that's sympathetic toward my own parents.

Therapy would have been cheaper and now I wonder if my own children will begrudge me for moments of selfishness or recognise the struggle to keep sane as obligations multiply and come into conflict with our lives together?

Anyway, today I went to my child's graduation ceremony and came away with a very different experience.

My daughter wasn't the first of my kids to finish high school, so I didn't have the shock of wondering why her class was so small.

At our regional high school it seems more than half the class will leave at the end of Year 10 to find jobs, apprenticeships or maybe they move away for opportunities in a city.

My daughter didn't get singled out for achievements, although academically she is as capable as her older brother, who was awarded cash prizes at previous ceremonies that I'd been dragged along to watch.

The Principal spoke predictably about how this class of students arrived five years earlier as children and were now leaving as young adults.

Ha, I thought, what a world they’ve got to find their way through.

Then she recognised that something significant happened in Year Eight, when everyone had been forced to learn how to study online.

There was a worldwide pandemic that saw the stocks of Zoom rise and gave me a firsthand observation of how differently my children approached their studies.

My oldest child struggled without the face-to-face opportunities to be assured he understood the expectations of an assessment.

My youngest seemed to get everything finished within an hour and spent the rest of the day in Minecraft.

My daughter, a middle child, was often so quiet as to be unnoticed.

She would retreat to her bedroom and I began to recognise her resourcefulness, as she never asked for assistance and clearly had observed that Google had all the answers.

When I enquired about assessments she showed me how a group of friends negotiated in a messaging application to divide the workload.

I saw this chat group was named "Boomer remover" and callously admired the dark humour as the casualties began to rise.

Now at her graduation, I listened to people occasionally coughing around me and wondered if I was going to catch COVID again.

Many don’t acknowledge the pandemic continues.

My reflections were disrupted by movement on the stage as the speeches that blah-ed in the background came to lull.

A couple were moving with long hair that looked like something from a time before I had hair of my own.

A young man with a mullet, then a young woman took to the podium with flat long flowing centre-parted hair, that's the style of the day again it seems.

Young Mullet recounted how they'd been told they were the worst Year Seven in 25 years, while Centre-Part spoke about how they had been able to observe changes in their year advisor as he found love and got married.

There was a weird sense that something shifted in me, as I realised the kids had been watching as the world stopped and was restarted.

They had likely also wondered if anyone knew what they were doing while a defining moment in our lives entered every house and then was swept aside by the rush to resume regular life.

Often it seems a dissonance to hear people minimising the risk of lifelong debilitation with a phrase like "spicy cough" so their aspirations can fly again to holiday in unimaginative destinations.

And it occurred to me that this is the way of things, like seasons changing, inevitably cycling through changes that feel like gentle progress while really remaining on the spot like pedalling on an exercise bike.

My cynicism concluded that classes keep graduating and people keep standing behind podiums telling people there is something to look forward to.

Then the most unlikely thing happened, the graduating class danced out of the auditorium.

I don't know when choreographed dancing at graduations became a thing and I suspect I might have seen it at a previous ceremony and thought it was naff.

However, today I looked into 41 joyful faces and didn't see a single cynical outsider pretending to go through the moves.

It was remarkable that a group could agree on music, let alone the steps to go with it.

The graduation program listed names of students that I'd been hearing since my daughter joined kindergarten and, as I looked around, the parents' faces I'd known from attending assemblies all looked older.

That's one thing that's different from my schooling, I went to five different schools and my daughter has only known two.

I wondered if this little community in the Riverina had provided something more than being little.

We walked outside into the sunshine to find the students talking excitedly in small groups.

People posed for photos and I had the strangest sensation of excitement for the possibilities these young people have waiting for them.

So much is changing and there have been challenges, yet the kids have grown up and I realised that I had too.

My own relationship with schools is about to be approached from a new angle, as I prepare to enter classrooms as a teacher.

As I reflect on how much I've resented sitting through school assemblies and speeches for decades now, it comes as a shock to realise that I will have opportunities to be that blahing voice at the podium after I graduate.

I hope to have the same enthusiasm and excitement that I have seen on the faces of students.

Maybe I will know that mask-like smile that I see teachers wear during public events at schools.

Or perhaps I should recognise the times have changed and learn to dance?

Time really does move in circles, lapping seasons and ticking over years.

Each revolution brings a new perspective on the next.

I just need to keep learning new moves to stay relevant.