My Wandering Dad

(hang in there, there is a poem at the end)

I was six when my parents broke up and eventually divorced.  That was back in '54.  Dad tried to hold things together but mum and her family were pretty bloody minded about the whole thing and in the end he left.  He left Western Australia where we lived and went to stay with his brother Harold in Sydney for a while.  The last Harold saw of him... anybody from both families, saw of him for that matter, was when he put my dad on a Qantas flight heading for NZ.

I often wondered through the years what happened to him, and then aunt Josie, his sister in England, got in touch and she tried as best she could to find out his whereabouts.  I got enthusiastic for a bit and then my enthusiasm waned with the lack of clear results and our endeavor went by the way.

Well there I was at my office desk some three years ago in 2007, and uncle Harold phoned and said he had contacted dad.  This was only 53 years after he left mind you, so it was like a bolt out of the blue.  He asked my permission to pass my phone number on... and then he said - "and if he wants to, he will phone you.  It's been a long time."  So with that sorted I wondered what would happen.

I didn't have to wonder long, because 3 days later, again, sitting at my desk, the phone rang and the voice said "G'day son, this is your dad".  People have asked me how I handled it, whether I was emotional or whatever, and I guess I was just a bit casual about it... a little emotionless really.  I've thought about it and think that my reaction  could be described in terms of me walking down the street and having a total stranger approach and say the same thing.  I would look at him, take a step back, smile and say - "Oh! Really".

But anyway, a long story shortened goes like this:

We chatted, covered a lot of ground, felt our way around the relationship, and ended the conversation with a promise to do it again really soon.  Then the phone calls came.  You see my dad had married a Maori lady, Erena who he met at a Friday night dance in Auckland, NZ.  She was from the far North of NZ, from Pamapuria, just South of Kaitaia.  As it was in those days, the Maori elders were tough and he had to jump through hoops in order to marry Erena.  But now?... Now I was the proud owner of four brothers and three sisters.  It's OK!  I can hear you saying "half brothers and sisters"... but Maoris aren't like us.  Being the beautiful, family oriented people that they are, I was now the older brother of eight children; none of this half brother and sister stuff--and the phone calls affirmed that.  Instant acceptance is how I would describe it.

But didn't he cop some flack!  My mother and I were a deep dark secret that he had kept from Erena and his children.  Doug, the oldest of his children with Erena, was really upset and told him so.  He told me, when we eventually met that he was upset because he had an older brother that he could have known, but was denied the opportunity because of dad's secrecy.

Barb, the wife of his  second oldest boy from Erena, was interested in genealogy and had tried to piece some history together.  Every time she got close to the early '50's, dad turned very vague and she couldn't get a thing out of him.

But!  Learning from the various phone conversations about dad's heart condition, I figured that the sooner I actually met him the better, otherwise it may be never.  And so, because he was staying with Doug, who was living in Brisbane, I took a flight as soon as I could and met him and my new found brothers and sisters.

I found out that his youngest daughter Josephine, who had been working in a bank in Australia, had accidentally come across his brother Harold's account and address details, and because of the unusual surname, had concluded that he must be a relative and phoned him.  Well that led to Harold ringing me... and you know the rest.

I went to Brisbane, I think, three times in all and then dad was leaving NZ to come to live with Doug in Brisbane, Queensland.  The airlines wouldn't take him because of his heart condition and the need for oxygen, and so he traveled by cruise ship to Australia, with a couple of carers.  We never got to meet again, he died from a massive heart attack en route.

Anyway, here's the poem...

My Wandering Dad

I knew him not when growing up

This wandering dad of mine

My mum and dad, they parted

Their hearts were not entwined

Mum’s family were rough and strong

And soon my dad was through

He flew away to Kiwi shores

This dad I never knew

I gave him up for dead you know

After few determined tries

The Salvos, brothers, family

He just vanished in the skies

But think of this, he married

Started up another life

He met a girl named Erena

And took her as his wife

Soon the children came along

Less one they numbered seven

Life was good when growing up

The Homestead was their heaven

But through it all they never knew

About their other brother

The first one, you know how they say

My brother from another mother

But talk about good timing

And a lot of chance events

It was Jo and Uncle Harold

That began to mend the fence

The fence that cut me off there

From this wandering dad of mine

Was advice he got from elders

“Shut your first life from your mind”

So now when I just found him

He’s wandered off again

It was so short, but time well spent

A family is my gain

So sleep now dad you’ve earned it

Sleep beside your darling wife

There’s no pain where you are lying

You’re both awaiting your new life

A new life in God’s Paradise

A paradise earth sublime

You know, we say thy Kingdom come

Kingdom come!  It’s nearly time!

So though you’ve wandered off again

I know we’ll meet for sure

I’ll have lots of things to tell you

And you’ll wander off, no more

endnote -

"Salvos, brothers, family" - The Salvation Army, uncle Harold from Sydney and aunt Josie in England

"he vanished in the skies" - on a Qantas flight heading for NZ.

"minus one they numbered seven" - there were actually eight children but Sharon, the firstborn died shortly after birth.

"the homestead"  - the large family home bordering on a park with a creek running through it, is still standing in Neilds Rd, Manurewa, a Southern suburb of Auckland.

"It was Jo and Uncle Harold that began to mend the fence" - Jo's efforts in the bank and Harold calling me.

"advise he got from elders" - Maori Elders; he had to jump through hoops in order to marry Erina.
"Sleep now dad you've earned it" - according to the Bible, the wages of inherited sin from our first ancestor Adam is death - Romans 6:23
"Kingdom come it's nearly time" - the next line says "thy will be done one earth as it is in heaven"... so after the kingdom comes, then the original purpose of a paradise earth will be realised, and man's experiment with self rulership which has cause so much grief since the beginning will be over.

Ode To Emma On Her Wedding Day (Which Flower is She?)

If Emma was a flower, I wonder which she’d be.

Perhaps a shrinking violet, can you that flower now see?

It peeps out from between the leaves and some would call it shy

But Emma’s not a Violet, and here’s the reason why

It all depends upon the day upon her frame of mind

If she’s only now just met you then yes you’d think her shy

But once you get to know her, and her friends will bear me out

Think a riot of Poinsettias her colours fairly shout

But if life was just Poinsettias how tiresome that would be

We love to see her thoughtfulness as she thinks of you and me

She has a keen eye on her friends is loyal through and through

In thoughtful loving constancy like Hyacinth so blue

Now you’ve got to help me out here I’ve got something on my mind

This talk of Emma’s thoughtfulness has got to be defined

She's thoughtful with the bigger things the major things you see

Though forgetful like the Poppy to the mundane things is she

Some years ago we lost her, but love just never fails

Come back she did, we’re all so glad, saved from such sad travails

So we’re here now to applaud her, her first meal of married life

And like the fair Marjoram let an absence be from strife

However, and you will agree, it’s not just Emma’s day

Beside her sits her Joshua, she’s a Wright now not a Flay

And like a Rose that’s dark and red her love for him is true

Will get deeper with each passing year in constancy renewed

So let’s wish them every happiness from this day ever more

Like a posy of fair Baby’s Breath may their true love endure

Jehovah God will smile on them as in his worship true

Like White-Red Rose and three fold chord not quickly torn in two

Ode To Cass On Her Wedding Day

Beneath the bluff exterior there beats a heart of gold
Four hundred thirty dollars an ounce the value is I’m told
And just like gold that’s buried, but not too deeply down
defences hide that heart of gold, oft’ guarded with a frown

But those that seek for gold my friends by appearance are not fooled
Her friends? They see right past them to the qualities that rule
But I mustn’t labour long the point you’re not that dull I know
Suffice to say our darling Cass caused her dearest's heart to glow

Cass grew up a country girl with brothers three and rough
And sisters two and mum and dad and discipline was tough
Her teenage dream was marriage to a man of rural roots
In her minds eye she saw him in doeskins and high heeled boots

But life’s a strange mix-master and we’re each a different bowl
Containing the ingredients that profoundly shape our soul
So family, farm and God’s true word and hard knocks not a few
Shaped the girl that we call Cass, she turned out quite true blue

So on this most important day that she’s had since her birth
We join with Cas and Martin and celebrate their worth
Their worth to one another and the worth of their true love
And just like gold that’s highly prized their worth to God above

**endnote - Doeskins - Distinctive jeans worn by men and women in the rural community in Australia. A brushed (or not) material cream in colour

The Game

There stood out front, and boasting hard the two opposing teams

There was Gareth, Chad and Cameron with faces mighty mean

The other side was just as bold, but stood there just one man

It was Dad in business shirt and tie with basketball in hand

“Who’s to start” they argued and the choice came down to shots

“The first to get a foul line score when the other side does not”

So with that matter settled the game could now begin

The three determined shorties felt for sure that they would win

Fast and furious was the pace as each ball found the net

The rules were altered constantly and dad’s business shirt was wet

There were long shots, short shots, jumps and fades and tricky footwork too

And lots of stops for passing cars and neighbours not a few

After fifteen rugged minutes of the struggle to and fro

The boys were one point from a win and then came dad’s free throw

He took the shot from centre court just by the flower bed

The shot described a perfect arc hitting nothing but the net

So now the scores were all tied up at twenty points each team

The boys foreboding silence caused dad’s sweaty eyes to gleam

Cameron threw in from the side a tricky pass to Chad

He passed it on to Gareth but it was snatched away by dad

A short sharp dribble in the key an underarm upload

Saw the ball bounce off the board and roll on to the road

Old Mr Clancy driving by was waving as he sang

And the scores were still at twenty all when the basketball went BANG!

Insulation

A sheep in the shade does not worry

With fleece on its back there's no hurry

But shear it right off

Please believe me don't scoff

That sheep for the shade will now scurry

Writers Block

There was an old man with a bonnet

Who struggled to write his first sonnet

He had writers block

And so studied a rock

But found he could write nothing on it

On Questions of Belief

Searching, wondering, listening

To feelings deep inside

Exploring possibilities

Bad theories thrown aside

Is there a God? Did we evolve?

Is worship just a crutch?

We ponder this quite endlessly

Being cynical overmuch

Those that claim a worship true

In actions oft’ betrayed

As nothing more than hypocrites

Their piety falsely played

In times of war it’s all so clear

For - “God is on my side”

But just the same their enemy

‘Neath God’s loving hand does hide

So some say, “I’ll be an atheist,

It makes just much more sense”

Then look closely at a flower

Or the universe immense

And start to wonder yet again

Was all just happenstance?

Will we find the answer in a fix,

Or seek it in a trance?

But then, perhaps, a lucid patch

And think – “if there is God,

We can surely find his fingerprints

Or where his footsteps trod”

I once read a Bible verse

The writer made no fuss

Just simply said to grope for God

He’s not far from each of us.

His fingerprints are everywhere

His footsteps clearly seen

Look there! Just look at DNA

A blueprint in the genes

So what came first? I’m asking you

The blueprint or the cell

The truth can be quite clearly shown

I beg you, let me tell.

It's Only Time

It’s only time the young man thought

Despair tore him apart

The handcuffs ‘round his forearms

Felt like handcuffs ‘round his heart

The craving crawled all over him

But now it had to wait

The men in blue had him in hand

Threw him in and slammed the gate

He drifted back to yesteryear

A troubled youth was he

Good school, good friends, but something lost

Looking back to far to see

What went wrong, why was he here,

He knew the answer well

Preoccupied his parents were

His life a living hell

His father's life was golf, the boys,

The betting shop and beer

His mother fretted constantly

His schoolmates called him queer

So, lonely thoughts get lonelier

And a need to filled the void

He acted out in front of them

But made them more annoyed

Rebellion wouldn’t be the word

He’d use to tell the tale

That started out with smokes and dares

And stopped with him in jail

The smokes had led to alcohol

What sort he didn’t care

And that led on to other things

Hard drugs then deep despair

The only thing to do he knew

Was to higher places go

Each hit required another one

But that required more dough

But where to get that spendy stuff

That buys just one more dream

It’s only time and waiting

Breaking in where you’re not seen

He was living on the edge, you see

Quite thrilling when your there

The high he got from stealing

Merged right in his daily fare

But being sprung is scary

When the panic takes your head

Not thinking through the hit held haze

One swing and she was dead

She could have been his grandma

He just didn’t hear her come

His hand had grabbed the mantle clock

One swing and she was done

If he could hit his own thick head

Or take her place he would

The tears were running freely

As he made the call and stood

“It’s only time” he screamed inside

How he wished he wasn’t there

He held the bloodied mantle clock

Fixed in his glassy stare

Would turning back the hands of time

Another ending mean

His musings halted slowly

As then came the siren’s scream

It’s only time the old man thought

Despair still wrung his heart

He could not turn the hands of time

But today a brand new start

Psychics vs. God

Psychics, psychics, psychics, psychics, what am I saying next?

Psychics? Yes! You are quite right, only you, I’m sure, could know

But please grant me this one doubt, for a while it’s been my quest

If I asked a bunch of you, who would my future show?

But now let’s not think a year, or even six months time

Let us talk about next week or even a fortnight hence

I’ll get back to you straight up with praises quite refined

If your forecast lines with truth I’ll know it’s no pretense

You must drop the flowery speech couched in the vaguest terms

You must speak specific things that only I could know

That’s not all, please hear me out, the rules now you must learn

Not just one, but lots of you, must clear my future show

Come now, be more reasonable, why set so high the bar?

You must not expect precise results we feel that’s mean!

Hush now, you who say you know the future from afar

If you do this by the rules your merit’s clearly seen

But if you can not perform and tell it all so true

We ourselves can not be blamed for seeing through your fraud

If you’re brave, come on, let’s go, the focus is on you

What? No way? It’s not for you? Can’t say I won’t applaud

Hey! Don’t walk away in shame, there’s reason here to learn

There’s a book precisely penned that clearly shows what’s next

Showing both the near and far, don’t slight it, to it turn

Countless words of prophesy are hidden in its text

Telling both the near and far a thousand years they show

God’s word gives us such clear sight within a world so mean

Come now you, who want to learn, come read it and then know

Predictions true, the future shown, God’s glory clearly seen.

Creative Truth

“What is truth?” the young man asked and all there paid him heed
“Is your truth just the same as mine, should we make it up as need?”
“I don't care” a youth replied “I don't think it's such a sin”
“To make up truth when needed, 'specially when it saves your skin”

A silence slowly settled, and the firelight cast its glow
Eyes followed sparks ascending as if they would help them know
Another said “I feel so bad, but do it all the time.”
“I tell these little stories, it's like, I have to spin the line”

A girl said “Hey! You've got it wrong, it's not just saving you”
“I'd think about the other person, they've got feelings too”
They all just looked and nodded for this cast of different light
They pretended that they knew it and their nodding made it right

The first guy sat and thought a while and nodded slowly too
“Hold up” he said, “I'm hearing, but not agreeing through and through”
They turned and looked with eyebrows raised, and query in their eyes
“It might be good for saving skins, but in the end it's lies”

“We know, we know, you silly man!” and laughter could be heard
“But creative truth sounds better; in the end they're all just words”
“But words have power don't you think? So please don't think me slow”
“We could be parents one day teaching our kids what to know”

The conversation ebbed and flowed and lingered in the dark
Someone poked the embers sending up a shower of sparks
The thought of being parents had them thinking hard and long
Thinking of the possibility where their kids did them wrong

“My parents taught me how to lie” a pimply youth exclaimed
They looked at him and said “No way!” And in turn he now explained
“Whenever salesmen came around, dad told me 'we're not in'”
“I said just what he told me, it felt right; it came from him”

A youngish girl with long black hair who had the quietest been
Said “I lie in desperation 'cause my parents are so mean”
“When I mess up they yell at me even though it's my mistake ”
“So now I take the heat off spin creative truths and fake”

“Now politicians are so skilled saying what we want to hear”
“They've made lying such an art form those that question them are queer”
A thoughtful look was in her eyes, she said “I'm really sure”
“If love ruled every one of us then lies would be no more”

Assenting murmurs rippled, firelight flickered in their eyes
Their thoughts moved on to other things they were all through with lies
The night wore on and dawn drew near the woes of earth were solved
Their private thoughts exposed again their consciences absolved