Gabi - a Mothers Day Champion

It has been a big week for Gabi.

On Tuesday night Gabi was a participant at the Mother and Son session at her son’s school, Saint Ignatius College in Drysdale, a 20 minute drive through Geelong.

Two nights later she fronted up and was a team member at the subsequent Mother and Daughter night. At her Mother-Daughter session in 2012, Gabi had ticked a box on the evaluation form to say she would be interested being a team member at a future event.

Participants can also tick a box to say that they would like to become a member of the Time & Space Community. They receive stories about mums, dads, young people who often are going about, what the subjects consistently consider to be, their ordinary life. And then you and I, encountering their story, might contend that they are quietly being extraordinary. Another way I describe the people of these everyday stories are as ‘champions who have been spotted’. Gabi is one such champion.

If you have been to a Time & Space session you will have seen and heard from that brave group up the front... the people on the community panel. We usually have two parents and two young people sharing their insights about the questions the participants will answer in their small group session that follows. Gabi was a panellist on Thursday night.

In answer to the question... what is a special quality you see in your child? She said this about her daughter...

My daughter’s special quality would without doubt be her inner strength. Her courage and ability to overcome adversity, adapt and navigate her way through an experience of great loss in Year 8 was just remarkable and inspiring.

At the end of the evening, Gabi came up to me with a specific question. I got a chance too, to say thanks for the insights she shared and for how she impacted on the audience of mums, mentors and teenage girls.

Her daughter has completed the two Time and Space programs in sequence – The Father-Daughter in Year 7 and then the Mother-Daughter in Year 8. As a family – they have now done three of the four sessions available in the transition years of high school. As you know, Gabi and her boy did the Mother-Son this week.  

In our conversation, I shared a clear memory from the Father-Daughter night three years ago. Gabi seemed surprised but her husband stood out to me.

He explained how determined he had been not to miss the father-daughter night. He was seated, had a quiet satisfaction that he had made it. He had kind eyes. Gabi remembered and reflected...

“Oh yeah, we made a big effort to make it to that night. He made the journey down here from Melbourne.”

Often dads make big efforts to get to Time & Space events from work far away. It is humbling to witness the priority they put on being with their son or daughter.

This was different again. Gabi’s husband mustered the energy to be transported from the Royal Melbourne Hospital to be at the night with his daughter.  He had a terminal illness and passed away just a few months later.

You see Gabi’s question was opening up how we might tackle the Father-Son night for her boy next year. There is always provision for a mentor to be there if mum or dad is not around (and, as in this case, sometimes it is a sad reason). It is that care and foresight that makes Gabi a pretty obvious and ‘spot-able’ champion mum.

In saying on the panel that her daughter has inner strength – we kind of know how her girl has inherited that. Having affirmed her daughter’s quality Gabi went on to offer a message to the girls there on the night...

It also highlighted to me that our girls are strong. Without knowing the young ladies here this evening, I do know that you all have inner strength, because of the wonderful role models you have sitting beside you. I hope you always remember that.

It was evident to those of us there that we were in the presence of, to use Gabi’s words, a wonderful role-model. The principal of the school remarked to me afterwards that whilst Gabi didn’t specify the detail of her loss, a good number of the mums there would have been in the know.

That’s why I reckon Gabi’s story is a great example to share on Mother’s Day (here in Australia today). Gabi has courage. There’s selflessness in the way she first sees and acknowledges her daughter’s quality that emerged from that loss – a loss that was obviously Gabi’s as well. And then let’s regard the kindness in her forward planning to start thinking about a session for her son that will be happening in September 2015.

Let Gabi and her story represent the way mums give, the way so many mums sacrifice as a default action and the way mums are ‘extraordinary in the ordinary’.

This story is a gift for Gabi and her kids written on Mother’s Day 2014.

If you are reading this now it will be because Gabi (and the kids) said it was okay.                                                                                                                                                                               

  

Lean on Your Tribe

Consider this... a member of your family is having a stressful time with one of their kids. They approach you and ask for some help.

What would you do?

You’ve got your answer? Good. Hold that thought. See if you can find some of your own stories in what’s to follow.

With my seventeen year-old son’s permission I can share that my wife Lisa and I have not had the easiest time guiding our youngest through his adolescent years. His challenges would all be considered what you would say are some of the things a mum, dad and teenager can encounter in this time of life.  Tough but - when all is said and done – pretty normal challenges. He’s pushed boundaries, I’ve picked the wrong fights. In a few years time we’ll probably look back and laugh at how stubborn we both have been.

There are signs that we are emerging through the other side of an, at times, ugly journey. How ugly? Do you remember how Tim Robbins’ character Andy Dufresne finally escaped from Shawshank prison?

His friend Red (the Morgan Freeman character), in that timeless narration voiceover said...

“Andy crawled to freedom through five hundred yards of shit smelling foulness I can't even imagine, or maybe I just don't want to. Five hundred yards... that's the length of five football fields, just shy of half a mile.”

What do you think? Is that sewer pipe not a brilliant metaphor for parents guiding a teenager through a difficult adolescence?

We might be getting to the end of the pipe, touch wood. A few weekends ago, at 1am on a Sunday morning, I found myself sitting in my car in a suburban street performing the designated driver duties. Lisa was still awake, so she came along for the ride and made the ubiquitous phone call (we don’t knock on the door any more do we?).

A handful of young folk were starting to appear in the street.

We have a phrase for how we like to find the young bloke when he emerges from a party – in good order. This morning he was in good order. He appeared with a mate and his girlfriend. Jack asks if we can give his friends a lift back home. As we drive off, the banter starts. The young lady is very chatty and I can’t remember what I said but she remarked to Jack that he had the coolest parents ever. We had to laugh. This would not be Jack’s usual opinion (well certainly not the way he sees his dad). We’ve laughed again today – enjoying some opportunities to say to Jack that we are really happy with how he’s going at the moment... in Year 12, chipping away at the homework and balancing the social life with his biggest year at school yet.

Half way through last year we certainly felt stuck somewhere in the middle of that metaphoric pipe.

It seemed like every week we were hitting problems. Boundary crossed. Consequence. Another boundary crossed – another tougher consequence. From both sides, it felt like all we were doing was upping the ante. I started to feel bereft and said to Lisa... “Do you feel like we are running out of ideas?” Lisa agreed. There will be parents now reading this who know that feeling.

As that feeling of helplessness began to overwhelm, one idea made a welcome visit.

I remembered that Jack was pushing boundaries in a way that my youngest brother Greg had done when he was growing up. I left home just before his teenage years... travelled around the country and the world. So we came in and out of each others lives. I do remember though that he gave mum and dad a bit of heartache. Being eleven years older than Greg, I have always looked at him as my little brother. He had got married the year before and was about three weeks away from becoming a dad. I shared with Lisa the idea... to ask Greg to possibly help us with Jack – could he come and simply have a chat with him.

I called Greg, it was the weekend, could he spare some time – because of what I remember he was like as a teenager – to come and have a chat with Jack some time soon. Greg lives on the other side of town.

Do you know what happened? Greg was at our door within half an hour. He took Jack out for lunch. Yum Cha in fact (which I remarked to Lisa was a pretty mixed up consequence – but he was Greg’s project now). Greg visited the next weekend and this time was equipped with some goal setting materials he had been given in a course he had done at work. He invited Jack to work through the process with him... each of them working on their own goals but at the same time, together, so that they could encourage each other. I can’t recall how many times Jack has been lectured by yours truly about the need to have goals. Of course that message is going to be better received by Jack’s much cooler, younger uncle than the broken record messages of his old man.

We had a family birthday gathering a few weeks ago, just before Jack started his last year of high school. Greg presented him with a letter. I don’t know what was in it but Jack, as you’ve been informed has made a brilliant start to the year.

It had never occurred to me until then to ask someone for help. In fact, the realisation came that this was the first time I had asked Greg for something that in anyway credited him as being an adult. My ‘little’ brother has been an adult for at least 18 years now. In the middle of a very busy, exciting time in his life (he now has a baby son, Isaac) Greg responded to a request from his brother to help his nephew.

What did you say in answer to that question at the start of this story... if a member of your family or a close friend asked you for help, what would you say? My guess is that most of us would respond like my brother did.

Why is it that I only thought to ask Greg for help when he was what felt like the last idea left?

We live in a world where we often feel we’ve got to solve stuff ourselves. If Greg needs a chop out with Isaac in 15 years or so, I’m there. Or, maybe better still, his big cousin Jack will step in.

What’s the big take away from this story? When you are doing it tough with your teenager... indeed when you encounter any challenge raising your kids... Lean on Your Tribe.

They are waiting to be asked.

You’d help them in similar circumstances wouldn’t you? Yes?

Then ask. 


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Thanks for reading. As always feel free to write a comment in the space below. There are a few ways you can comment - if you choose anonymous, it is always appreciated when you put your name next to what you say.

Treasured Moments

This year it finally happened. The threat had loomed for a while but when the time came, it kept coming. He proved the next two times we played, that his victory wasn’t a fluke. 

For about four years now, my 17-year-old son and I have had a regular hit of squash up at our local RSL gymnasium. Up until this year, my title was unchallenged. I’m a bit old school when it comes to the debate about whether you play full tilt or let your kids have a chance against you in competitive games. Especially with our squash games, I have always shown no mercy. And when his turn came, neither did he.

You wouldn’t have seen it on the back page of your newspaper and it wasn’t the lead story in Sport on the evening news but, in June this year, whilst still 16 years old, Jack beat me 3-2 in a fiercely contested game of squash. He lead 2-0 and I clawed back thinking, “I’ve got him” and then, the rest is history - he allowed me only two points as he finished his dad off in the fifth game. I thought, “Right... next time, I’ll get him back”.

Well, next time, he beat me 4-1 and then for good measure, he got the same score the time after that. There was a definite pattern emerging in the way our games were going.

You hear about how the lion packs in the African Savannah working out who is the boss lion... the old lion often sees off some early challenges but eventually the young lion wins a fight and becomes king of the pride. During that first loss, whilst scrambling to try and maintain my title, I could see that he was bringing a new strength and pace to the game that I couldn’t match. Promise you, the fight went to the last point but when he won, a wave of pride washed over. He had done it... gone past his old man.

This was a treasured moment.

Everyday life goes on. Then something happens that marks a moment in time. Our kids have got to a new stage.

These moments don’t have to be contests. It can be a moment you become aware of sometime after a new change has occurred. My oldest Amber provided one of these moments this year, along with my mum. 

Amber actually stopped being a teenager this year (by virtue of turning 20). Life is flowing for her: just finished second year university; she’s recently done some house-sitting for friends; she has got herself a great steady part-time job and now, is driving her own car. She has been forging her own independence.

Somewhere along the way, I heard my mum start a sentence that will probably read as fairly ordinary to you. Mum and dad are still in the same house I grew up in. We are now on the other side of town.

Mum started “When Amber popped in again the other day...” Like I said, this would seem somewhat innocuous to you but as Amber’s dad, me and her mum have always driven her over to see my mum and dad. Now she was popping in, of her own accord, after uni. When she house-sat, she was closer to her grandparent’s house than to ours. Mum explained that Amber had been coming to visit just to say hello. Over the visits, an idea Amber has for a family film project grew. Amber is lucky enough to have a memory of mum’s parents - her great grandparents. My grandpa died in 2002 when Amber was nine. She remembers this kind old man who had lived a tough life. Grandpa grew up in the Depression. He was orphaned and built a life with his own family from this starting point of adversity. Amber is fascinated by her great grandfather’s story. She has developed a passion for documentary making at university. At a recent family gathering she asked everyone to be ready to share their memories of grandpa sometime soon on camera.

Mum told me that she had shared things with Amber that she can’t recall telling me or my brothers or sister. Mum said it was easier to talk about when she was growing up to her grand-daughter.

My daughter who it seems, just a second ago was a little baby I could hold in one arm... now has her own adult connection with my mum. It is their relationship. Amber’s got her own independent, creative ideas. Of course she has. It might read as obvious but when mum said, “When Amber popped over again the other day...” the sense of another wave of pride washed over. A treasured moment had visited again.

Almost invisibly, another stage in your child’s life is progressing to a point where some time soon, you’ll be right in the middle of a treasured moment. You’ll feel it right there and then – perhaps being delightfully confronted by the realisation that they have gone past you, like the young bloke did destroying me on the local squash courts. Maybe you’ll become aware sometime after the event - like I did with Amber – realising, “wow she seriously is a young adult now... she has an impressive generous imagination... she has her own family connections that she can pursue.

Sure, we drive each other crazy. We get things wrong a lot of the time with our kids. But hey, our kids surprise us. They can delight us with a treasured moment that says, they are on the way to being their own person, a young adult.

Tip

This story is posted on the last day of 2013. This is a good time to look back and wonder... where were those treasured moments for you as a parent, as a mentor to a young person? Give yourself a bit of Time & Space to wonder at the magic of your kids growing up.

 Bill Jennings
www.time-space.com.au

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Thanks for reading this year. As always feel free to write a comment in the space below. There are a few ways you can comment - if you choose anonymous, it is always appreciated when you put your name next to what you say. Have a grouse 2014.

Post-Modern Perspectives

Two thought provoking articles, published within the last week are worth bringing together for a comment from this blog.

In today's Age Sarah MacDonald mentions the popular show The Voice in passing reference to the reality that a lot more families now, are probably eating on the couch in front of the TV. The reason that is significant is that The Voice is the focus of the other article by Wendy Squires that appeared in the same paper this weekend past.

So, let's start with eating together at the table. Last night I presented, at what would be dinner time, nine things I know to be true at a presentation called How to Stay in Touch on the Adolescent Roller Coaster. I have always wanted to say "eat at the table together" in my presentations... but really, in practice, if your house is like mine, it is pretty difficult to achieve that on even one night of the week. MacDonald's article is liberating because I acutely feel that guilty should of eating at the table as a family more often than we do. The article is also confronting because she pulls no punches in asserting that "the family dinner is an archaic ritual that's almost dead and buried". I'm not sure I want that to be true (and, in fact she says that too later in her discussion). The reality is that most weeks we just don't make it to the dinner table... Lisa and Amber have their fitness classes, I could be off doing a Time & Space program and the young bloke has soccer training on Tuesdays and Thursdays. This Friday night, Lisa gets her weekly night of curling up on the couch with a book, as the remainder of our mob, traipse to the MCG to (hopefully) see the Bombers fix up Carlton.

When I got home from the presentation last night, there was no tea left (in an earlier version of this post I overlooked mentioning that Lisa sorted out a quick home made pizza! Oversight now corrected!) The young fella, who had gone to bed, had scoffed the last of the cannelloni. Lisa had been hoping there would be some left for her lunch at work today, let alone my dinner. My daughter's boyfriend was over. They were watching Game of Thrones (no spoilers - promise). I asked how everyone's night had been and what they had been up to.

Lisa explained that everyone was in the lounge room at the same time when The Voice was on.  Whilst I wasn't there for last night's episode, I could immediately picture the other four and what they probably were doing. We all talk over each other. We all shhhhooosh each other. We take on our roles, our commentating perspective. The young bloke likes to sit on the couch and kind of bag it... the over-the-topness of Seal. We laugh at how how Ricky keeps saying, consolingly, to every departing contestant that "you already have a career" - surely Ricky, the music industry is going to be pretty crowded if all of them make it! The Voice equals fun times for us as a family.

At a deeper level, Wendy Squires makes an excellent observation about The Voice as representative of another modern evolution... we are seeing more and more fellas, expressing their feelings. Gender studies have a name for this - expanded masculinity. What defined a boy or a man is definitely far less narrow than back in the day.

A final take is that my colleague Michael Grose talks about 'down-time' or 'mooch-time'. This is that slouching on the couch time. I reckon it pretty vital for families who are on the go at 21st Century pace.
Whilst we mightn't get to a shared meal at an actual table as often as we feel we should, there is value in making sure that we get enough along-side, hanging out time with each other where nothing much is happening.

So have a read. These are thought provoking commentaries.  Are you shocked that I have outed my mob as having dinner table deficit disorder? Do you have TV time where the heckling drowns out what is beaming in to your living room? What are the things that truly help your tribe to stay connected? What do you think about what  Sarah MacDonald and Wendy Squires have to say?

As always, feel free to join in the discussion in the comment box below (you can actually just select 'anonymous' if you don't have a Google Account and if you are comfortable, it is always nice to see your name next to your comment). 

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Here is the Sarah MacDonald family dinner article.

Here is Wendy Squires' article about The Voice

A Father’s Gift

Arthur is putting in the last couple of rows of chairs for a parent information night.

I like to get to my presentations early and often, I bump into someone like Arthur, the maintenance man at a boys’ school where I run the Time & Space programs. I wander in with 216 sheets of paper under my arm.

“What can I do for you mate?” asks Arthur.

Arthur has got that friendly mix – he greets this new person whilst he is also busy, doing his job (and proudly, I might add).

“I’m here to talk with the parents tonight.” I explain. “My name’s Bill, by the way.”

“No worries, I’m Arthur, good to meet you Bill. So what’s written on those papers?” he asks.

I reply, “I’ve just run a session with the whole Year 9 level and each boy was challenged to write to their dad (or mentor) a ‘thankyou’ note and then to give it to him when they next see him.”

Arthur has finished now and the room looks great. He’s curious and asks another question.

“Do you reckon that what the kids write, sticks? Or do they just think it in the session and then forget what they’ve written later?”

“I reckon that the kids who actually hand the note over are saying something. You know, we encourage them to hand the note to their dad... but we don’t actually make them do it.”

“Yeah – I just wonder,” muses Arthur, “I reckon some kids have got too much these days. My kids sometimes were disappointed when they saw their friends being given things... because I told them I’d never buy them a car. That’s something they’d have to earn.”

Arthur is starting to tell his remarkable story and in that sharing what he values.

He continues, “there are some things, I’m only too happy to give them. I’m past 65 now and should be retired. My youngest is 16, still in school and looks like she’ll being going through Uni. I might be working for a while yet.”

“How many kids Arthur?” I ask.

“Three... the oldest boy went here. He’s 27. The middle one’s – she’s 23, and the little one.”

“How have they gone?”

“They’ve done good,” a proud half-smile curls from the corner of Arthur’s mouth, “the oldest one has a double degree in Management and Engineering. The middle one has a Masters in Dietetics.” He goes on to say, “I’ve told them - I’ll look after their education. I want them to have what I never got.”

Arthur left school at 13. He explains to me that education is not the only thing he’s missed out on.

“As soon as I was born, my dad took off. I never met him. So I’ve had no role-model to work off,” Arthur explains. “Until I was 7 or 8 I lived in an orphanage in Bendigo because my mum couldn’t cope with me and my older brother on her own. Then later we moved back to live with her in St. Kilda where, it was pretty rough and ready and I kind of...”, Arthur pauses for a moment and looks at me, “well you kinda learnt to protect yerself, you know what I mean?”

In the midst of this extraordinary conversation, a couple of times I hear Arthur say things about himself as a person and specifically, himself as a dad like, “look I’m not perfect” and “I’m no angel.”

It is pleasing to let him know that a big theme in this Time & Space work is to reassure mums and dads that no parent is perfect,

“I reckon it’s all about ‘turning up’ Arthur and supporting our kids... you have done that in spades and, you’ve come from a lot further back than most. You know Arthur, I reckon if your kids had the chance to do the ‘thankyou’ activity the boys did today, you would have heard how grateful they are for your gift of education.”

“They’ve done that, in not so many words,” Arthur replies, “them doing well is thanks enough for me.”

As he speaks I am reminded of the pivotal message that Steve Biddulph penned in his best-seller, Manhood – an action plan for changing men’s lives.

Every father, however much he puts on a critical or indifferent exterior, will spend his life waiting at some deep level to know that his (children) love him and respect him. Make sure you absorb this point. He will spend his life waiting.

As I’m remembering that, Arthur is still thinking about my question about his kids ‘saying thanks’ and a special recent memory has sparked.

“There was this one time last year with the youngest one, she’s a bewdy... I reckon she’s got the best of me as a dad. You know, you sometimes work it out a bit better when they come around for the third time...”

I nod. I reckon he’s right.

“My brother-in-law turned 70. He’s up in Queensland. I couldn’t go up for the party but the young one travelled up with my wife” there’s a full smile on Arthur’s face now... “I went to ring my brother-in-law up to say ‘happy birthday’, his daughter was going to get him and I hear my young one in the background, say ‘I want to talk to dad’, and she jumped on the phone...”

Arthur’s voice quavers a bit now... and as he continues, his eyes well up.

“She just got on the phone, and straight away said, ‘I miss you dad!’”

He looks me straight in the eye saying, “That really got me.”

Arthur never knew his dad. If your dad is around this Father’s day, let him know, with your words, what you are thankful to him about. It will mean a bit more than the traditional pairs of socks and jocks!

Arthur’s young daughter’s spontaneous message on the phone showed that you don’t have to do much, to make even a lifetime’s effort, like her dad Arthur trying to be the best dad he can be, seem all worthwhile.

To all the dads reading this, Happy Fathers Day.
Bill Jennings
www.time-space.com.au

An Unexpected Conversation

"Mind if I play with you guys?"

"No worries," I say, shaking hands with the man in the sunglasses, "My name's Bill and this is my son Jack."

"I'm Andrew.”

We are on the first tee of a brilliant little nine-hole course nestled into the foreshore of Apollo Bay, our annual summer holiday spot. One of the beaut’ things about golf... total strangers can walk up and ask 'can I join up with you?' I like it that my 15-year-old has played the game enough to know that this is part of the etiquette.

So we all hit off and so does our conversation – no small talk on the first hole!

"What do you do for a crust Bill?"

I explain the Time & Space programs.

"Right - have you come across any situations where kids have suicided?"

I reply, "Oh, the parent-child programs aren't necessarily for kids who are in trouble. It is for any young person really and their parents."

Andrew explains, "It's just that the boy who was captain of our primary school, a few years ago... just took his life. Real shock to our staff."

"That's awful," I say, fairly amazed at how deep the topic of conversation is for a couple of blokes who have just met... "So you're a teacher Andrew?"

"Yep. Love it - the classroom for the first 18 years. PE specialist for the last twelve."

Andrew is a really good fella... I can tell.

"Gee Andrew - any reason, the boy... why he took his life?" I ask.

"No clue whatsoever," Andrew answers, "it is a complete mystery. We were reeling as a staff at the end of the year when it happened. Such a great kid."

I'm conscious as we talk, my son is quietly taking all of this in.

We tee off on the second.

"Have you got kids Andrew?" I ask.

"Daughter’s the oldest and two sons... 23, 22 and 19 years old," Andrew then pauses... "Yep, they're all doing their thing." There’s a satisfied tone indicating they’re all going well.

Third hole and Andrew asks Jack if he plays sport.

"Yeah soccer," offers the young bloke, "I'm a goalkeeper."

There was genuine interest on Andrew’s part.

We are covering a breadth of topics on every hole. Andrew explains about his oldest two who were heading overseas together. He was really proud of their get up and go.

"They’re not really sure what they want to do career-wise but they've worked hard, saved to make this trip happen."

We talked and enjoyed our golf. We all had a few good hits. Andrew actually chipped in for birdie on the Eighth.

As Jack chipped to the green, I thought back to what Andrew said before… "I liked how you said that all your kids are each doing their thing."

"Yeah, great kids. The youngest one has had his challenges. My nineteen-year-old Brett," Andrew pauses, takes off his sunglasses, "is gay."

Even though we'd only known each other for eight holes of golf, the chats we’d had till then seemed to allow the space for such a personal detail to be shared. What a privilege to be trusted.

"Wow... when did you find out?" I ask.

"He came out when he was sixteen," answered Andrew, "I'll admit it, I cried for about 24 hours but came good after that. The way I see it, my son showed great courage."

Jack has putted, joins us and he picks up the thread of Andrew's story.

Andrew continued, "I asked my son, I said, 'I've only got one question... did you become gay or were you born gay?"

"He told me 'I always thought I was gay dad.'"

It's clear that Andrew admired and supported his son. He learnt that a lot of dads 'go crook' and even worse, sometimes physically abuse their sons if they come out... kick them out of home and never want to see them again.

We are on the last tee now and Andrew remarks, "How do those dads come back from that?" he is perplexed as he says, "I mean someone you love has just come out... that is showing the utmost courage. I said to Brett, who’s highly respected by his peers, 'mate you've just shown the way and made stuff so much easier for other kids.’"

Jack then pipes up... "Yeah, one of the kids at my school came out... on You Tube* actually... you know what was really good about it? No-one gave him any crap."

"I'm pleased to hear it," said Andrew.

We finished our round, shook hands and said goodbye. The three of us had had a pretty extraordinary conversation.

Later in the day, Jack remarked, "Dad, that Andrew, he’s a good bloke."

I agreed.

Thanks for reading and as always, you are welcome to share your responses, your stories in the space below (even if you don't have a Google account, you can log on as anonymous but it would be great if you wrote your name).

http://www.time-space.com.au/

* I looked up the clip when writing this article and discovered it was part of a global campaign by many people called ‘It Gets Better’. It includes this video contribution from US President Barack Obama.





And importantly if for any reason you need to talk to someone – you can call…
Lifeline: 13 11 14 Kids Helpline (for young people aged 5 to 25 years): 1800 551 800 Mensline Australia: 1300 789 978 SANE Helpline - mental illness, support and referral: 1800 18 SANE (7263) Reach Out: http://www.reachout.com/

Father Bob & the 'YB' have Entered the Building

"So... do you want me to come in with you?" I ask.

The young bloke (aka YB), our #2 child, and #1 son, and I sit this morning in the car park of his new senior high school. He is starting in Year 10 today.

There is a typical pause. It could be his own considered thinking which has always been fairly deliberate or the combination of 15 year-old vagueness mixed with the general vague state he has inherited from his dad.

There is still more think time. Then...

"Nah, I'll be right."

More silence and we sit there looking at the school building.

"So what happens now... I just go to Reception?", YB asks.

"Yeah, I think there will be people there waiting for you like they did on your orientation day, giving out timetables and showing you where to put your stuff."

"OK, see ya dad." A considered handshake is exchanged. I let him know that I am proud to be his dad and he waves without looking back as he takes a heavy, first-day-bag into his new school. The earliest year level at this senior high is his year, so he is starting on an even footing with all the other kids. I sit here wondering how he is going. A lot of people are having first days this week...

Father Bob Maguire had his first full day at his new address yesterday after 38 years at his old one. For the benefit of those in Australia who live in a media black-out, and readers overseas, here is what happened at his last Sunday morning mass as Parish Priest at St Peter and St Paul's in South Melbourne this past weekend.



Father Bob at 77, 'orthodox but unconventional' as he likes to describe himself, has moved on from his parish... the base from which he carried out many services, not just as a traditional parish priest but as the leader of an army of volunteers who serve people who have fallen on hard times. The disenfranchised, the homeless, the prostitutes, the mentally ill, the elderly and disadvantaged young people of South Melbourne, Port Melbourne and St Kilda, rely on the practical outreach of The Father Bob Maguire Foundation. Many of you will know that the controversy of his move, stems from the wish that he did not want to leave his home, his base from which he was able to exercise his ministry. Bob's parish gave him identity. Being a parish priest enabled him to have some handle, a good kind of authority that auspiced his public role and outreach.

Where the hypocrisy of attention by the hierarchy, on Bob's forced retirement, has been widely reported, I have watched from a perspective of concerned comrade, with an awareness that for Bob, he was being symbolically and perhaps psychologically orphaned by his current day 'family', the institutional church - something that had happened to him as a kid. F-Bob's (as this comrade calls him) dad and mum passed away when he was 12 and 13. He fended forward with the help of his older brother and friends and that tough, unconventional perspective must have been formed in that adversity. An endearing resilience that has shown in the last couple of years may well have been borne in those days when a young teenager had to use his wits to make his way in the world, without the security of even one parent being around.

Change is tough and in the lead up to the young bloke's first day at a new school, there's been a bit of moodiness. Unlike Father Bob, he chose to move to a new place. We asked him to have a think about what was the right place for him. He liked his old school (and so did his mum and me) but he felt, on balance the new place offers a number of good opportunities. That doesn't mean the decision wasn’t tough. It doesn't mean his imperfect dad hasn't had a few flare ups as the young bloke has dealt with the decision to change in the last couple of months. We could be in the middle of a heated argument and then I'm struck by the notion - 'he's worried about the move'. Similarly, I heard Father Bob interviewed on the ABC Conversation Hour before Christmas. The anger, near bitterness, that was in his voice was palpable. It was raw and tough to listen to. Other friends' heard it and we shared similar reflections. That's the key though, people have responded and shown their care. Bob has rawly expressed his feelings, his 'truth' throughout, and on Sunday over 1000 people turned up and showed support. They are part of the big family that F-Bob’s unique perspective on life, has brought together. I reckon his own kindness, heart for the underdog, has come back at him in spades. Good people have fuelled his resilience to move on to the next chapter.

I'm mindful, as dad to my daughter and son... that they gain fuel for accepting change through life as people who love them, and care about what happens to them, wish them well as they take on the next challenge - some harder than others. We can't take away the challenges they face but we can turn up in their lives - especially at the important moments.

At his final mass on Sunday, the shift was palpable in Father Bob - he had accepted the change, and was moving on. The service had a bit of everything... Bob's irreverent humour, a beautiful song by war victim and refugee, Emmanuel Kelly - an inspiring young man, a Scottish bagpipe band that led Bob out after the final song 'Glory, Glory Hallelujah' that contains the words... 'the truth goes marching on'.

And what is that 'truth' for this story? Change, difficult shifts, will always happen to us. They will always happen to the people we care about. When they enter their new buildings like Father Bob and the young bloke have this week... that's when they need us to be there for them.

Who has been there for you in a moment of change? Who are you looking after right now? As always, feel free to write your own thoughts below. Thanks for reading.


Bill Jennings
www.time-space.com.au

The First Pill

If you don't come from Brisbane, how often do you look up the BOM website to get a weather forecast? For this blogger it is at least once a year and a comforting traditional prediction is there for today... showers and thundery rain. Huey has not disappointed. Mother Nature's roulette wheel is spun around this time of the year, every year on the first day of the Brisbane Test.

If you are not a cricket fan, please endure this indulgence (the point is expanded soon). This day has memories flooding back through 40+ years of trying to find a way to see or at least hear live, the first ball of the First Test match of the Australian cricket season. Today's first ball of the first day of the First Test (affectionately dubbed the first pill by cricket tragics) happens to coincide this year with the first official day of summer.

I've got memories down through the years of the long summer days watching a Test up at my grandparents' house where they had an orchard in the Yarra Valley. All of the cousins had their special time to stay at Grandma and Grandpa's place. Mine was the long school holidays for two weeks some time in December or January. Back then, cricket was on ABC TV and there was only a budget for one straight-on camera down the pitch. So you saw the batman face-on one over and then the next over was from behind the wicket, so you would see the bowler coming in and the batsman's back. The first day of a season was often when we were still in school. One year the first pill happened at recess and the radio broadcast was piped out onto our playground on the loud speaker. I think by lunchtime Australia was nearly all out and Rodney Hogg (a fast bowler, not a recognised batsman) was our top scorer with 36 runs. As a teacher for 20 or so years, if the timetable had me scheduled for class when the first ball was bowled, my kids would see me frantically enter the room with a coat hanger. Shoved into the back of the telly that coat hanger became a makeshift aerial and together we'd watch a grainy picture of another opening to the international cricket season.

So, thanks for hanging in there - my expanded point is? Well, here's some questions for you. Think of the patterns in your year. What are the things that punctuate your year, that when they happen, great memories burst open? Is it the Myer Christmas windows? Is it an annual holiday place that even when you say its name quietly to yourself, you are taken back there?

At the heart of this, is that intangible feeling of warmth and security. I don't take it for granted. I can see a little kid sitting on a wooden bench seat in the old Southern Stand at the MCG for the Ashes Boxing Day Test of 1974. I was really grown up - seven years old (and like, nearly eight) there next to my dad. I don't even have to close my eyes to transport back to that time. What memories do you have from your childhood days that make you feel warm? Dad took me to my first day at the cricket and a life time obsession with today was born, of wanting to see the first pill flung in anger for the long summer ahead.

You're a young person reading this? Can you guess what special things you do right now, every year, that will be the memories that make you smile when you are forty, fifty or ninety-seven years old?

People who layer our memory, with good experiences, are giving us a gift that may help us to feel secure for perhaps even, a lifetime. We can give back by doing that for our kids now and in the future. At 11am today, Melbourne time, guess what I'll be doing?

What are the memories that make you feel warm when those times and places come back around? Who made them happen for you? What are the funny little details you remember?

Feel free to share your own thoughts and memories in the space below.

Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au/

The Things We Can Control

It is now ten years and two months since September 11 2001. As a global community we felt helpless for a while. In the last post, I described a paralysis of fear that struck me. A distinct moment snapped me out of that feeling and I promised more details...

I wasn't directly affected by the terrorist attacks on the USA but I do recall feeling real fear. Irrational evaluations of risk became part of my decision making. My team, Essendon were playing off against Brisbane on the last day in September at the MCG. Should I take my kids to the AFL Grand Final? Will the terrorists strike there next? Images flashed through my mind, of jumbo jets ploughing into the Great Southern Stand.

Such thoughts were real to me... thoughts I felt a bit embarrassed about, so I was reluctant to share them. Since then, I've discovered that many others felt the same way. For a period of time, I reckon a huge proportion of humanity felt lonely in the midst of unspoken fear.

On the first day of fourth term, 2001, my daughter was in Grade 2, eight years old and loving life. Heidi, the school receptionist called me at work to say that Amber had had an accident during sport. She had been looking the other way, turned for a moment and as she turned back her forehead crashed, at running pace, into a thick, hard steel basketball pole.

"We've called the ambulance Bill... I think she's OK... how quickly can you get over here?"

It took a quarter of an hour to get to Amber's school, to only discover that the ambulance had just left. Not sure what the statute of limitations is on minor offences but I must confess to driving pretty quickly for another fifteen minutes on to the hospital. So fast that I actually caught up to the ambulance and arrived to see my daughter as the doors opened out. She was in a bad way and we learnt a new word that day Cephalohematoma. A huge swelling, like a big bag of fluid, had bulged out on Amber's forehead. It was scary. Those 30 minutes of driving were intensely frightening. On reflection the fear was because of the unknown.

A few minutes later in the emergency room, Amber said "I'm scared daddy, please hold my hand".


"Of course sweetheart". She gripped tight.

Amber was physically sick a few times as we waited for the specialist. The doctor finally arrived on a day when minutes felt like hours. He calmly said that things actually looked much worse than they really were. She was going to be groggy and nauseous for a day or two yet but so importantly, she was going to be OK. Ten years on, Amber is 18 and sitting her VCE exams.

There is still a little trophy bump on her forehead. When she asked me to hold her hand, I wasn't frightened about all the bad things that had happened in the world, any more.

There was a footy coach in that time who had a favourite saying that now has become sporting cliché... "we only worry about the things we can control". That was hard to do, post-September 11. Holding Amber's hand was something within my sphere of control... I could help her when she was frightened.

I often wonder now, when we are frightened in some way, if the best way out is borne in the effort to help another. All the best with your exams Amber. It is so special that you are able to do them.

Feel free to write your thoughts and responses in the space below.

The Tenth Anniversary of September 12

Today's post is released on the tenth anniversary of many of us going to work or turning up at school, the morning after the night before. The terrorist attacks in the USA of Tuesday morning September 11, 2001 were beamed into Australia in the evening. Here in Melbourne we are fourteen hours ahead of New York.

On that frightening night, because of where we live in the world, Lisa and I had some hours to work out how we would give our daughter (then eight) and son (five) the terrible news. What were we going to say the next morning? Many who read this blog may well have had the same challenge. Some of the young people who read this, only know the world as 'post-September 11'.

What did you say to your kids?

How was it explained to you?

We knew our daughter had a classmate, a Moslem girl. We wanted to prepare her in case there was unkindness directed at her friend. News was already emerging about a group called Al Qaeda.

So on the morning of September 12, our kids woke up to a world that had changed. We elected to be very general with the young fella - he had not started school at that time. For our eight year old girl, we offered what we knew at that point.

1. A very bad thing had happened to some people in America and many people had died.
2. The people who did it might be the same religion as her friend but that didn't mean that her friend's religion or her family were bad. Some people from all walks of life do bad things but most people try to be good.

I remember going to work and feeling as if, in a fog. The World Trade Centre renown as a 'global' workplace, hit home. We became aware that a colleague's brother-in-law was among the missing. He was never found.

What was to happen next? The uncertainty was so frightening. In fact, I had never felt so frightenend and I was 34. That fear permeated for a few more weeks, I did snap out of it, on the first day of Term 4. (I'll let you know how that happened in another post.)

If I was that frightened, it prompts a wondering about what the world has been like to live in, for our kids, these last ten years.

One year later in September 2002 the transcripts and recordings of the last phone messages of those trapped in the buildings were coming to light. At the time a dear friend was getting married. The celebrant noted that the messages had a commonality - all were expressions of love, nothing trivial and certainly nothing about tax returns or what furniture to buy next. Many people in the buildings left messages aware that they might be speaking their last words to the people they were calling.

In our private moments of sadness, what is truly important, becomes obvious. If anything good can come from this tragedy, it is that we all had the opportunity to stop, to consider what is truly important.

On this anniversary of 'the first day after' let your important people know what they mean to you. And if they are nearby give them a hug.

Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au/

Census Night - counting the unpaid hours

It is Census night in Australia. Much has changed over the years and perhaps, many things have stayed the same. Families come in all shapes and sizes in 2011. So for that reason and because of a specific experience earlier this year, I found Question 48 on the 'Household Form', to be of particular interest...

In the last week, did the person spend time doing unpaid domestic work in their household?

[ ] No, did not do any unpaid domestic work in the last week
[ ] Yes, less than five hours
[ ] Yes, 5 to 14 hours.
[ ] Yes, 15 to 29 hours
[ ] Yes, 30 hours or more

Census night gives the perfect opportunity to make good on a promise to 'Jacqui' who, earlier this year, wrote a request in the comments section of Always Check Pockets. The blog that day included an instructional video from 'The Mighty Lisa' recorded for my benefit (in fact you see that video being used in the video below). Embarrassingly, your blogger had not learnt how to use the front loader, a washing machine that had been in the household almost a year. Lisa was heading overseas with four girlfriends on the trip of a lifetime to Europe.

Well Jacqui, the systems you can see I adopted were not as smooth as those of 'The Mighty Lisa'. In all seriousness, the seven weeks Lisa was away brought home to me all of the invisible work that she does. I say invisible, because the laundry never looked like this...



If the census was happening back in that seven week period, when I was a temporary single dad, I would have comfortably ticked the '15 to 29 hours' box. Tonight, I'll have to go through the past week and calculate. The reality is that with us back as a two parent set up, 'The Mighty Lisa' has racked up more hours than me. For sure. The statistics say that this is still the norm in most 'mum-dad' households. Simply, most mums do more. What I do know is that because of that seven week experience, we are getting closer to a balance, the work is appreciated and no longer invisible. I commend an experience like this to any dad... maybe the government could arrange to give all mums a holiday to bring home this reality!

Of course, as stated, families come in all shapes and sizes and in May this year, your blogger was chatting to Penny, at a Mother and Son night. Penny is a teacher with a year level leadership role. She kindly came along to assist at this Time & Space event at her school. It was in the time that I was a temporary single dad (my own dad was looking after my kids). Penny is a permanent single mum. She explained how she had dropped off her child at her mum and dad's place, a back up she explained she couldn't do without in her busy job. It was humbling as we swapped notes... a temporary single dad chatting with a full-time single mum.

Penny remarked, "When you're a single parent, there's no role-reversal... you have to do it all. It's me who goes out to the back yard to shovel up the dog poo!"

So as you are filling out your form tonight, think about all the people who are bringing up kids in lots of different situations. People doing what they have to do to help the next generation.

Respect goes out to all of you who do unpaid domestic work.

Whose work do you appreciate? Do you need to lift your own work rate? Who is someone you admire who is juggling heaps of roles and getting on with it?

Feel free to write your thoughts in the space below.

Bill Jennings

http://www.time-space.com.au/
http://www.billjennings.tv/

Eighteen Quick Years

A momentous day in this household. Started this post at 5.37am and your blogger had been up for a while even then, searching through and finding some old, packed away journals.

Found what I was looking for... a record of my daughter Amber's arrival on the planet eighteen years ago today... 8.47am on 15 June 1993, the Countess Hospital, Chester, UK.

The journal entries give a minute by minute account of the details of Amber's very dramatic entry into the world. Her mum and dad, as first time parents had it all planned. Water birth. Minimal intervention. All this went out the window when the baby chose 'sideways' as her pathway into the outside world.

Looking through the journal - it has a list of times and factual records. I gave Amber her first bath sometime between 10.00am and 1.00pm. I washed her mother's hair. I remember ringing home to Australia and my Great Great Auntie Flo' was staying with my mum and dad... Amber's birth had created five living generations in our tribe.

Between then and now - time has flown. Here's some of the memories that have flashed up in my mind today (with the birthday girl's, in fact birthday woman's permission).

1995 - We had been back in Melbourne over a year. Renting in Richmond, no car. I used to ride Amber to crèche in a baby seat on the back of my bike. Down Lennox Street to Collingwood where I worked. There was a park in front of the high rise flats, always blanketed with seagulls... 'Birdy, Birdy, Birdy' was the daily shout of delight from the little girl on the back of the bike. And dad would join in.

Then there was the day, as a toddler on my hip in the supermarket queue, when Amber showed her zest for learning. The Mighty Lisa and me had thought it important to teach Amber the proper names for the human reproductive parts. The queue was long. Amber looked down the line and saw a man, a woman, a man, two women and a man, in front of us. Leaning out from your blogger's hip and pointing in a confident fashion she tested her biological knowledge... in Safeway... in full voice.

"PENIS, VAGINA, PENIS, VAGINA, VAGINA, PENIS and daddy then there's you and you have a PENIS!" Triumphantly she smiled and stretched out her arms, having proudly declared her knowledge to the world.

Great parenting idea we had there. There was simply nowhere to hide. Thankfully the people of the queue found it hilarious.

Saturday 18 September, 1999 - MCG. Preliminary Final Day. A bloke named Anthony Koutoufides put in an individual performance that was to steal our beloved team's destiny. Amber, six years old, was asleep on my lap from late in the third quarter... hard to argue against Amber being the most relaxed bomber fan out of the 80,519 people there that day. She woke up just in time to learn that Essendon went down to Carlton by a point. The following year, we shared premiership joy trouncing the Demons.

One time, she had to deal with some stuff with one of her friends. Amber was the shortest in this group of girls - five friends (still all mates today) who've been affectionately dubbed the 'rat pack'. I remember telling her that it is better to take things head on - talk direct to the person you have a problem with, not about them, behind their back. Let them know how you feel (an important technique for anyone). She did it. Spoke her mind with her friend and sorted out the problem. I haven't forgotten it, nor how proud I was of her.

This morning her brother presented a funny and touching note in the birthday card he gave her... he noted that in his life, he had 'learnt a few things' about his sister. Three actually.

#1 Don't bother you in the mornings'; #2 Don't go into your room; #3 You are a very lovely, beautiful, loyal, fun, caring and passionate person and that I am lucky to be your brother.

That's a pretty cool affirmation from a nearly 15 year old boy.

It is past 9am now as I write. Therefore, right now, that one time 8 Pound 6 Ounce baby (like the old measurements) is sitting her VCE Year 12 Psychology mid-year exam, here in Melbourne, some 10,542 miles from where she took her first breath.

A call came in from her Nana in Chester - her grand-daughter had already headed off to get ready for the exam. She'll ring again later today.

Tonight, we will share a meal at Amber's favourite Indian restaurant - family tradition. First birthday dinner with her boyfriend along (yep, nothing prepares you for that moment either dads... there is no handbook). The time simply has flown. Our daughter is officially an adult. The Mighty Lisa commissioned me with the card writing duties for today...


Dearest Amber.

Officially an adult. We are so proud of the young woman you have become. You are blessed with so much. May you have an adult life that is stunning... that makes a difference.

We love you. Mum & Dad.

We don't take this occasion for granted. We know we are fortunate. It is not a given that every kid makes it to 18. I hope you have some memories of your own to savour as you read this... the funny ones, the moments that make you proud - enjoy them (and feel free to share them in the space below).

The time goes quick.

Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au

Managing Alien Abductions

My grandparents’ house is still on the farm. Grandpa worked his orchard for decades. After he retired, my uncle took over, building his own place there. We’re lucky, our tribe has got an actual place – ‘Gruyere’, in Victoria’s Yarra Valley. As kids, each of my brothers, sister and cousins used to get their turn in the school holidays up at Grandma and Grandpa’s.

Both lived into their nineties. So my kids (daughter, 17 and son, 14) have their own special memories of their great grandparents. When my kids were little, we used to drive up from the city, buy a big family pie on the way and take it up for lunch with Grandma - a little tradition we’d forged.

As a dad, a treasured Gruyere memory happened not long after Grandma died. My then, 11 year-old son and I embarked on an overnight bike journey from the farm to a town called Warburton. We stayed first night at my uncle’s place. We didn’t visit the old house. We were still both a bit sad.

On the bike trail, my son talked happily as we rode 40km to our destination. We stayed in the caravan park, had a counter meal in the pub. He felt so grown up, soaking up some dad time.

That’s only three years ago but it does feel like a much longer time. Why? Because I reckon that little bike rider was recently abducted by aliens. They left a replacement… similar but slightly hairier, sleepier and mono-syllabic in his utterances. This new version of my son (scientific name - ‘adolescent’) believes that those same aliens, stole his dad’s sense of humour.

We have stepped quickly into role. His peer group’s influence has increased exponentially. Concerts, parties, girls… everything’s happened quickly. I’m the boundary setter: phone calls to other kids’ parents, the checking of plans, the curfews have turned me into possibly the most embarrassing dad ever known. We can get very grumpy with each other.

So where’s the hope? Is it just a slog until a healthy adult emerges from his teenage cocoon?

The hope lies in a recent visit back to the farm. Life’s busy… hadn’t been up for a while. Neither of us had actually been back in the old house. We went inside – together - sat at the kitchen table where we’d shared those pies with Grandma. We found some old newspapers and just sat and quietly read through them - together. We were visited by a feeling of calm and appreciation of a time past, when things were a little simpler.

Then from that ‘calm’, my son expressed a wish…

“Hey Dad, I reckon it’d be good if we went on another bike ride.”

Here’s three tips to help you help your adolescent.

1. Keep them connected in your family tribe - it has a story that’s older than their peer group.

2. Return to their happy childhood memory places. Revisiting helps them revisit what really matters.

3. If they invite you to spend time with them. Accept. Make the time.

Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au

You can also see this article feature as the closing story of the newly launched Parentingideas Magazine

Always Check Pockets

It's been almost two years in the planning now... (the mighty) Lisa, Robyn, Clare, Moy and Mahony are heading off to the UK, France and Italy this Friday night. Half the fun has been the planning and dreaming about the trip.

An unusual crew, we are, underneath the West Preston skies... the five women, off on this global adventure, are all still with the original person they married. We certainly don't take that for granted. I am in awe of those of you who are doing the job of being mum, dad or mentor on your own.

That said, there have been some moments of pure gold in this final week lead up. Robyn was doing her packing in what could best be described as a 'first draft'. Her un-better half 'Big Ray' noticed she was struggling with how to lighten her luggage. It was seriously overweight. Big Ray is your classic unrevised Aussie bloke. Big fella, big beard, chippie, bikie. He offered some abrupt advice to his wife in the form of a question.

"Do you need all of your cosmetics?"

Robyn had conveniently packed her toiletries into one smaller bag inside the case. On removal, the case was 4kg lighter.

Moy rang this morning... she is trying to find an easy way to teach her husband, Ken, how to do internet banking.

And then there is this blogger's household. Lisa is the star of this post and I am under strict instructions to emphasise this but... I do want to get in, in my defence, that I do, do the ironing (sporadically) and the bathrooms every Friday. However, I must confess that our one-year-old front loader is still something of a mystery to me. Therefore, Lisa has this morning, given some final instructions on how to operate our washing machine. I'm reminded of that old toothbrush ad... 'Rob is a dentist, so we can't show you his face on TV.' The Mighty Lisa is not a dentist... she simply has an aversion to her face being on camera but as you can see in this video, she was happy for her hands to be seen in this instructional piece. Granted, I am biased but I think she could be hand model - she would put George Costanza to shame. This video may also be of use to any bloke who is unfamiliar with the working of his laundry and is about to enter any period of temporary (even permanent) bachelor-hood ... enjoy too the unintentional bloopers at the end as I try to turn the phone camera off.



Just because it's called a 'smart phone', it doesn't necessarily follow that it has a smart owner.

So can we extract any deeper meaning out of this story? Let's have crack at it.

The next seven weeks are going to bring home a deep appreciation of all the wonderful things Lisa does that keep our busy household ticking over. I get it and see it now but suspect that we are going to see things so much more deeply.

The next seven weeks also provide an opportunity to have a go, on my own at a couple of things, parenting-wise with my own kids. Case in point, already this week, the young bloke has started making his own sandwiches. This could be a welcome, embedded routine by the end of May. I'll keep you posted and if my kids aren't happy, they know this blog has an open feedback space below. So if I am not up to scratch, I will probably cop it.

Feel free to leave your comments and stories below as well. What do you appreciate about your significant other? How is running the household if you are on your own? And by the way, if you are interested in following the journey of The Mighty Lisa and her four travelling companions... here is their travel blog.

Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au

Japan... as seen by a 14 year old boy

Talked with a friend on the phone yesterday. A mentor really. He asked what I was thinking and feeling about the multiple disasters in Japan. My answer was immediate.

"I'm watching it through the eyes of my son."

Teenage boys are prone to absent mindedness. Sometimes they will even leave their Facebook page open on your laptop. We've got a 'we can ask to look at your Facebook page anytime' policy in our place anyway (it kind of works). I saw something he had written on his 'chat'... 'the world is ending'. The mighty Lisa (aka 'better half') is an astute observer and mentioned that we should keep an eye on the young bloke.

"He's frightened". Lisa spots things as they are.

When I was my son's age, I recall that period of time between, first becoming aware of the exponential number of times Earth could destroy itself with its own nuclear weapons and later, managing to rationalise that such an event is unlikely and that if it did happen, we wouldn't know about it for too long. In that gap of time (which was a few of my early teenage years) I thought every time a plane went overhead that that was the bomb on its way to hit the GPO. Did you ever wonder why those graphs showed nuclear fallout extending from the General Post Office? That only fuelled my fear further... 'how can they be so accurate?'

During that gap in time, quite simply, I was frightened. I felt silly about that because after all, I was growing up. I had too much and not enough information all at the same time.

A few years later, as an older teenager, I told someone I had held these fears. She explained that when she was a girl, every time a plane went over her house, she thought it was the communists. So, back in the 1950’s, in orchard country outside Melbourne, the 'reds under the bed' were scaring a teenage girl who later on, became my mum.

I told that story to my good friend and mentor yesterday. He had the same fears growing up that the commies were going to get him.

Maybe every generation of teenagers experience large world moments in ways that render feelings of powerlessness. If you are twenty-something, how does September 11 house itself in your memory?

What do we do?

If you are a parent of a teenager - tell your kids if and when you were frightened of stuff when you were growing up. What made you get over that? Tell them.

If you are a teenager reading this, ask your mum or dad if they were frightened by stuff when they were younger. And don't in any way feel silly about feeling scared - even show them this post if it can help get the conversation going. You know how I just said I had too much information when I was a kid... well, now you're a kid and you've got access to that thing they call the internet.

We are all watching it together. Sometimes we don't check with each other how it’s being taken in. Those little acts of concern, of love really, are the ways that we can deal with the terrible tragedy that is beaming into our homes. There are people doing amazing things to help each other in Japan... we can help further away by just checking in with each other - face to face.

Step away from the screens for a few moments everyone.

Talk. Listen.

In checking this out with the young bloke, it was evident he had consumed a fair number of media stories and angles on the topic. I explained that his mum thought he might be frightened, he said he was mostly just ‘sad’. He then went into a whole bunch of things he had been learning from reading about the Japan crisis. He had taken a lot in.

“I’m okay dad, I just hope that they get serious about different ways to make energy after this. But I don't think they will... that's why I said 'the world is ending'.”

The young bloke's assessment is direct - there is no way to pretty that up. However, I do appreciate he told me a bit of what was going on in his head and heart.

Feel free to write add your thoughts below.


Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au

The Grandparent Factor

The 14 year old addresses the ball... first tee at Yarra Bend.

Just as he starts his swing, his dad stops him and says,

"Before you tee off, did you know that your feet are pointing out towards the ninth fairway?"

"I know what I'm doing dad!" The young man's reply has more than a hint of an agitated tone.

"OK, do what you like" says his dad and the young bloke hits off...

... at a 45 degree angle into the rough on the side of the ninth fairway.

Despite his dad's prediction being correct, this fails to instill awe and respect within the son for his father's knowledge of the game, ability to forecast the future or his life-lived acquired wisdom. In fact for the next nine holes or so, every bad shot is his dad's fault for putting him off on the first tee.

If you are raising a teenager as you read this, or recall doing so, you may well resonate with the experience of not having to do much to be 'booked' by your kids. He morphed into a less grumpy version of himself by the back nine and much of the credit for that goes to his Grandad, the other golfer in this three generation grouping.

Grandad Viv sidled up for a couple of little 'alongside' chats up and down those fairways... arm on his shoulder, some well chosen moments to get a point across more sternly, all of these were well received by the same 14 year old who was so unhappy with his dad. Grandad provided the circuit breaker... he could get away with a few more things than his son-in-law who got 'booked' way back on the first tee.

It is important to say here, not every kid has a grandparent... some are not as lucky as the young subject of this story - he has all four still alive and well. If the latter is your situation, consider the elders you trust who could play a role in your teenager's world. They are so important.

So what was happening here? Firstly there's an old classic in there - can you see it? How hard is it to hold back when you can see that the direction your kid might be going in, might be the wrong one? Isn't it difficult to bite your tongue when you have made the same mistake yourself? The father here didn't even wait for his son to play his first shot before he was giving him advice. There's a fairly obvious metaphor in there that, if it is safe, isn't it a good thing to be near by as they make the odd mistake?

It's far better to wait to respond gently to the question, "what am I doing wrong", than to go head long into a lecture about what will go wrong.

And the other great aspect is that Grandad was there. In the cut and thrust of everyday life, having back up... someone who can offer their advice and play a role in a young person's world does them and their parents, so much good.

Of course you have probably worked out that the dad in this story is your blogger. Good thing that when he started this parent-child program work full time, he had two things he was sure he wanted to say to the world.

1. No parent is perfect (even though the media subtly pressures parents to be super-people).
2. Half the battle is being there... being there alongside your kids even when you are not getting it right and...

... being there with people like my father-in-law, my son's Grandad, who is such a great help to me and the mighty Lisa as we raise our two teenage kids.

Feel free to write your thoughts below and consider... who are the elders that help you along the way?

Seeing their Boys 'Step Up' - dads' insights

What are the building blocks to adulthood? Can we spot when a young person is stepping up to the next stage of their life?

Some Ballarat dads penned some beautiful insights about their boys recently.

Young People Step Up in Tough Times

Recently when we had a family member pass away, my son was able to show initiative and help out with his younger siblings. (MK)

Next door neighbour's funeral. Son had the choice to attend school swimming carnival or go to the funeral... chose the funeral and missed out on being part of a winning team. (RR)

When I had to go home to my mother's funeral... he made it easier to go by being strong. (MP)

When my wife was diagnosed with cancer, we tended at the beginning to keep it from him. There was a moment in the hospital when he asked "Mum - why didn't you tell me? You will beat it!" We were both astounded at the way he coped with the serious nature of his mother's illness." (AM)

Young People Step Up into Responsibility (and they love being with you)

I went to cut a load of wood one day and my son insisted he come even though he knew it was hard work. I know he didn't want me to be alone or do all the hard work. (RA).

Yes, he's wanting to drive machines, cars, motor bikes... wants to help dad with business... wants to go camping with dad. (AB)

He shows great skill and concentration moving sheep. (BS)

Yes, when he said he wanted to help with the house. I said no but he kept saying he wanted to come and help. (TS)

When I've headed away to work and he has stepped up as the man about the house - (cutting/collecting) wood etc. (DL)

I was going to head off on a bike ride by myself. My son told me he wanted to come along with me. We talked about things... he talked, telling me what he found interesting... (BL)

Young People Step Up by 'Serving'

My son often displays 'grown up behaviours' especially if someone needs help (i.e. people with a disability). He demonstrates a desire to volunteer. (BM)

He helps other people and he is always 'stepping up' in his acts of kindness. (DM)

You did the dishes without being asked. Gave your mum a hug out of the blue! (MC)

The Gold

What is crucial here? The dads noticed.

These moments can be subtle. In the meeting point between a young person's readiness and the older person's intuition, there exists an opportunity to help form a healthy young adult.

The seeds of maturity are there in our kids and catching these moments is key.

If you are a mum, a dad, a mentor, a teacher... when did you see a stepping up moment in a young person?

Do you remember a stepping up moment of your own? Do you recall a person who made the space for you to step up?

Feel free to offer your thoughts and memories below.

Bill Jennings http://www.time-space.com.au/

Good Man Profiles - Year 7's insights

In this week's Good Man series, we are asking what are the characteristics of a good man.

Today we tap the insights of some Year 7 boys from a school in Ballarat. At a Time & Space event last month, these young blokes were asked if someone had given them the space to 'step up' or they had taken an opportunity to step up and show their capabilities, their maturity and show that they are on their way to becoming a fine young man. There are some great examples here...

When my dad had an injury and I said I would do the mowing for him. And now it's a regular thing.

Yes because I'm good at moving the sheep on the motorbike.

When ____ first let me use the 'Whipper Snipper'.

Last year I stepped up to helping my friend when he was not really happy.

There's a palpable pride in these boys' comments. At the evening, the boys really understood that concept... they had an intuition about moments in their life when they 'stepped up'. When young people are invited to be generous, fill a gap when they are genuinely needed, the foundations of adulthood are made stronger.

In the next post, you'll see how the dads and mentors have noticed the acts of kindness in their boys that show the characteristics that will help them become fine young men. Did you have a moment where you where invited to step up?

Feel free to write your thoughts below.

Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au/

Washing the Dog

Do you ever notice things have changed through some task that you do repeatedly?

I had this experience on the weekend. It is part of my household role description to wash the dog. We've got a West Highland Terrier named Sno-Joe (my daughter wanted to call him Snowy and my son wanted to call him Joseph!) He is approaching ten years old. Still pretty fit and well but definitely getting older. So the first thing noticed with this regular task is that Sno-Joe didn't flinch when I asked him if he wanted a bath. The words 'bath' or 'wash' tend to see him get up and find a hiding spot. It is terrible teasing but we always get a laugh from our dog's antics - please don't tell me that dogs aren't intelligent creatures.

So, Sno-Joe was up for a bath. He walked towards me and seemed to be saying... "Yeah, I am a bit pongy. I'll take the wash!" (Yes I know I'm anthropomorphising him - but I challenge you to convince me that dogs are not people.) The big thing I've noticed over the last few washes is that when I tell him he is good to jump out of the bath, he is now really struggling to get out. As a sprightlier hound, he always cleared the bath-tub edge on the first attempt. Now it takes him quite a few goes. There will be a point in the not too distant future where I will have to lift him out. But my heart is saying 'not just yet'.

The thing for me with this is that my kids have grown up from being real little people as Sno-Joe has gone from being a puppy, to a dog in his prime to the beginnings of an 'old man'. I want our dog to keep being fit and independent... but with my kids, I want time to put the brakes on their independence just for a little while yet. I want my kids to hold back on growing up. My daughter is seventeen, my son fourteen and every week, there are signs that those little people are disappearing. My daughter had a friend over last week and got out some old school photos - her first year in primary school... just eleven years ago. Then she found another class photo of her in Grade Two - the year we brought Sno-Joe home as a puppy. How quickly does the time go?

The rhythm of household routines and everyday rituals that we practice can pique moments in time and enliven the memory. I am proud of how my kids are growing up but part of my 'dad-DNA' worries for them just like I'm sure my mum and dad felt for me. Repeated activities have a meditative dimension that invite our attentiveness. I notice these feelings attached to the shifts in time as tiny bits of grief that have their melancholy, their bitter-sweet edge but there's stacks of love too, in the mix of all this. That attentiveness maybe helps us to invest small pieces of extra trust in our kids as they make their journey towards young adulthood.

I guess that the challenge is to enjoy every moment. It is 9.46am in the morning here in Melbourne - my teenagers are still fast asleep (on school holidays). Who knows what time they will wake up? They need their sleep... but old man Sno-Joe is up and sitting at my feet as I write. Time to sieze the day and take him for a walk. It is certain that he will he will be deleriously happy about this simple invitation. It is great having an appreciative dog when you have teenagers in the house!

What are the everyday tasks and rituals that give you a subtle measure of the steady movement of time? Feel free to write your answers below. Also - have a guess at what time you think my kids will wake up today! I'll let you know in the space below!

Thanks for taking the Time & Space to read this.

Bill Jennings
http://www.time-space.com.au