Mungo - Busking for The Philippines

Some Time & Space Community people might know that Mem Fox’s picture book (illustrated by Julie Vivas), Wilfred Gordon McDonald Partridge gets a run in some of my presentations. It‘s a personal favourite. It is a story of a small boy who helps his ninety-six year old friend, Miss Nancy Alison Delacourt Cooper, in the nursing home next door to his house. I love the way he takes action to help her because she has lost her memory.

In the last few weeks I have found out about another extraordinary boy who lives locally. This seven year old boy, named Mungo, saw a problem and simply responded...  

Through November I was in the UK delivering some Time & Space programs there. I flew out on Melbourne Cup Tuesday. Our family had been away for the weekend and I knew something bad had happened in the Philippines... a massive storm but I had my head down whilst delivering the programs in England and never really took in what had happened.  

  

The morning after returning home Lisa sent me up the road to buy some milk where I bump into Gurdeep, a friendly bloke who works at our local IGA store. Gurdeep I think is a Sikh. He wears a turban, a beard that would make any inner city hipster proud and always, a big smile.    

“When is your band playing next?” asked Gurdeep.

He was referring to a band I’m in called SHeD, a bunch of four dads who met up years ago when our kids were at the local primary school. Our by-line is Four Blokes and a Guitar and we practice in my shed. We play occasional Saturday mornings outside the ‘Miller-on-Gilbert’ shops to create a vibe that emphasises the difference between a local precinct and a monolithic retail centre like Northland. The local traders chip in a few bucks and when people go to offer us some busking money, we say “This is a gift from the traders, spend your money in their shops”. It works well but be assured, none of us have given up our day jobs.

I tell Gurdeep, “We’re playing this weekend.” Gurdeep is a big fan of any rock’n’roll - he appears at the front of the shop, clapping along if we are playing Holy Grail or a big Elvis Presley tune.

“We’ve had the little kid play out the front here... have you heard about the kid?” Gurdeep asks.

“No I haven’t mate, I’ve been away,” I respond.

“ He plays his little guitar and he’s been in the paper.” It is clear Gurdeep has been captivated and is excited.

So Saturday comes and Mungo is walking on the other side of Gilbert Road. He lives with his mum Kathleen and Dave, his dad in one of the shops converted into their home. Mungo sees that SheD are playing out the front of Menuki Hairdressing across the road from him. He pops back inside and appears with his ukulele in one hand and a newspaper article in the other.

“Oh”, I think to myself, “that little kid Gurdeep was talking about is Mungo!”

Our band have watched him grow up through the years... he has always stopped and listened to the tunes. He is a serious, reflective little guy. This time he played along with us. He knows two numbers, House of the Rising Sun  and Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da. Our guitarist Stephen, follows Mungo and we sing along with him. 

Here’s the back story. Mungo and his parents, were sitting at the dinner table and chatting about a story that dominated our news services in early November. Just like Wilfred Gordon, Kathleen says, “he is always asking questions” and his dad had been listening to the ABC news on the radio for the developing consequences of Typhoon Haiyan. It captured Mungo’s attention. As he asked more questions and talked with his dad, he started to imagine and understand simple comparisons about things we might overlook. Mungo wondered what it might be like to lose all his toys.

He also wondered if there was something he could do about it. At the dinner table that night, the idea that Mungo came up with was that he might be able to busk, playing his ukulele for the people of the Philippines as he once had made about $8 playing out the front of his shop front home. Dave, his dad explained about Oxfam, so he made a sign to that effect and people chipped in. Next Mungo was allowed to play outside the IGA. Oxfam heard through Mungo’s dad what he was doing and they gave him a temporary blog to track his goal towards raising $500. From there the photographer headed down and took some shots for the Herald-Sun story.

Mungo has just finished in Year 1 and as the Oxfam website states he has, in recent weeks, “shown you are never too young to be a role-model”.

Kathleen says that his Principal called him up recently at the Prep, Year 1 and 2 assembly and he started telling the Preppies that “a typhoon is like a really big whirlwind”. The school are having to review their policies as well as Mungo, as a Year 1 isn’t old enough yet to go on the student social justice committee! 

 

As the penny dropped and it became evident that Mungo had started a typhoon of goodness, I quickly checked with the boys in the band and all agreed that there was no way we could put the money the traders gave us that day into our own pockets. I went in to collect from Fiona the hairdresser who owns Menuki. She had seen Mungo playing with us and I let her know that the money today is going to his campaign. Instead of handing over the usual $20, Fiona doubles it and says “give him this as well.”

The next shop is Glo Beauty and as I tell Monique behind the counter, Mungo’s story, a lady who has just had a treatment is standing next to me, ready to pay. The lady’s name is Margaret, she hears about Mungo’s efforts and pulls twenty bucks out of her purse, hands me the money and says “give it to that wonderful boy”. Mum, Kathleen who is Mungo’s blog manager credits Margaret’s contribution. Mungo has well and truly surpassed his $500 goal and as I write the growing total is $3042 AUD for Oxfam. You can check out the current total here, even add to it if you wish. Mungo, this is mighty.

At the end of Wilfred Gordon McDonald Partridge, there’s a beautiful line...

                And the two of them smiled and smiled

                because Miss Nancy’s memory had been found again

                by a small boy, who wasn’t very old either.

This post is sent out at Christmas. It doesn’t matter if you are religious or not – Christmas has a huge theme of giving. The story that underpins Christmas has central figures who were homeless on that night – as the nativity narrative goes, the baby was born in a stable at the back of the inn with the ‘no vacancy’ sign... there are people right now, still homeless in the Philippines.

Just like Wilfred Gordon I reckon Mungo has helped us to remember what’s important.  His story has sparked the kindness in other people’s hearts... his action has been so profoundly simple that it has been easy for people to support and join Mungo in his cause.

 It is a powerful little example of how one person’s action can make the world a better place and on this occasion that kindness has come from Mungo... who isn’t very old either.

As always, thanks for reading - feel free to add your comments in the box below. You can click the Anonymous link to write a comment. It is always appreciated if you include your name next at the end of the comment.

Bill Jennings - Creator and Founder of Time & Space

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When a Dream is Unhindered

Late last century, a network of Melbourne boys’ schools were each asked to send a senior student, one of their finest, to an education conference. The organisers had dreamed up a heady topic, ‘Boys’ Education for the New Millenium’. Mark, a friend and mentor of many years, had phoned me and asked for some help in developing a youth panel session. He wanted authenticity. He wanted the true insights of these young blokes.

I’ve been to plenty of education conferences where the ‘voices of the students’ section is wooden and cringey. It wasn’t like that with this group. In fact they were of such calibre that the facilitation was easy. The memories of that project have come flooding back in the last 24 hours for a specific reason... but more on that in a moment.

Mark and I felt we needed to get the fellas talking to each other and we wanted to give them time to consider what they might say on the panel. So a couple of weeks before the event, we took them off to Matteo’s in Brunswick Street (and yes, being seventeen, eighteen year old boys, they smashed down three large courses each). I knew the pressure was on for this group of kids to come up with something outstanding when I saw the bulging eyes of the conference organiser fixing on the bill!

He need not have worried, the chats over that dinner were a privilege to be a part of.... We asked them: what fires your spirit; who inspires you; what is your passion and what have been the instructive moments in your life, both the euphoric and tough times. We wanted to hear their stories and the group of young men did not disappoint. Mark and I knew by the time our meal had concluded that it was money well spent.

I have always remembered this group of young men and yesterday I was reminded of one of them again. The impression he gave is still clear. He knew what his passion was and he was full of gratitude for the people who had supported him in pursuit of it...

“All my life, I have loved music,” observed the young man.

He was captain of his school. I remembered thinking at the time how great it was that his peers and teachers had picked him. Boys’ schools have worked really hard in the last couple of decades at expanding the previously narrow concept of what made you a good bloke, an acceptable male. How good is it that a musician, not the hero of the first XVIII, was school captain.

The young man continued to tell his story. I remember his eloquence on the panel and how he impacted on the audience of adults. Looking out, you could see how struck they were with the clarity of his dream and how it had been unhindered by his important people.

It is nearly fifteen years ago, so the memory of his exact words is not here. The sentiment is.

Here are those sentiments I remember...

My mum and dad have always taken my dream seriously.

I love what I feel when I make music.

It is what I want to do with my life and my parents have always just supported me in that dream. Never have they suggested another, safer path.

The young man made an impact on me and his story helped to confirm a hunch I have always had... that if people, particularly young people, know what they want then the momentum of their motivation becomes an unstoppable force. When the dream is pure and fuelled by loved ones who cheer for the young person, when there is no clash of ambition between the elders and the young dreamer, then anything can happen.

Why do I know this? Because that young man just won three Grammy awards. Back in 1998 he introduced himself to the group as Wally. His full name is Wouter (Walter) de Backer, known to the music world and his fans as Gotye.



Thanks for giving yourself some 'Time & Space' to read this. As always, feel free to write your responses in the space below.

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The Extra Half a Second

It was one of those times where the internal prompt to just step up and say ‘thanks’ was strong. David had offered something very simple and, at the same time, brilliant the day before. A conference for people connected with boys’ schools from all around the world had just closed and as delegates were leaving to return home, there was only this moment to be able to express that gratitude.

“David, I just wanted to say ‘thanks’ for your workshop, there were little corners of gold around this conference... I’m so fortunate to have chosen yours,” I say to the smiling, Deputy Headmaster from St James Independent School for Boys in the UK.

My badge is still on, so David replies, “My pleasure Bill, glad you enjoyed the presentation.”

I am wanting to connect because David had made a deep impression the day before.

Have you ever been met by an atmosphere of calm when you go into someone’s space? I felt this calm surround me on arriving at his classroom workshop. Half a world away from where David and his two fellow presenters teach... these gentlemen, our workshop presenters gifted us a one hour window into the quiet stillness that is the foundation of their school’s ethos.

The wish to connect comes from the excitement that for about a year now, your blogger has been trying to start each day with some quiet stillness, some meditation. Can’t say I’ve done it every day but I could let David know that I have had a go at this for more days than not. It was exciting to share how when a number of ‘days in a row’ were strung together, I have felt real benefits. David’s headmaster (another David) had explained the day before that his deputy had been practising stillness twice a day for over twenty years.

David is kind and affirming throughout our brief chat.

“Well done Bill, with a year under your belt you are an expert in the practice!” There’s a depth of attention and sincerity, real interest.

“Hardly an expert David”, I respond, “my sporadic efforts are not even in the shadows of your years of practice.”

“It’s not so much the comparative periods Bill but that you have stuck at it, for long enough that it must be becoming a habit,” David replies, again kindly. “Tell me, you spoke about how you have benefited from practicing stillness. What have you noticed is different?”

“Ah, that’s easy,” I say. “The benefit shows up by what I notice on the days when I haven’t started with stillness.” I explain that, “on the days when I haven’t started with those twenty minutes of quiet, I am far more likely to walk into a fairly ‘focussed’ discussion with my boy, be reactive or even lose my rag if we clash over something.”

“On the days when I have practiced the stillness, and a moment arises where my son is just ‘doing his job’ as a teenager and me, as his dad – he’s pushing and I’m holding, a boundary, I get that vital, extra ‘half-a-second’. Time seems to slow down and it feels like I get the chance to choose my reaction, in that brief moment, and, much more often than on the days I do the stillness practise, that choice turns out to be a good one.

David laughs and says, “I have two sons and three daughters, I know exactly what you mean.”

As I look back at that brief interaction, I marvel at the story that David shared about an exercise called ‘The Pause’. Twice a day, the whole school stops... teachers and students alike and they become still. Below, if you are seeing the actual blog, my recollection, is on YouTube, of what David shared with the people in that workshop.

Just so you can get it in writing (in case you can’t open the link now). Here’s what you do if you want to pause each day, indeed right now. Read the instructions that follow in full (because after step 1 you are asked to close your eyes.

Firstly, make yourself still where you sit or stand. Bring your breathing to a steady flow and now draw your concentration to three of your senses...

1. Bring your attention to your sense of sight – look around where are, notice the colours in the scene around you. Hold your head still and stretch your eyes as far as you can to the left and the right and notice what you see.

2. Close your eyes and bring your attention to your sense of touch. Notice if you can feel even the slightest breeze moving by your face, your hands. Feel the touch of your clothes on your skin. Notice your feet in your shoes or on the ground.

3. Now change and bring your attention to what you can hear. Notice the sounds closest to you, hear some sounds further away and try and detect the sound that is furthest from you.

Finally, spend a few seconds bringing your attention back to your breathing. Notice its natural flow. Feel the rise and fall of your chest. Then open your eyes and feel the refreshment... and continue with a deeper awareness into your day.



Have a try of this. If you are an adult... see how it works with you in the next stressful moment. As a young person reading this, maybe if the ‘rents’ are getting on your back, I wonder if things might go differently for you next time you have a conversation that usually would end up being tense.

David offered such a simple, yet profound, activity. Supported by many thousands of hours of his own stillness efforts, this enabled him to present a memorable moment for a workshop full of people. Each of us were given a practical action that we could take back to our corner of the planet. And where ever you are right now, this wonderful practice has reached you. May there be more David’s in our world who kindly encourage and offer something good.

Josh's Story

Josh is a Year 12 student at The Hutchins School in Hobart. He spoke as a panellist at a Time & Space night I facilitated for a group of Year 8 boys (average age 13) and their dads or mentors. He offered an insight that smashed a stereotype. You know the one: that wisdom only comes from people with grey hair and wrinkles.

Josh was asked to mention a quality that he saw in his dad and to offer an example of that quality. He shared something unusual from a person his age.

“My dad’s best quality is his ability to give advice,” Josh offered the audience.

There’s nothing unusual about giving out advice. For those of us who are parents reading this, we are experts at giving out advice. If you’re one of the young people who read these articles, you probably feel that sometimes our advice giving just turns into white noise. I’m sure my two teenagers agree with me (for a change) on this point.

So there is plenty that is simply unusual about a son saying that ‘giving advice’ is his dad’s best quality. Josh was asked to offer an example. He told a story. As you read it, Josh’s wisdom is obvious – he can look back and see himself growing, see himself realising and see himself taking responsibility. The other wise character in this story is Josh’s dad. He didn’t come along to the night. I have never met him and that adds something to the marvel and mystery that his son nominated his ‘advice giving’ as his best quality.

Josh started the story saying that “my father gave me an anchor point.”

Josh remembers that it was November 2003 when he first received the slip of paper. His dad had copied out and written an anonymous quotation that had captured his eye in the local newspaper, The Mercury. As a then Grade 3 boy, Josh read the words, thought they were good and put them somewhere. That somewhere was not anywhere special because after a time, he lost that slip of paper. His dad noticed this. He knows that his dad noticed because at a certain time in 2004, he received the same quotation again, written in his dad’s hand, on a fresh slip of paper. And, yes... he held on to that slip for a while before he lost it again. This happened again in 2005, 2006 and 2007.

“It just ended up getting lost and discarded,” was the way Josh described what had become an annual practice.

Don’t you love the way stories, really good ones, have delightful coincidence infused through them. Josh was talking to some fathers, mentors and their Year 8 boys and it was in 2008, when Josh was in Year 8, that he received the slip of paper from his dad again. He received it for the last time. Why?

Because this time Josh said “I kept it, I know where that piece of paper is right now – it’s in my wallet.” Josh went on to explain, “It’s old and tatty but I know it is there and I get it out regularly when I need some inspiration.” You get the sense that Josh likes the learning he gets from the words but don’t you think that as he gets out that now four year-old slip of paper, he also knows he is holding a tangible example of his dad’s advice.

What’s the gold in his dad’s particular style of advice giving? It was delivered with planning, with patience and meted out on one rare occasion each year. With the utmost respect to Josh (because it sometimes takes me more than six years to get a message) I heard someone say this year, that we can send an email 12 000 miles across the globe in a second. Yet it can sometimes be years for it to travel that last eighth of an inch through the bone in our skull.

Josh told Year 8 boys that in Year 8, he finally got the message his dad was giving him just once a year, patiently until he finally took it in.

In preparing for my role as facilitator of these panels, I usually read out the questions over the phone and offer the young people who will be on the panel like Josh - an opportunity to talk through what they would say. Josh chatted for a while but then said, “I’m good now. I just want to take the next couple of hours to make sure I do this panel role right tonight.”

And in going off to do that extra preparation I think Josh did something else. He showed that he has embodied the words on that slip of paper:

Aim a little higher.

Go a little further.

Do a little better.

In taking the time to prepare, Josh showed that he does this as a matter of course now. And in doing that he honours his father.

What Can Parents Draw from Josh’s dad?

Put a premium on your advice. Josh’s dad was patient. He gave his son the piece of paper once a year. He was happy to wait until his son learnt the lesson and took ownership of the words. What might happen to the advice we give to our kids if we even halved the frequency with which you dish it out? When commodities become rare, they increase in value. Maybe the same rule applies to advice given in the right time and space.

What can Young People learn from Josh?

Josh thought carefully about the best quality he sees in his dad. Take the time to consider the special gifts that your mum, dad or guardian has. Find the right time and space to let them know specifically what you see as their best qualities. Maybe even write them a letter and surprise them. Watch their reaction if you follow through on this!

As always you are welcome to share your responses in the space below.

What's a great piece of advice you have received? Who offered it? Why is it so valuable to you?

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

Road Trip

The two of us loaded our overnight gear into the boot at the front of the old 'Volksy'.

Just the two of us.

That meant that the little red headed kid got the prime front seat propped up right next to dad. In 1973, dad took me on a journey up the old Hume Highway to Glenrowan in North East Victoria. We were going to visit his old mate Tony, who had been best man at mum and dad’s wedding in 1966. I must have been all of five or six years old. It is funny hearing dad tell the story – it is a vivid memory for him too.

It was deep into summer and the day we left, was a scorcher. Dad’s account is that five minutes after leaving the south-eastern suburbs of Melbourne, we had to stop for a cold can of cola at our local servo. I was asking for lunch by the time we got to Broadmeadows.

It is my earliest memory of having time one-on-one time with dad.

Tony ran a farm. Big tractors and machines, fields of wheat and old corrugated iron buildings. Dad and I stayed in the old ‘sleep-out’. There were louvre windows with rectangles of thick glass. I remember the sound of the cicadas well beyond dark. The mosquitoes were more the size of dragon flies and buzzed around us all night. I rang dad to get his memory of this. He reckons a cool breeze floated through for few minutes around 4am and then it was hot again. But you know what? I was loving it. This was my time with dad.

I reckon Dad did something else by taking me on that trip, he embedded the value of one-on-one, parent-child time. That six year old boy from 1973 is now a dad himself. And just because he runs programs for young people and their parents/mentors doesn’t give him any special claims on perfection (just ask my two teenage kids). No parent is perfect. In making the time, however, Dad made me feel special, a feeling that lasts through time. No-one can take that away from him, from us. It is something that he taught me to do with my own daughter and son. The warmth of the memory is offered as evidence to support the idea that one-on-one time strengthens a child’s resilience.

The lesson from dad has come in handy this year. My son, now fifteen years old is well in the depths of rampant adolescence. He asked if we could repeat an overnight bike ride we had done a few years before. To be invited by him, at this stage of his life, was an opportunity not to be missed. So in the second term holidays we rode the Warburton trail… stayed in a room at the pub, had a counter meal and rode back the next day.

It’s the little things, I’m sure, that will stick through the years. We had taken a footy with us on the ride and a hell of a game of kick-to-kick evolved… nothing unusual there, only that we played it in our room in the pub. We were seeing how many marks we can take in a row without dropping one. It was so much fun. Sometimes in raising kids through the adolescent years, it is hard to believe there is anything remotely funny about that task. We laughed on this trip… saying stupid things and just laughing. It was an oasis.

Then, in the third term holidays Jack and I headed off on a road trip. My brother lives in Queensland and my wife and I agreed that it might be a good thing to give his older sister some quality quiet time in preparation for her Year 12 exams. The Mighty Lisa would stay with Amber and the two fellas headed off on an old fashioned road trip… we packed the car… and headed north.

We stopped in motels… bought Chinese take away in Narrabri… stayed with my brother and old friends over ten days and nights on this road trip up and down south eastern Australia. They were big drives.

Much of the time we were quiet… then one of us would ask a question, we would talk for a few minutes then go quiet again. I wonder how Jack might remember our adventures down the track. A few clues have already been picked up. I know he really valued those quiet times and rhythms. I know because he told his grandfather about the trip on the phone and how much he had loved the time together – just the two of us. His grandfather then told me.

Can you see the story turning full circle here? My dad taught me something by taking me on that road trip. Have I ever let him know how much I cherish the memory? I have now.

Thanks for reading. Do you have a road trip memory? Feel free to share yours in the space below.

Bill Jennings
www.time-space.com.au


P.S. You can find this article, called just the Two of Us, in the Parenting Ideas e-Magazine Christmas Edition amongst a whole bunch of other great articles by clicking here

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/

Who's in Your Corner?

My Dad and I are pretty different. He's fine detail, I'm big picture. If you read one of my blog posts and find a typo in it, you can be sure that I haven't sent it to Dad for a forensic proof-read. He's read two drafts of this and suggested that I get my 'dads' consistent - he recommended going with upper case 'Dad' all the way through. I defer to the master!

This year marks my full-time move into the Time & Space program work and Dad has quietly responded when I have needed a hand.

"Hey Dad... can you pop over and just help me get what's in my head, down on paper?" Dad crosses town and is sitting next to me, asking all the practical questions, prompting and suggesting. He does the same but different things for my sister, brothers and all our kids (his grand kids).

Yesterday I needed someone to step in for the opening night of the 2010 Time & Space program at St Kevin's College. A couple of circumstances for my usual helpers meant that it looked like I would be running solo. Someone needs to greet people at the front desk, do a couple of other administrative things for the program set-up. With only a few hours notice, Dad was there.

Michael McGirr recently shared his insights (in The Age) about Mary MacKillop who is to become Australia's first saint on the 17th of this month. She once wrote, 'never see a need without doing something about it.' Dad read that line and said that for him it is all about helping his kids and grand kids where he can. He has been technically 'retired' for a few years but that term couldn't be further from the truth in the way he has launched into the next phase of his life. Dad is actively helping his busy adult kids.

So when you're asked 'who's in your corner', what name or face is the first that comes to mind. If you can, get in touch with them and let them know how much you appreciate their support. I'd love to hear your thoughts about who this person is for you or how they felt when you got in touch to say 'thanks'. Feel free to write your thoughts in the space below.

Time to give Dad a call. He's read the drafts - you know that's already happened. Thanks Dad.

Thanks for taking the Time & Space to read this.


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

The 'Tim-Tam' Journey

If you are reading this outside of Australia, how do I explain Tim-Tams to you? Have you ever met an Aussie travelling in your country? We are prone to more than a little home sickness. This usually applies most acutely to the foods we can't get easily overseas. Perhaps the traditional foodstuff that is missed the most, and gets the most attention, is the famous 'Vegemite'. Nothing like the taste of that distinctive bitter, black yeast extract on toast, melting in with the butter. However Vegemite does have a younger sibling that can spark tears of home-sickness in even the most unemotional travelling Aussie. The Tim Tam.

The Tim Tam is a beautiful combination of biscuit, chocolate cream centre with another outer layer of chocolate. It is delicious on its own but combined with a hot beverage or a glass of port, it takes on even greater powers. By biting opposite diagonal corners off the biscuit, it becomes a drinking straw... dip one corner into the cup of coffee, suck the coffee from the other corner through the biscuit and as soon as the liquid hits your tongue, pop the whole Tim Tam in... it melts in your mouth. This ritual, called 'shot gunning', has been taken to every corner of the planet. If an Aussie has shot-gunned fermented goat's milk with you in a yurt somewhere in outer Mongolia, with their rationed supply of Tim Tams, then you are considered to be an OK person!

Alright, have I sufficiently built the premise on just how sacred the Tim Tam is to the Australian people?... my point is?

If you recall, the last blog post promised a 'Part 2' to the wonderful experience of sharing a recent Time & Space canoeing weekend with Simonds College. Some Vietnamese families participated, one of the Vietnamese boys is called Tim and his dad's name is... you guessed it, Tam!

Around the campfire we had so much fun, laughing and enjoying some friendly cultural rivalry. Tim and Tam were the only father and son team not to capsize into the Yarra River that weekend. So to us, ‘Tim Tams’ were now, not only Australia’s greatest biscuit… our ‘Tim-Tam’ canoeing pair were the undisputed champions on the water. Michael, the other Vietnamese dad, raised his arms triumphantly, declaring, "We are the boat people!" Laughter... great Australian humour with its special brand of irony, is delivered perfectly. The irony of course is that ‘boat people’ is a term in Australia that evokes images of fear and mistrust. Yet Michael turned that mistrust into a moment where all around that campfire, shared delight in his quick wit.

Tam’s brother-in-law was a ‘boat person’, a refugee. He made a risky journey in a leaky boat from Vietnam to Australia. He sponsored his sister, Tam’s bride then of one year, to come to his new country. Tam had to wait five years until he could rejoin his young wife. Imagine that? What's important is that Tam and Tim got an opportunity to share significant parts of their own stories with each other. Some special things happened at this camp. Dominic, one of the other dads of Italian background is a mad follower of the AFL team Collingwood. He taught Tam how to kick an Aussie Rules footy. Tam skews a kick off the outside of his boot and laughs and claps. It is just a beautiful moment.

Tam explained to me that he took up the weekend as, "an opportunity to learn another way to be close to (his son)... another way of communication." In Vietnam, communication is often one way. The older generation give instructions and the children respectfully listen. Extended families live close together. Uncles, aunties, grandparents pitch in, collectively parenting, if mum or dad are busy. This is how it happened here in Australia with Tam and Tim. Tam has been busy working. Only, they didn't really have enough of that old country extended family to step in. So, Tim has felt that absence over the years but in the course of the father-son program, these two had a wonderful chance to explain each other's perspective. I watched Tim respectfully explain how he felt that absence through his childhood, not really knowing his dad as he was growing up. However, Tim also acknowledged that his dad had put his hand up to participate in the canoeing weekend with him, and he considered that a great achievement. Another beautiful moment.

So what do I learn from this story? Firstly, that when we come together with good intent, like trying to be a better parent as Tam and the other dads did on that weekend, we share more in common with each other than what makes us different. I’m in awe of the determination of Tam to learn ‘another way of communication’ with his son, having journeyed far away from his country of origin and a culture that was familiar to him. Isn’t that the challenge that leads to growth in any relationship? I am honoured too, to have witnessed Tim not shy away from the truth - he told his dad what had been tough but then affirmed him as well... masterfully, he combined kindness and courage. The boy presented himself as a young adult before his father.

Well done Tim and Tam – just like your biscuit namesake – you make our world a better place.

Thanks for taking the Time & Space to read this.

Bill Jennings

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

Smart Parenting

There are little pieces of parenting 'gold' surrounding us, all the time, I reckon.

We often hear that licenses and accreditation's are issued for nearly every task that we take on in society with the exception of being a mum or a dad. There is no official guide book, so capturing a good idea when you see one is important. Yesterday, I was catching up with Ted just briefly. Ted does the design work for things like my recent e-book and he was kindly doing a couple of revisions for an upcoming Dads and Daughters night.

I have always admired the way that Ted is 'dad' to his two boys. There are the headline moments he has crafted - a while back he created an adventure with his oldest son, who is in senior primary school now. They drove from Melbourne to Ted's home town of Perth. Ted's son was the navigator and helped with the planning - those sorts of journeys forge in the memory for nothing short of a lifetime. I recommend to all parents, planning and creating big memories for your kids.

The little things matter too and yesterday, I saw one such moment that could be useful to you if you have kids that enjoy a bit (or more than a bit) of time on a PS3, PS2, X-Box, Wii or any other game platform your kids have. We've finished that bit of work out in Ted's office in the back yard and we walk back through the house... Sunday morning, and his youngest is up, in his pyjamas and asks if he can have a go at a game on the Play Station 3.

What Ted does next is simple yet really, really smart.

"Sure, you can go on it" says Ted, "I am starting your time now."

And with that, Ted walks over to the oven, sets an hour on the timer.

Simple. Clever. Most ovens now have a timer that beeps. Ted's son knew the ground rules... he asked if he could play on the console. He knew how much time he had.

If there was an instruction manual for parenting, I'd hope that Ted's idea is in there in the 'electronic games' section.

What ideas do you have? What smart parenting have you witnessed your friends carrying out - even really simple things? Feel free to write your comments and ideas in the section below.

Thanks for taking the Time & Space to read this.

Bill Jennings

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

P.S. Ted's website is http://www.clarityindesign.com.au/