Snake Oil: Bells and Whistles

Some time in everyone's life - multiple times throughout life in fact - difficult choices will present themselves. There are moments when decisions have to be made, important, pivotal points in time. The consequences of these decisions need to be considered when there is sufficient time for proper consideration. On occasion, we are forced to act quickly without proper deliberation.

Here's an example of a watershed moment which occurred recently in our lives. Everyone knows air fryers are a safe and healthy alternative to traditional oil frying. Having had countless hairy cooking sessions and suffered injury as well, my wife wanted to ditch the oil and go for the air.

So off we went to The Good Guys. The Good Guys at Warrawong are situated in a row of large homemaker stores. All the major furniture and appliance retailers are there, except Bing Lee. We chose The Good Guys for two reasons. First, our last appliance purchase had been there, albeit at the Millner store in the NT, and secondly because when you are travelling southbound on King St, as we were, they are the first appliance store you come to.

To cut a long and dull story short, we narrowed the choice of air fryers down to two; both Phillips brand air fryers. (Phillips invented the air fryer). The two fryers were identical in all but two aspects; colour and instrumentation. It was literally and figuratively, a black and white decision whether to chose the white fryer with a good old fashioned dial, or the black fryer with a digital control panel. The black fryer with it's numerous settings and bright lights was significantly more expensive. For me it was a no brainer. If the two appliances do the same thing, why pay extra for electronic controls?

It won't surprise you to hear, that my wife, as the chief cook in our home, had the final say and she chose the black one.

I'm totally okay with that. It's a great appliance which does what it is supposed to do and has certainly reduced the incidents of burns from splashing, spitting oil. I've even used it to cook pies because the gas oven we have, sucks.

My issue is the electronic component. All modern appliances have them. They have all the whistles and bells, including the twin musical dipsticks I used to joke about in relation to cars when I was young enthusiast.

The trouble with all these fancy electronics is they are noisy. Really noisy. They're intrusive rude, and a bit of a nag. Where one beep might suffice to tell me the microwave has finished it's job, several beeps insist I take action. I can't touch any buttons without loud beeping. I can see the display so the sound seems redundant. I suppose if I was blind, I would appreciate it, but come on. Why is the sound necessary? Why is it so loud? When you turn a thing on. BEEP! When you adjust the time, temperature or other setting. BEEP! When you switch it off. BEEP! I don't see the need for it.

Maybe it's how the appliance asserts itself, signalling its obedience, declaring its efficiency. Maybe, it's intended to be reassuring. It's making a loud noise, so it must be good. It cost a lot of money so it must be loud, and the display must be bright. There's a light on the USB charger in our car. At night, it's so bright, it's distracting. What is the real purpose of all these lights and beeps? Do we really need the bells and whistles?

The popularity of electronic controls on appliances suggests their desirability, if not their necessity. Or have we been fooled? Have we been seduced into believing that appliances with electronic controls are better? More powerful? Easier to use? More efficient?

In the opinion of the writer the whistles and bells only serve to make appliances more annoying. I'll continue to use them of course, including my second choice air fryer, but I'll also vainly tell them to 'keep it down' while lamenting the intrusion of yet more unnecessary noise.

A Dog's Eye: Life's a Funny Thing

The day had not gone at all according to plan, and as I sat in the taxi, I was contemplating how unfair it all was. For a fraction of the cost, I should have been riding a bus. My intention was to test the route for the children to get to and from school. Alas, it was not to be. What now I wondered? And this on top of everything else.

We arrived in Wollongong on June 1, after an eight day road trip from Darwin. We spent three weeks at mum's place, looking for work, looking for a place to live, praying things would work out, fighting the doubt which naturally arises following each disappointment. Each closed door, each rejected rental application, providing opportunity for us to allow despair and regret to run us over, or to praise God for the opportunity to trust him. Remember, prior to our departure, we had confidently stepped out in the deep ocean of uncertainty and insecurity to trust the God who called us.

We did all that we could. The children started school, and I continued to apply for jobs, as well as pursuing my dream by writing. When we finally received a 'yes' from an estate agent, we were naturally elated, but soon after began to worry how we would pay the rent. My wife and I took turns encouraging each other to keep the faith. Why would God help us get a place to live, then not help us to pay the rent? That was absurd. I kept applying for writing jobs and many others, some in my professional field, others not.

The house we got became yet another test, as many unsatisfactory elements only became apparent after we moved in. We struggled at times to stay thankful in the face of so many irritating little problems. Some, like the lack of functional TV antenna, and missing locks on the windows in the main bedroom, were serious, others less so.

With my redundancy payout now exhausted, no income, and no prospect of paid employment, an unexpected and avoidable taxi fare was nearly the straw which broke this camel's back.

So I sat in the cab, feeling sorry for myself, wondering when this season of insecurity would end. I had a feeling I should talk to the driver. I'd said hello, and asked how he was when we boarded, but had maintained silence since then. I didn't want to talk to him, but the thought persisted that I should. Three times I felt the urge, and each time I was given the exact words to use to open the conversation. Finally, I relented.

'Life's a funny thing, isn't it?' I said, turning to the driver.

We chatted for the remaining fifteen minutes of the trip, after which I realised how talking to him had lifted my spirits. Either by functioning as a distraction, or releasing a blessing because I responded, albeit reluctantly, to a prompting to start a conversation, doing it had made me feel better. Much better.

When I related this story to my wife, I became aware of the fear which had insidiously crept in and was negatively affecting everything. Our feelings, our words and our decisions. We talked it out and agreed to reject that fear and continue to walk in faith.

Then COVID joined the party and the city in which we live was ordered into a two week lockdown. 

Yesterday, looking resplendent in our face masks, and rugged up against the cold to which we are still adjusting, we caught a bus to the mall to do our grocery shopping. Did I mention we don't have a car at the moment? It's at the smash repairer because we hit a kangaroo 50km west of Renmark, South Australia.

You gotta laugh. Really. Life is a funny thing. I have even more time now to write and work on things writing related. I feel quite relaxed, even though we will soon be pillaging our nest egg to pay the rent and everything else. Externally, nothing really seems to be happening. We're quite stuck, but internally, we are growing stronger together, and continuing to laugh, even when we feel like crying.

A Dog's Eye: Trust without borders

It's truly surprising how busy you can get when you lose your job. Nearly six weeks ago now, my position at work was made redundant due to restructuring, and my employment was terminated; effective immediately. Contracted until June 2022, we (my wife and I) planned to leave Darwin to return to Wollongong to be close to my family. My redundancy was simply God changing our timetable, and demonstrating his goodness, yet again. Had I stayed on and left work on my own terms, I would have walked away with nothing. Being made redundant meant that I walked away with a tidy payout which has provided a financial buffer for us as we wade into a deep ocean of uncertainty.

Financial buffers and the security of permanent full time employment is exactly what God is calling me out from. He wants me to get out of that boat and walk on the water with my eyes on Jesus. Clearly, another watershed moment in my life, losing my job has given me a chance to do something new. To stretch my faith and change direction. 

Since I was gifted that old 486 computer in 1998 and I wrote the manuscript for the never published What's Your Problem?, I have dreamed of earning a living by writing. I've never had the time to go hard at that dream. I was never willing to leave my wife and children struggling with the consequences of my artistic pursuits. I had to be an ox, not a unicorn.

Over the years, I've had six novels published, as well as a collection of short stories and scores of short stories published online and in print. I've made some pocket money and received a huge amount of satisfaction, but always lurking, ever present, was the dream to work full time as a writer. I've decided to take this opportunity to do that, to chase it like I've never chased it before.

We didn't decide to leave Darwin immediately. We chose to wait a few weeks to let the dust settle and then make a call. I felt we needed to time to pray and properly consider our options. Ironically, my wife felt more strongly, at first, that we should go than I did. Fast forward five weeks and I'm now the gung ho one, certain the time is right. My wife, who has built a tremendously successful hairdressing and beauty business in only six months, is having a few sleepless nights though. She'll be able to rebuild her client base in our new location because she's great at what she does, but the thought of moving, of starting all over again is understandably daunting.

'Daunting' doesn't quite reach far enough to describe the thought of moving to another state with nowhere to live and no job. We are applying for rentals in the area, but we will need divine intervention to overcome the fact that neither of us have jobs. How will we pay the rent? Until we find a place, we'll stay with mum. Our rent will be at least $50 higher than we're paying here, maybe as much as $150 more. My wife has no clients. I have no job. It seems like a bad situation, but we have absolute trust in a good God.

My whole life is a testimony to God's faithfulness, but especially over the last few years, we've seen God do great things for us. Even our meeting on eHarmony in the first place had God's fingerprints all over it.

One week from today we will be having breakfast, preparing for our road trip to Wollongong. The furniture and most of our possessions will have been loaded in to the back of an Allied Pickford Container the day before. After we leave, the cleaners will come in. I've compiled some awesome road trip playlists on Spotify and upgraded myself to Premium so we can enjoy the songs without interruption. Packing is under way. We've bought sleeping bags and a gas cooker for the trip. The car has had a full service. It's all happening.

My wife has continued working, and around her schedule we've fit in a number of farewell dinners with our many friends in Darwin. We're now doing an number of things for the last time. We ate dinner and watched the sunset at Mindil Beach Night market. Attended mass at St.Mary's. Over the Fence, the radio show I did on Monday nights with my good mate Trev, has broadcast for the final time. As I drive around, I can feel myself disconnecting. There's a tinge of sadness, but mostly what I feel is excitement.

My friend Mark, has given me some casual work in his office and I've scored a couple of freelance writing jobs, so things have been ticking along, but leaving the security of full time paid employment, a regular paycheck, is both exciting and scary. It's a new chapter and we are ready to answer God's call to walk out on the water where our trust is without borders.

Stay tuned for a special Road Trip series on Square Pegs. I'll no doubt have plenty to share about this eight day, four state, 4300km trip, not the least interesting part of which will be how my wife and daughter deal with all those hours on the road; especially camping. We're all pretty pumped right now.

A Dog's Eye: Letterbox Bomb

I need to confess, right off the bat, that I only used the word 'bomb' to grab your attention. Although I do have experience with letterbox bombs during my wayward and rebellious teenage years, I actually want to share with you some reflections arising from letterbox drops. I'm not sure if that's the official name for what I was doing for four hours this morning, but that's what we'll go with.

If you've spent time walking around delivery advertising materials to people's letterboxes, or, as in my case today, addressed mail from the local member of parliament, or if you've worked as a postie, then the following observations will certainly ring a bell. If not, then perhaps it will give you some insight into the trickiness of what would appear to be a very straightforward task.

Here are the three major problems which arise during a letterbox drop.

1. Corner blocks. If I told you that three adjacent houses on one street could be numbered 14, 65 & 9 you might be surprised unless you live in a house so numbered. When I arrived at a house on a corner, I had to figure out which street it belonged to. The letters in my hand were all personally addressed and in order, so the confusion caused by houses on corners resulted in quite a bit of extra investigative walking and backtracking. Adding to my befuddlement this morning was my uncertainty about which street I was in and where that street started and ended. You know any street called a Circuit is going to present some challenges. I was literally going aorund in circles.

1. Letterboxes. A few houses had no letterbox at all which sent a very clear message. Many letterboxes contained the warning not to insert advertising material which is something I always respect. Today's letter box drop was important information, not advertising. Most letterboxes were welcoming, at least superficially. I consider the ultimate invitation to be an appropriately sized open slot. However, such accommodation is not so common, especially with modern homes. Most of the houses I delivered to were built relatively recently and the letterboxes, like the homes behind them, are quite stylish. Good looking they may be, but user friendly they are not: the majority were not easy to access. The main problem was the covered slot which unless you have a thick letter or a wad of letters can't be pushed open by paper. You need to use two hands, and as my left hand was full of folded letters, this proved quite awkward. Many other boxes had a flap which needed to be lifted to reveal the slot which was also tricky. Letterboxes hidden behind frontyard shrubbery or positioned at ground level also negatively impacted efficient delivery. Despite these difficulties, I can happily report only spilling my lollies once.

1. Dogs. The burbs should be and generally are very quiet and peaceful. With only local traffic and most people either out or settled comfortably within the air conditioned walls of their modern homes, the hot air is silent apart from bird song and the occasional waft of music or conversation. It's quiet, that is, until you walk past and the dog goes off. Darwin has the highest per capita dog ownership of any Australian city or town. The dogs in Darwin are all contained behind fences. I'm not frightened of dogs and felt no threat from even the larger and more vicious looking beasts. They couldn't have got me even if they wanted to, so I felt safe. There was one exception: a scary little Daschund escaped its domestic confines, yapped growled at me, chasing me down the street for a few metres until it was satisfied I wasn't going to invade it's property. Most of the dogs will do that. They'll just bark at you until you have passed their territory. The problem is one dog barking sets off all of the other dogs, and not all of these vociferous canines know how to control themselves.

Despite these challenges, the irritating noise of barking dogs, and the heat, I enjoyed my work/walk. I said G'day to a few people, chatted with one lady about the crazy numbering, admired the well manicured gardens, appreciated the sleek architecture of the houses and I prayed for the names on the letters, for the people who live in those homes. I prayed for them, although I don't know them and will probably never meet them. I thanked God for the work and for the exercise.

relationDips: Crabs

It may be hard to fathom at the outset how a post about relationships would involve crabs other than the obvious allusion to sexually transmitted parasites, aka pubic lice. Let's therefore have a close inspection of the crab as one of God's creatures.

Crabs are decapod (10 limbs) crustaceans of the infraorder Brachyura. Found in all the world's oceans, in freshwater and on land, they are generally covered in a thick exoskeleton and range in size from the Pea Crab (just a few millimetres wide) to the Japanese Spider Crab which has a leg span of up to 4m-yes, I said four metres. There are 850 species of crab worldwide. They walk sideways because of the articulation of their legs, use very complex communication systems and are sexually dimorphic. I love sexual dimorphicism. Humans likewise display obvious physical differences between the two undisputed genders. Calm down. I'm not here to debate that issue. I'm talking about crabs.

Pubic lice are small, flat light brown parasites that cling to pubic hair and suck blood for nourishment. It goes without saying that if you have sex with someone who has these crabs, you will get them. It goes without saying that if you only have one partner who also only has you, and the two of you practice normal hygiene, pubic lice won't be a problem for you. Relax. I'm not here to sermonize about sexual immorality. I'm talking about crabs.

My wife loves seafood so the other day while shopping at Mr Barra she had to have one of the live mud crabs they were selling. I think crabs are more trouble than they are worth. They have so little meat on them, and it's so difficult and time consuming to extract it that I can't see the point. Furthermore, the price was alarming: $65 per kilo. I said nothing as my wife chose her crab, then finished her seafood purchases. I said nothing when said purchases totalled quite a sum of money. I just paid because she works hard, she likes crabs and I thought she deserved a treat. She was thrilled; both by my silence and on the appearance of my card to pay.

Crabs can be quite aggressive and are considered to be ill humoured and selfish creatures. Hence someone with a negative and selfish attitude is said to have a crab mentality. We also describe someone who is angry or even grumpy as being crabby.

What conclusions can be drawn from all this information? Certain crabs are good for relationships while others are not. Most sane people would eschew all contact with pubic lice. Many people of varying degrees of sanity like to eat the feisty crustaceans. We may not admire much about their behaviour, but here's the take home lesson: don't get crabs (pubic lice), don't be a crab, and be willing to overcome your negativity about eating crabs if it proves to be a blessing to your partner.

Finally and most importantly, good relationships do take a lot of hard work, but unlike eating, crabs the effort is absolutely worth it.

The Mirror: The Way of all Flesh

You've probably heard the expression 'gone the way of all flesh' meaning that someone has died. However, you may not know that this expression comes from the Old Testament. Check out Joshua 22:14 and 1 Kings 2:2 which say, depending on the translation, 'go the way of all the earth' or 'go the way of all flesh.' I did not know this until I researched it for this post, but I'm not surprised, as many common sayings are either bible quotes or bastardizations of them.

The title of Samuel Butler's classic semi autobiographical novel, The Way of all Flesh, is then a most appropriate title because the protagonist is a clergyman. Written by Butler between 1873 and 1884, the novel is an attack on Victorian era hypocrisy.

Classic novels may not be your thing, and I suspect it's probably because of the writing style. Being lexically dense, with old fashioned words and extremely long and complex sentences doesn't always facilitate easy reading, but I love this stuff. The themes explored by Butler in The Way of all Flesh: hypocrisy, religion, faith, atheism, nature versus nurture and family dynamics may well be oft explored ideas, but the classics have a precision and depth in their language use which is, although not rare in modern novels, certainly different. We should remember classical writers were not competing with nor were they influenced by film and television. In any case, the skill of the writer in dealing with universal themes to which everyone can relate, is to challenge the view of the reader; to make them think.

I've been posting quotes from The Way of all Flesh regularly on Facebook, since I began reading it. When I read something and I have stop, and re read it, and contemplate it, allowing it to filter through my worldview, I know I am reading quality and inspired writing. The quote I want to share in this post is one I found particularly pertinent as I am currently facilitating the journey of another group of men through the Valiant Man sexual discipleship program. This quote contains information about the main character which may be considered a 'spoiler'.

"Although in the healthy atmosphere of such a school as Roughborough you can have come across contaminating influences; you were probably, I may say certainly, impressed at school with the heinousness of any attempt to depart from the strictest chastity until such time as you had entered into a state of matrimony. At Cambridge you were shielded from impurity by every obstacle which virtuous and vigilant authorities could devise, and even had the obstacles been fewer, your parents probably took care that your means should not admit of your throwing money away upon abandoned characters. At night proctors patrolled the street and dogged your steps if you tried to go into any haunt where the presence of vice was suspected. By day the females who were admitted within the college walls were selected mainly on the score of age and ugliness. It is hard to see what more can be done for any young man than this. 

For the last four or five months you have been a clergyman, and if a single impure thought had still remained within your mind, ordination should have removed it: nevertheless, not only does it appear that your mind is as impure as though none of the influences to which I have referred had been brought to bear upon it, but it seems as though their only result had been this-that you have not even the common sense to be able to distinguish between a respectable girl and a prostitute."

What I like about this quote is that it very accurately displays the ignorance and arrogance of men regarding sexuality. Good men get into trouble when they forget they are men. Most men are good at being providers for and defenders of their loved ones, but we are also good at ignoring danger and pandering to our weaknesses and addictions. It never ends well for the man who cannot control his sex drive.

RelationDips: Engineering Families Part 2

I’ve been a fan of Neighbours since it first came on our screens back in 1985. When I say fan, it isn’t my favourite show, not by a long shot and I haven’t seen every episode. I don’t have a dedicated blog. I’m not a member of any fan clubs and my knowledge of the show, the revolving plots, cast of characters and the actors who play them is not deep. However, these days I rarely miss an episode, most often watching catch ups on Tenplay. Usually, at any given time, I can tell you what’s going on. Occasionally, I lose interest with certain storylines and characters. At other times, I get right into it. There’s a current thread about a twenty-year marriage ending. Shane and Dipi. Shane lost the plot with a drug addiction. Dipi had an affair. The affair was explosively revealed by people with alterior motives. Shane moved on with Amy who made him happy and accepted him the way he was. Dipi declared her love for Shane and wants to get back together. Shane says no way. I can’t forgive you. Not a far-fetched storyline at all. I should know. I lived it.

Neighbours is a classic soap opera. Everything that happens, though based on very plausible scenarios, is next level dramatic and intense. People are always saying they’ll never forgive someone for what they did. Then after a few more episodes, they do. All the main characters live in the same street, Ramsay Street, and work in the same suburb, Erinsborough. There’s always someone in Erinsborough Hospital. Two of the residents of Ramsey Street work there. There’s always a police drama. Two police officers live in Ramsay Street as well. You get the picture. The potential for drama is untold and for entertainment’s sake is often ridiculous. The various threads are sometimes light, sometimes heavy, but always fun…if you like soap operas.

An interesting subtext to the imaginary lives of Ramsay Street residents is the social engineering which drives both the creation of characters and storylines. Here’s a few examples.

1. - Mackenzie is a transgender character who, not long after joining the regular cast, had her final gender reassignment surgery.

2. - David and Aaron are a same sex attracted couple who after experimenting with foster care, enlisted the help of their same sex attracted female housemate to ‘have a baby with them.’

3. - The newest teacher recruit at Erinsborough High is deaf. The actor wears a Cochlear implant and plays a deaf teacher on the show.

4. - Terese, who runs Lassiter’s Hotel, retracted an earlier, politically incorrect Australia Day statement, in order to make amends on the Australia Day episode.

Three of these four are controversial issues which the producers and writers of Neighbours, clearly very liberal thinkers (aka ‘tolerant and inclusive’ in newspeak), are not afraid to tackle. And why would they be? The deliberate move towards ‘normalizing’ people who have traditionally been marginalised by mainstream society and discriminated against because they are different is not necessarily a bad thing. However, it does mean, that because minority groups have to be given equal status and equal opportunity, we now have a situation in which the microcosm of a television show does not actually reflect the composition of society. What we see is what the makers of these shows want us to see. Ramsay Street has a transgender character, a same sex attracted male couple, and a same sex attracted female who injected herself with sperm so she and her friends could have a baby together. What they don’t have is anyone profoundly disabled, regular indigenous characters or anyone from an ethnic minority who migrated to Australia with poor English. Never mind those minority groups though.

Getting back to the broader issue of families, Karl and Susan Kennedy are Ramsay Streets grandparents who have operated as defacto parents for many ‘strays’ over the years since their own children grew up and moved away. For example, Hendrix is currently living with them after his father’s marriage ended and he moved away. (His father is the guy who had the affair with Dipi.) The idea that families are no longer narrowly defined along the traditional lines of mother, father and biological children is simply an acknowledgment of reality. However, the concept of the extended, blended, all-inclusive family with many people contributing to the raising of children is not an innovation.

“It takes a village to raise a child” is an African proverb which reflects what we all know to be true, but it’s worth examining in much finer detail. If the village is a village of idiots then there’s no benefit to the child right? If the village practices female genital mutilation, for example, then perhaps that’s not a great village either. If no one works in the village, then that’s a pretty pathetic example to set for children as well. So, the value of the village quite clearly depends on a number of factors.

My point here is that television shows like Neighbours seem overly interested in dictating what modern families should look like. I’ve deliberately avoided talking about the show Modern Family, even though it is also a classic example of what I’m talking about. Popular culture is tremendously influential. To say the themes and storylines of many movies and television shows, like Neighbours, are merely mirrors of society is disingenuous. The truth is they represent a deliberate attack on the family unit.

 

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