The Accidental Relationship

As the eldest of six, siblings have been very significant in my life. The same holds for my wife, who is one of eleven.

As our four have all left home, it is probably a good time to reflect on the sibling relationship and its significance at different life stages. You don’t choose your siblings (hence “accidental relationship”) but they have a major influence.

When I was a child, I fought cat and dog with my brother who was eighteen months younger. My two sisters also copped a fair degree of harassment from their older male siblings, myself included. My wife reports the same from her older brothers.

Whether this was harmful or helpful – I’m not sure. It was probably a bit of both. Our parents were always around to make sure it didn’t get out of hand. My siblings grew to become strong and confident adults, who have lived successful lives. Perhaps this robust give and take helped. Between us we have a school principal, an assistant director-general, two successful wives and mothers who balanced professional careers (music teaching and public service) and child rearing, a company manager and a rural GP whose hobby is emergency medicine.

Our relationships have seemed to grow stronger with the passing of time. We have a joke about our family “Mafia”. Each of us has a different area of expertise (music, finance, education, caring, technology, and medicine), and we never cease to call on each other in times of difficulty when sound common-sense coupled with genuine expertise is needed. We may spend months in which we have no contact, but when something difficult or challenging comes up, there is this immediately available support network that seamlessly kicks in.

The only time I ever felt isolated from it was my two years in the army, especially during my tour of Vietnam. Having said that, instead of the one or two letters that the other diggers received at resups, I would often get a relative avalanche of mail from my bothers and sisters. So even then, the network was there.

Recently, one of my brothers has been going through a very tough time as one of his kids battles with the aftermath of the removal of a cerebral tumour. He’s needed all the support he can get, and it’s pretty much been there.

I hope my kids maintain these mutually supportive relationships as they move through life.

Webjet Wobbles

One of my adult sons had a birthday recently. He’s a full-time student (Flinders in Adelaide), so not over supplied with ready dosh.

He also had a friend getting married in Canberra in November, so a return air fare (Canberra-Adelaide) seemed an appropriate birthday gift.

Usually, I book on-line direct with the airline, but on this occasion, I decided to use Webjet, mainly to identify the cheapest fare. Self-funded retirees also tend to be short of ready dosh.

Bad decision!

Halfway through the process, a dialogue box popped up, which read - “The booking engine has failed”

This was after I had entered the flight details and my name, but before I’d provided my card details. There was no further guidance, so I went back to the beginning of the process, and resumed the booking.

This time it went through smoothly, and in about half an hour I received the confirmation, the booking number, and the itinerary which I forwarded to my son.

Next morning, up popped an email with a second booking (in my name) and a second itinerary. Immediately I sent an email to Webjet headed “Spurious Booking”, asking it to be cancelled and the $361 dollars to be refunded. (A check on-line of my bank statement revealed that I had been billed for both the real booking and the spurious one).

There was no response in the next 24 hours (the original booking was made on 28th September) and my search on the website for a complaints hotline for Webjet was unsuccessful. It seemed that the only way you could make contact was via email.

In the meantime, I phoned Virgin Airlines and my bank. Virgin were at first a bit uncooperative, saying that I would be billed a cancellation fee. This was the response from the person in Manilla I initially spoke with. My bank explained that it was too late to stop the card payment.

I didn’t argue with the Filipina in the call centre. I discovered long ago that call-centre operators offshore have neither the English skills nor the authority to negotiate, and asked to be connected to an operator in Australia.

The answer was interesting. Apparently the calls are distributed randomly to a range of call centres, and only a few are in Australia. I would have to keep calling until I lucked one onshore.

Having neither the time nor the patience to do this, I reverted to older technology and used the phone book to find Virgin’s office admin number in Brisbane. There I spoke to a helpful (female) person, who cancelled the spurious booking without penalty when she heard the full story. She also made the comment that this wasn’t the only complaint about this problem that she’d dealt with that day.

A big tick for Virgin!

Webjet was another matter entirely. I sent three emails in all, patiently explaining the mix-up. These emails included chapter and verse (times, booking numbers, bank debit reference etc.) By this time I’d accumulated what could only be described as a dossier which was beginning to fill a folder on my desk.

Finally (two weeks in), an email arrived from Webjet’s customer centre asking me for a booking number (which I’d already supplied in the first two emails). This was encouraging – at least they were beginning to acknowledge my existence.

My hopes were unfounded. Three weeks later, I had heard nothing more and the money had not been refunded.

I got a bit busy (two western trips intervened), and didn’t sit down to review the situation until last weekend. This was about six weeks after the spurious booking went through.

It was time to stop being polite and reasonable. I sent another email which summarised the situation to date, included copies of all the previous emails, and gave them a deadline of a week to refund the fare or the whole dossier would be sent to my solicitor. I also found a 1300 number for Webjet, which I phoned.

The (male) person answering took my details, and said he would get back to me via email. He sounded tired. I got the distinct impression that he’d fielded a number of similar calls and was fed up to the back teeth.

This morning the refund popped up in my bank statement.

I’m not sure what did the trick – threats of legal action, or my phone call. Either way, it seems far from reasonable that I’ve had $361 missing from my bank account for six weeks because a computer system failed, and it’s taken three emails and a threat of legal action to fix.

So far there’s been no apology from Webjet.

Interestingly enough, they advise that any complaints should be directed to their feedback form. Maybe that’s where I went wrong.

Where Angels Fear to Tread

Everybody seems to be blogging about climate change.

Almost without exception, these bloggers adopt a position on the issue related to their political views.

Given that the concern originated from the scientific community, the fact that it has become controversial is bizarre. There’s no doubt that the issue has been picked up by both ends of the political spectrum to fit specific (and very different agendae) but it really isn’t a political issue.

What is to me alarming are the recent assertions of both sides of the debate. On the one hand we hear hysterical conspiracy theories about world domination. On the other we are scared witless with forecasts of death by fire, floods or starvation. These polemics simply complicate what is basically a simple issue.

Like many other Australians I have children. Like many other Australians I take out insurance. I don’t believe that this insurance is a waste of money, even when my house doesn’t burn down, or my car isn’t written off.

I believe that it is reasonable to insure the future of our planet against two basic threats which would affect the quality of the lives of my children and grandchildren. If we have to make financial and lifestyle sacrifices as part of this insurance then I can live with that.

The first threat is the strong likelihood that exponentially escalating carbon emissions are having negative effects long-term on climate. The second is that we are consuming non-renewable energy resources at a rate that isn’t sustainable if we want to enjoy the same lifestyle benefits currently available.

Either or both of these trends will bring us to a point where the benefits of not acting now will be far exceeded by the costs if we don’t. Even if you completely reject the IPCC consensus, the issue of depletion of non-renewable will simply not go away.

I’ve been trained in risk analysis. I understand the low-risk high-consequence component of basic risk management. There is no more severe consequence to taking an unnecessary risk than the degradation of our planet. That consideration alone should be enough to convince the most avid sceptic that we need to act. Sure, we don’t need the hype, we don’t need political positions to be taken and defended, but we do need basic behaviour change on the part of individuals, corporations and nations.

For me, the most convincing argument comes from personal experience.

My wife and I lost our firstborn child (a daughter), in 1982. The post-mortem indicated that she died of an aneurism that was a result of a congenital defect. The reason for the defect was never established, but studies of the children of Vietnam Veterans contain some very convincing statistics.

This experience, by itself is a powerful personal motivator to support planned and dogged action by individuals and government to maintain our planet as a viable life source for future generations.

I am one of many veterans sprayed with Agent Orange. I've returned to Vietnam on a number of occasions in the last few years and seen vast swathes of the countryside that still haven't recovered after forty years. I've visited Vietnamese institutions for people with disabilities and have been staggered and horrified by the extent and number of these congenital malformations.

Vietnam has one of the highest incidence rates of these malformations on the planet.

The use of this defoliant was an example of utter contempt of the natural environment. This mindset continues today in the attitude many of the sceptics. It is arrogant, totalitarian and basically suicidal.

These people can commit to future infanticide if they wish, but I don’t think it’s fair that they force the rest of us to join them.

Things I'd Forgotten

A recent Facebook post from my nephew who works with indigenous communities in the NT revived some long dormant memories. He was pictured surrounded by a group of local women sitting around a table decorated with aboriginal motifs.

This reminded me of a painting which a similar group of wise women presented to me when I left Mount Isa in 1996 after working in Indigenous Education out there for four years.

These women taught me so much. They were part of what was called the NATSIEP* advisory committee for North-West region. It was my job, as secretary of the committee, to convene meetings on behalf of the Regional Executive Director, assist them in allocating funding support on the basis of submissions from schools, and ensure the business of the meetings was conducted properly, and the necessary follow-up occurred. This follow-up comprised school projects designed to meet the 21 goals of NATSIEP.

I had to learn on the job. I became familiar with all the communities (Birdsville, Bedourie, Boulia, Urandangi, Dajarra, Camooweal and Mt Isa itself). I shared their dreams, frustrations and aspirations for the children in these schools, and travelled literally thousands of kilometres with them on the way to and from meetings and school visits.

We stayed overnight in various basic accommodation (usually bush pubs) and shared meals and talk before and after the meetings. We didn’t share any drinks – they were all teetotal.

On the long car journeys they’d talk about their work, families and experiences. Almost all of them had lived hard, demanding lives in harsh conditions and without the material benefits that I had become used to.

Without exception, they were giving their time and energy for their people, and their passion for improving the lot of the children in their communities was strong. They didn’t always agree with me, or understand the bureaucratic restrictions I had to work under, but we could have a stoush and remain good friends. I don’t remember developing such a strong respect for any group I’ve worked with anywhere else in the forty years I was with the department.

For me, the sad part was that they were all women – the men from the communities, for a range of reasons, were never to be seen. Their women made up for it. Listening to their stories of abandonment, loss and deprivation sometimes made me angry.

Lately, this anger returned when I watched the reactions of a few conservative commentators who made big fellows of themselves around the time of the apology by denying that any children were ever stolen.

The contrast between the spite and cant of those commentators and the grace and dignity of these women is stark.

Thanks for reminding me, Nick.

* National Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander Education Policy

We've Changed

It might be interesting to compare how refugee boat arrivals were reported back in the eighties and how this has changed since the Tampa incident in 2001.

The picture is from a collection in the State Library of South Australia. It shows a headline from The News reporting on a possible influx of people on boats from Vietnam. Imagine the headlines if the major dailies got wind of 40 boats on the way these days. There'd be more than "Govt Concern". We'd have macho posturing, opinion pieces about terror threats and the words "hard" and "soft" would be used often and with intent.

There's a strong contrast between the tone and language of reports from this era with what we are seeing now. In the seventies and eighties the emphasis is on the plight of the refugees, and the perils they faced on their journey. Most of the reporting is sympathetic and there is very little of it that gives the impression that they were seen as a threat. The concern was more about Australia’s capacity to manage them.

Of course, back then the approach was essentially bi-partisan, which is particularly interesting, given the state of the relationship between the two sides of politics after the Dismissal.

Obviously, there has been a major change in perceptions.

I’d venture to suggest that it may have a lot to do with the actions of John Howard at the time of the rescue of a boatload of refugees by the MV Tampa in August 2001.

Howard very skilfully harnessed fear of terrorists as a political weapon, and the timing of the 9/11 attacks, shortly after this incident drove the issue to a point where it had a major influence of the 2001 federal poll. Howard quite cynically used the issue to present his government as protecting Australians from unspecified threats from the North.

This cut deeply into the Australian psyche, and left scars that will take a long time to heal.

It’s sad, really, because part of what makes us Australian is our easy-going tolerance of people, especially those in need, and our capacity, demonstrated over the years to welcome and assimilate new arrivals.

Howard created a monster back in 2001.I hope I live long enough to see it consigned to history.

Hero Driver

We travelled to Brisbane yesterday using the section of the Warrego Highway that has to be one of the most dangerous stretches of road in the country.

It’s dangerous because of two poorly engineered sections – one at the beginning of the journey east from Toowoomba – the other towards the end of it. The range section (locally known as the “Toll Bar”) is dodgy because of the mix of slow and faster moving traffic compressed by a very steep descent. It takes an enormous volume of heavy traffic which also passes through the centre of town.

Many of the trucks refuel at Toowoomba, and as they head down the range, the slope causes distillate to spill from poorly-sealed tanks on to the road surface, which is often damp and slippery to start with. This is particularly bad in the early hours of the morning when dew sets in, but it can be risky at any time. A mixture of distillate and water is used to create a skid pan for advanced driver training, so you can imagine the effect on a steep public road.

The second risky bit is the Ipswich bypass, which is overcrowded, narrow, and infested with trucks. The speed limit has been dropped from 100kph to 90kph, and this has helped a little. It means that the B Double sitting two metres from your rear bumper will hit with a little less force before it punts you into oncoming traffic. They are spending squillions on it as I write.

We went down the range with no dramas – it was waiting to bite us on the return journey – but we had a lucky escape on the bypass. We were tooling along at 90km when, out of nowhere, a Toyota 4WD ute crossed the median strip and was heading straight for us. The driver’s head seemed buried in something in his lap – probably a mobile phone. In my experience, tradies are the worst offenders when it comes to using phones on the go. The thing had bucked and bounced its way across a drainage trench, but had remained upright.

I flicked the wheel violently to the left, and he went behind us. I waited for the sound of an impact because there was following traffic, but none came. He was lucky, and so was everyone else involved. The result of a combined impact of two vehicles travelling at 90kph would not have been pretty. It took quite a while for the adrenaline to subside. My bride actually swore – a rare occurrence.

On the return journey that afternoon, we arrived at the bottom of the range to discover the eastbound lane completely closed, with police and emergency vehicles everywhere. Apparently a truck had come to grief on the way down, taking two other vehicles with it. Eastbound traffic was diverted into one of the westbound lanes, and chaos ensued. Our ascent took three quarters of an hour. It usually takes 5 minutes.

The local rag hailed the driver as a “hero”. I wonder what kind of “hero” takes a heavy vehicle with dodgy brakes down a steep and crowded public road? The cabin had “Afterburner” writ large across the front. Obviously this “hero” has delusions that he drives a fighter jet.

The police have impounded the truck.

I hope they throw the book at him.

(Photo courtesy of the Toowoomba Chronicle).

Lateral Solution

I was asked by a school the other day to provide a recommendation about a year eight boy who was enrolled in a music elective.

He has Cerebral Palsy (hemiplegia), and although he operates with the characteristic enthusiasm and optimism of most 14 year-olds, playing the guitar as a member of an ensemble is an issue. He was getting stroppy and asking to be excused from music.

He’s a real bush kid, interested in Rugby League, riding his quad bike and chilling out with his (many) friends at school. The school is what is called a “high school top” in this part of the world, meaning that it’s a bush primary school with a small secondary department attached. Consequently, the teacher taking music is not a “music” teacher as such, but a general teacher who is teaching music as an elective.

I arranged to talk with him one-on-one to establish two things - what he could actually manage with the guitar, and whether the disability was being used as an excuse to escape a less-preferred activity. This kind of thing happens, and it’s always in the mind of a mean and suspicious old codger like yours truly. I also had a view that he may not be at all interested in music.

How wrong I was! He produced a good quality guitar (which he’s owned for a few years) with a fancy strap, which he handled with something approaching reverence. He showed me the two different ways he’d experimented with holding and playing it. He could play it OK, but whichever job he gave to the hemi hand (strumming or keying) it had trouble keeping up with the good hand. When playing solo, this was not a problem, but the class was doing ensemble work, and anyway, the teacher simply had to have him practicing/playing with the others to make the class manageable.

He also gave me a ten-minute lecture on up and coming bush bands. Some of this was vaguely familiar. My youngest daughter is interested in the same stuff. I was wrong about his interest in music. He had it in spades.

So he wasn’t put off by playing the guitar, but he was embarrassed because he was always half a beat behind the others. I explained this to the teacher, but apart from suggesting that he be put on a keyboard to provide a bass for the ensemble (advice from my music teacher sister) I wasn’t very helpful. I thought this might allow her to keep him included.

At least, as an objective outsider, I was able to confirm that he wasn’t simply being obstinate.

I phoned the school yesterday, because I’d thought some more and had come up with a few other ideas. I ended up talking to the deputy. “It’s OK“, she said, “we’ve come up with a solution“.

This lad and his teacher had worked out that he could use the school’s only electric guitar as a bass guitar. They’d developed the keyboard idea and improved on it. The advantage of this was that everyone else had to keep to his tempo.

The group sounds great, and he’s become the vital ingredient in the little band they’re building. There’s talk of making a CD.

There’s a metaphor in this somewhere.