First they came for the bikies...

The picture above reminded me of an incident back in 2008 that I blogged about at the time.

In the context of the current politically generated hysteria about bikies, I though it was worth sharing again -


A few weekends ago, my wife and I traveled to a provincial centre some 80km away to participate in a “show and shine” with our car club.
It was a glorious day – or at least it started out that way – with an autumn sun providing gentle warmth, and no wind to speak of. The road was lightly trafficked; the countryside a picture, and once we left the main road, the drive engaging.
There was a wide variety of vehicles on display ranging from street rods to classic British sports cars. There were also lots of bikes, and of course, bikers.
Standing beside a cluster of Harleys was a leathery looking character wearing a Vietnam Veterans Motorcycle club jacket. He displayed some interesting tats, and wore the signature head scarf. He looked about my age, but wasn’t as grey as me, and looked as fit as a whippet.
Despite my wife’s “are you sure this is a good idea” look, I walked up to him, extended my hand and introduced myself as a fellow veteran.
“Nice bike”, was my observation. He shook my hand. It emerged that he’d been in Vietnam at the same time I was, but had served in 4 RAR. During all this time, he kept his left hand hidden behind his back.
As he relaxed and became more animated, his left hand, or what was left of it, emerged. There was no hand as such, but a well-worn leather gauntlet covering a stump.
“Got shot up in a bunker system”, was his explanation. “Copped it in the arse as well”.
We shared warries about bunkers. My story had a happier ending. I mentioned that I’d gone back to Vietnam a couple of times. He looked at me as if I had rocks in my head.
“I wouldn’t ever do that mate – it would bring back too much shit” was his dismissal. Fair enough.
“The whole bloody thing was completely stupid”, was his closing observation as we wished each other well and went our separate ways.
It rained on the way home, so we had to put the top up. I thought of him. You can’t put a roof on a Harley, but his leathers probably kept him warm and dry.

Comparisons

Erin-Go-Bragh

Both Tony Abbott and Julia Gillard were born overseas.

Both came to this country on boats.

Wikipaedia provides some detail -

Former Prime Minister Julia Gillard migrated with her family from Barry, Vale of Glamorgan, Wales in 1966,in her parents' hope the warmer climate would help her fix a lung infection.

The current Prime Minister, Tony Abbott, migrated in 1960 under the £10 scheme, despite the fact that his father had already lived in Australia after arriving at the beginning of WW2 on a "First Class Only" Blue Funnel Liner, served in the RAAF and studied dentistry at Sydney University at taxpayer expense, and that his mother was an Australian expatriate living in England at the time of his birth.

So Julia Gillard came for health reasons, and the Abbott family turned up looking for a better life, after his father was helped along by the Australian taxpayer.

So they were both ten pound Poms.

This meant that they paid only ten pounds for a passage that cost, at the time, about one hundred pounds. The Australian taxpayer picked up the rest of the tab.

Again, from Wikipaedia –

Prior to 1 December 1973, migrants to Australia from Commonwealth countries were eligible to apply for Australian citizenship after one year's residence in Australia. In 1973 the residence requirement was extended to three years, then reduced to two years in November 1984. However, relatively few British migrants—compared to other postwar arrivals, such as Italians, Greeks and Turks—took up Australian citizenship.

Now ten pound Poms came seeking a better life.

In fact, it would not be inaccurate to call them country shoppers.

So, to make some comparisons with the current crop of boat people –

Costs – The ten pound Poms were paid for by the Australian taxpayer. Boat people these days pay people smugglers.

Residency – Ten pound Poms were granted citizenship after one or three years. Boat people these days will never achieve Australian citizenship.

Motives – Ten pound Poms arrived on boats seeking a better life. So do the current crop of boat people.

Religion – The religion of the ten pound Poms was not an issue. Boat people these days are demonized by some because they are Muslims. Those that aren’t (Egyptian Coptic Christians, for example), are lumped together with Muslims and demonized anyway.

Manner of arrival – Ten pound Poms traveled on safe and reliable ocean liners. When they carried ports and wore expensive clothes off their ships, nobody was bothered. Boat people these days are criticized if they carry briefcases or wear expensive clothes. They arrive in rickety boats.

The biggest difference of course, is that the current crop isn’t (as the song says) “neat and clean and well-advised”.

I wonder if my ancestors, when they arrived here in 1860, were “neat and clean and well-advised”. According to the old Irish song – not likely.

When you stand back and look at it, you could very easily come to the conclusion that we’ve lost a great deal of compassion and decency since the days of the ten pound Poms.

But then, what would I know?

I’m obviously just a bleeding heart……

Cricket

My sister, who has a fine sense of humour, sent me this.

I thought it was worth sharing.

Q. What do you get if you cross the English cricket team with an OXO cube?  A. A laughing stock. Q What's the height of optimism?  A: English batsman putting on sunscreen. Q. What's the difference between an English batsman and a Formula 1 car?   A. Nothing! If you blink you'll miss them both. Q. What do English batsmen and drug addicts have in common?  A. Both spend most of their time wondering where their next score will come from. Q. What does an English batsman playing in The Ashes have in common with Michael Jackson? A. They both wore gloves for no apparent reason. Q. What is the difference between Cinderella and the Pommies? A. Cinderella knew when to leave the ball. Q. What's the difference between the Pommies and a funeral director? A. A funeral director isn't going to lose the ashes.

Daylight Robbery

A useful publication

On Monday I had a long conversation on the phone with a patient woman in the Govia call centre.

For the non-Queenslanders, Govia is the corporation that manages the tollway that takes Toowoomba people to Brisbane airport from the Warrego highway.

I could avoid the tolls, but the Warrego is iffy with all the rebuilding at the moment, and you need to be on time when meeting aircraft. I missed a plane last year because of the roadworks, but that’s another story.

Three days prior to making the trip, I phoned Govia (because their website didn’t seem to be working), to update my account details as I had renewed both car and credit card.

I repeat this call was made THREE days before the journey. The guy who answered was surly and patronizing.

I also ordered a couple of the tag thingies, one for each car.

Anyhow, after travelling twice to the airport from Toowoomba (alternatively collecting and depositing number two son after his spell home for Christmas) I felt secure in the thought that all matters Govia were organised and in hand.

Not so.

A letter arrived at the end of last week.

It was a letter of demand from Govia demanding $18.16 for what they called an “unregistered toll”.

It also contained the following in large red shouty text –

Pay now to avoid an Infringement Notice in excess of $140.

Given that the letter arrived two days before the deadline added to the bizarre nature of the process.

I immediately paid the amount through BPay, but phoned anyway, because I no longer trusted Govia to manage my account.

The patient woman dealing with my call couldn’t understand why my phone call three days before the journey hadn’t been recorded on the system, although all details were up to date.

It has occurred to me that the surly individual sabotaged the process. I have no proof of this, but it is very strange.

The transaction went through, but I’ve still been hit with the $7.71 administration fee. I’ve registered a complaint about this with Govia, and asked for a refund.

No response so far.

I’ll keep you posted.

Obviously I’m not the only one unhappy with Govia.

Calling it When you See it

One of the American TV networks run a regular segment called "What would you do?"

In this one they were looking at how Muslims are sometimes targeted for abuse.

It's pretty self-explanatory.

I wonder what would have happened if the same exercise had been set up in this country?

It's Christmas

I've been searching to find something appropriate to post at Christmas.
This turned up in the parish newsletter, and it fits well.
The baby Jesus was, it should be remembered, a displaced person at the time of His birth.
If posting this makes me a bleeding heart, so be it.
That's a badge I'll always wear with pride.

Lazarus at Our Gate. Australian Catholic Bishops ' 2013 Social Justice Message

"In the Gospel parable, the rich man’s failure is not an overt cruelly, but an indifference to human suffering. The rich man passes Lazarus constantly but never actually 'sees’ him - never actually recognising Lazarus’ need. 

We cannot be at peace, eating our fill, in the knowledge that a sister or brother lies hungry or sick at our gate. We know that such a state of affairs is as far as it can be from the vision of God. Our God is revealed as a God of abundance and hospitality who gives life to the world, bread to the hungry -  And Christ as our guide and saviour... God in Jesus chooses humility, service and self-emptying as the hallmarks of a love which is everlasting - sumptuous and rich".

By the end of 20 12, the number of forcibly displaced people worldwide exceeded 45 million, the highest level of displacement since 1994. These are men, women and children driven from their homes by war or civil violence.

Often these people are forced to seek refuge in countries that are themselves facing significant struggles. Eighty per cent of refugees are seeking protection in developing countries, making it even harder for those nations to lift themselves out of poverty. In 2012, Pakistan hosted the largest number of refugees ( l.6 million), followed by Iran (868,000) Syria hosted 477,000 refugees and, with the recent terrible violence, 647,000 have fled seeking refuge in neighboring countries.

For millions of refugees, it will be many years before they can find a home again.  Some never do. Of the refugee population under the mandate of the United Nation’s High Commissioner for Refugees, around two thirds - 6.4 million people. - had been in these circumstances for five years or longer. Refugee camps can be the size of small cities. The one in Dadaab , Kenya, is home to about half a million people, including some 10,000 third-generation refugees born in the camp. Not only have these people lost access to t heir livelihoods, their extended families and their faith communities , but they are very often prevented from moving around freely, earning a living wage or planning for their futures.

Those displaced from their homes are prone to trauma, causing them to experience poverty at many different levels no matter how high their education or employment levels before.

Facing these odds, it is no wonder that many are forced into desperate choices --- living hand-to­ mouth in slums or shanty towns -- are spending their last savings on risky journeys to places they hope can protect them. The Catholic Church has been a source of hope and assistance to those on the move around the globe. That basic level of human solidarity - hospitality to the stranger and refuge for those seeking protection - as been lacking in our national political debate over the past decade. The recent increase in the n umber of people arriving by boat is insignificant by world standards. In 2012, as a country like Pakistan struggled to accommodate 1.6 mill ion refugees, Australia’s political leaders and media whipped up hysteria over the arrival of 17,000 asylum seekers in Australian waters.

We have been saddened to see part of our international aid budget diverted to funding for asylum seekers being processed in our community. These are men and women who richly deserve our support, but not at the expense of others in desperate need. Any reduction or diversion of international aid funds remains a concern, particularly where those funds are directed at addressing many of the problems that ca use people to flee their homelands.

The depth and breadth of poverty that still exists in our world calls us to action. That so many suffer multiple burdens of deprivation prompts deep soul searching. How is it that so many are excluded from enjoying spiritual, cultural, educational, social, economic and political freedoms? How is it that so many still lie like Lazarus at our gate, bearing in t heir bodies the cost of their struggle and denied access to the table of participation and solidarity time and again. This is the challenge for us, as Australians and as members of the global community, as we seek the path to reducing and eliminating poverty in the years to come.

Blast from the Past

I've been meaning to do this for a long time.
Getting a copy of my army records from CARO*  that is.

They make interesting reading, not because they reveal anything I didn't already know or remember, but because of the insights gained by looking at the way records were made and kept back then.

Everything was taken down in longhand. Computers weren't invented, or at least not used for the record keeping application.

They collected lots of information, although it's hard to understand why some of it is relevant.

Why did they need to know I was into photography, played the guitar and recorder, and fixed bicycles?
Given the well-know tendency of the army to post any given individual into a corps completely disconnected from civvie skills, it's more than a little mysterious.

They also got it wrong, or I told a few fibs. I did, at the time, have a couple of subjects towards a degree. I hadn't done very well, so may have been embarrassed to mention it.

I was in Cadets at boarding school, but think I made up the bit about being a signaller.

Seeing my Nationality listed as "British" is annoying, to say the least.

My medical classification of A1 is interesting, given that I'd had a mild case of Polio as a toddler, and ended up with one leg slightly shorter than the other.

The funniest bit is having my papers stamped as "Potential Officer".
In the first five minutes of my officer intake interview I told the guy with the handlebar moustache that I thought we should get out of Vietnam.

That was the end of the interview.

* Central Army Records Office