One for the Chardonnay/latte sippers.

Well, we sure do things convincingly here in Qld. The former government was bundled out of power a couple of weeks ago in an astonishing show of democratic will by the voters in the Sunshine State. After twenty years or so, the government led by Premier Anna Bligh (the first elected female premier in Austrlia, no less) discovered that they weren't universally loved, indeed, they were hardly loved at all, and it was time to go.

The statistics will now show that the new Liberal National Party is the most "mandated" government in Australia's history. That is to say, more people voted to have the LNP as their government than any other government in this wide brown land, than ever before.That is convincing, and good on 'em.

One of the LNP's key pre-election messages was about "reducing government waste", and that clearly rang some bells with voters. So now we're told that an early initiative to do that is the abolish the Qld Premiers Literary Awards programme, which will save the State approx. $230,000 (+ some change). All over the blogosphere and twitterverse (d'ya like those new fangled words kids?) the commentary has started. Well, here's some more.

The Awards seem to have started back in around 1999, under the Beattie Labor government, and have provided awards in a diverse range of areas to do with literature and writing. For those who can be bothered to think about it, here's the list of recently abolished categories:
  

·         Fiction Book Award

·         Emerging Queensland Author—Manuscript Award

·         Unpublished Indigenous Writer—Arts Queensland David Unaipon Award

·         Non-Fiction Book Award

·         History Book—Faculty of Arts, University of Queensland Award

·         Children's Book—Mary Ryan's Award

·         Young Adult Book Award

·         Science Writer Award

·         Poetry Collection—Arts Queensland Judith Wright Calanthe Award

·         Australian Short Story Collection—Arts Queensland Steele Rudd Award

·         Literary or Media Work Advancing Public Debate—The Harry Williams Award

·         Film Script—Screen Queensland Award

·         Television Script—QUT Creative Industries Award

·         Drama Script (Stage)—Griffith University Creative Writing Program Award , and

·         Encouragement and Development Prize

In the interests of disclosure, let me say, I quite like to read. Doesn't happen nearly often enough, you know, reading for reading's sake, but I do like it. And as I read back over that list, there's not one category which I would gladly remove from a programme of awards designed to nurture, encourage and develop new writing. Part of me would like to think that the new government felt just as torn when they decided to axe the programme.


Trouble is, I think its more likely that in the euphoria of an election victory, against the backdrop of "cutting costs", the LNP has fallen into the trap of taking the knife to one of the least offensive, and probably least likely to defend itself, sectors of the community. I reckon most people don't think about writers (or most artists generally) much at all, and those that do make it onto the public's radar are the blockbuster, best sellers, and surely they don't need support or encouraging anyway?


If the government (any government) is serious about improving our society, then communication, expression, storytelling, art and culture all have to be front of mind. Withdrawing funding from one of the important crucibles in which these things develop can't logically be a good way to do that. As (moderately successful) writer Nick Earls has already opined, the amount we're saving here wouldn't buy a new bus stop. I notice today that has also been announced that the government is reviewing the expenditure on corporate boxes at sporting events. It will be interesting to see how the people who will be affected by those cuts respond.


Could it be that this is seen as a way of showing that its not just the "yartz" which will  get its funding cut?  Doubt it.

Childhood Behaviour

I want, I want, I want. Thats what I hear from my kids, or at least, I used to. Now that they're getting older, its more like "I 'd really like to ...."

See, they're getting the hang of this life thing. They've started to understand the difference between the relentless instant gratification which characterises childhood and the more considered, self awareness and consciousness of others which adults are supposed to employ. And that s a good thing I think. It's even fun actually to do a kind of mental "before & after" photo in my mind to see how far they've come.

So when I have to deal with people who seem to wallow in the "me, me, me" and "I want.." of childhood (& childish) behaviour, I like to imagine they're like my kids in the "before" photo.

Hopefully, I may live long enough to also see them in the "after" shots as well. But, for some, I doubt it. Its as if these kids just never grow up.

Now, what do I do with them?  In a work environment, should it be possible to say "you know what? This just isn't working for me. I'm not your parent, and I don't care to deal with this childish nonsense any longer."

Or, do we say, as the scriptures could suggest, "I forgive you 70 times 7 for the appalling tantrums you throw". Or, maybe its like the Fair Work Act and say "Final Warning, next black letter breach you're out!" (And what if its only a "grey letter" breach? )

Where's my role as an employer in helping a kid (no matter what age they are) to grow up?

Geez Solomon, where are you when we need you?

No, don't thank me.... no, really...( an essay/rant)

Sometimes I just don't get it. People, I mean. You think you've got them sorted out in your mind, you inderstand where they're coming from, and wham! - they leave you guessing again.

For the last few years (nearly 3, in fact) we've been looking after a couple of dogs for a friend. Well, she was the friend of a friend actually. She'd decided to accept a job in beautiful downtown Dubai, where the air is hot, the women are covered up, and you can (reputedly) make a great deal of money compared to here. So, I don't blame anyone who is capable of taking such a position from wanting to get on in life.

Anyway, this "friend" had a couple of dogs, (her "babies" she called them) and not much else to stop her from having a go at a Dubai stint. One thing led to another and we suddenly had two small dogs to look after, supposedly for 6 months.  No biggie.

Of course, that was until (not long after she'd gone) we got the email to say she'd accepted a longer contract and would probably be back in a year, maybe. (did I mention that she left the country (& her "babies") without offering to pay for any of their costs? we eventually asked for and received a regular payment of $25 per week to defray the fur-ball's costs - considering most kennels charge that much PER DAY PER DOG, I reckon she was doing OK.)

So, I'd pretty much resigned myself to the fact that we were now the "owners" of these mutts; certainly the dog pound to which they were taken every time they houdini'd their way out of our backyard and which smilingly charged me $65 "bail" to release them thought of me as their owner.

Suddenly, mid last year, we got a message that she was coming home, her contract was not being renewed. "She couldn't wait to get back to her "babies", she missed them so much!" (oh puhhlease)

And, on Christmas Eve, good to her promise, she arrived to collect them. She seemed surprised that the dogs didn't leap into her arms in recognition, but I put that down to the relatively small brains which small dogs have (logical really) and that their memories were too full of important things like, "how to get out of backyards","when to eat" and "when to bark for food (yep, 4am)".

We said our (no so tearful) goodbyes and I was happy to call it quits at that point.  Until last week.

Out of the blue, I got a phone call from the dog pound, with a polite lady telling me that one of the dogs had been found by an very caring person on the other side of town, and could I ring her to arrange to collect him? I had to convince her that despite my regular attendance at her facility to retreive said mutt, I was not in fact his owner, that she was back from OS, and I would be happy to put them in touch. (oh & could I be taken off their database please?)

So, I rang the lady who had found the dog, thanked her for her kindness, and assured her I'd get the real owner to contact her ASAP. I then spent the next HOUR trying to track the recently-returned-from-Dubai-owner down, leaving 2 voice messages for her to call me back. Eventually I sent her a text SMS with the phone number of the rescuer and hoped the message was getting through somehow.

Without any responses at all, I called the good samaritan who found the dog to update her, whereupon she told me that the owner had just left her place with the dog, thanks very much.

I'm writing this a week later & I still haven't heard from the owner.

Like I said, sometimes I just don't get it. Maybe I should get another dog - they're easier to understand.

Naked Christmas

The week of Christmas started well enough. I got involved with a great group of people to help put together a community carols event in the outdoors. It was a beautiful fine night and hundreds of folks from the local area came out to sit on their blankets and sing Christmas Carols and generally get in the mood for Christmas. The whole thing had a warm, caring feel about it.

A couple of days later, I went out and sang some more Carols in a few local houses for shut-in elderly people and some folks with disabilities. I played notes on my guitar which I'm pretty sure have never been played  in those songs before, in keys which were sometimes not suitable for a diverse group of singers (of mixed ability!) but our audiences seemed to really enjoy it. One of them celebrated our performance by taking all his clothes off! I can honestly say that its the first time anybody reacted to my musical efforts in such a way, let alone the new slant it gave me on "Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer". Later on, it made me think about what goes through my head when I listen to music - try it sometime, its a hard question to answer, I reckon.

A few days after that, Christmas was upon us. Things started quietly enough, cos our kids are not so excited about ripping wrapping paper off gifts as they once were. Then of course, we needed to get to church, and that, as usual, resulted in raised voices, tension, and the inevitable 4/5 of the family sitting in the driveway idling the car while we waited for the last 1/5 to be ready. I was somewhat surprised then, that we actually managed to be early as we pulled into the street where our local church sits.

I was also surprised when a car raced out of the shopping centre across our path, nearly causing an accident with another car coming in the opposite direction. I was then REALLY surprised by the appearance of a completely naked woman who also crossed our path and started running down the street. Christmas Day obviously means different things to different people, but till now I wasn't familiar with the tradition which involves running through your suburb with no clothes on. Clearly something was not right, and my wife and I got out of our car and gave chase, to see if we could offer some help.

The woman was quite dis-oriented, distressed and confused. My wife was able to convince her to sit down in a bus shelter and (eventually) put on the shirt which the guy in the other car had thrown out his window. (still don't know what his connection to this really is...). I rang the police and eventually a couple of female PCs and paramedics arrived to help out. This poor woman, maybe in her 30s, was so confused, it took sometime to even get her name, but slowly she was able to provide information for the police to check their records to start piecing together her story.

When it was clear that she was now safe, and I'd provided a detailed statement to the police, we left to go back to church. It turns out she'd been reported as a missing person FOUR days prior. Where had she been? What had happened to her in the meantime? We may never know.

Singing Christmas Carols in church that morning was more lilke an out of body experience - the events of the previous hour or so seemed quite surreal.

At lunchtime on Christmas day, for the second year in a row, we got involved with a large charity organization which provides a community meal for disadvantaged folks in the inner city. A mate of mine introduced us to the idea last year, and we found it to be a strangely liberating experience. Not concerned by "whose place will we have Christmas at?" this opportunity is a truly pleasurable bit of work experience. And for us well-fed, middle class types who pretty much know where our next meal and bed is, the chance to simply provide some folks who rarely have that certainty with a smile, a friendly word and a hearty (in fact, delicious!) meal is a real privilege.

I'm also wracked with admiration for the people who've made it their life's business to do this work all the time. I'd urge you to support them and the FoodBank charities in your city if you can.

Later that day, we caught up with friends and did the usual "eat, drink & be merry" Christmas thing. As we did though, I was challenged by the chewiness of the day- the normal Christmas vibe I'd known probably my whole life was somehow changing.

First there was our naked carol singer friend, living in the moment and simply revelling in the joy of it all. Then there was the tragic (still unfolding) story of the woman running naked through the streets, chasing or maybe being chased by her own demons. And then, there was the paradox of 250 homeless people gathered in the centre of the metropolis eating a sumptuous feast, constructed from the unwanted excess food from countless supermarkets.

It did strike me that the person for whom we celebrate Christmas, Jesus of Nazareth, might not think twice about these things at all. 

Go figure.