Australia

My head-on crash saved my life

/ beaumontmichael / 1 Comment

About six or seven years ago I was riding my scooter down the highway and had a collision with a car. The driver tried to cross the dual carriageway without checking to his right first. It was not quite a head on, but my scooter was firmly wedged under his front wheel and I was thrown through the air, clipping the top corner of his windscreen and tumbled through the air and bounced down the road.

I won’t say it was graceful, it was probably more pathetic in terms of its gymnastic qualities, but all in all, I finished up with a beaten up knee some sore ribs and a bit of mental bruising. When you are beetling down the highway at the allowed speed, you just don’t expect to have a car on the left of the road, pull out straight across you.

A hospital visit and a few months of physio and my body was set to healing, but my mind was struggling. With my leg in a brace I could not ride so I became a passenger in my bride’s car. I feared every parked car and every merging vehicle, particularly those that may not have followed the prescribed best practice for merging. I quickly became a screecher as I loudly abused drivers to the left and right at every intersection. At my bride’s behest I got some counselling.

At the end of the first visit with the counsellor we had pretty much dealt with the stupid driver and the accident and then for the next five weeks we set about putting the rest of the world to rights. My family, my workmates, my history, the whole bag of cats I had whirling around in my head. It was the most relieving process. The expression “a weight off my shoulders” has never been more solidly true.

It took several more months of thoughtful consideration before I can truly say that I had most of my demons sorted, but it was only six visits to the counsellor. I would not hesitate to steer people down that path for help. For me, that nasty road accident gave me the opportunity to alter the path of my life.

6 Things I wish I knew in High School

/ beaumontmichael / 1 Comment

1. You don’t have to be liked by everyone
It’s a simple fact of life that no-one is universally loved. Even people who spend their entire life helping others, have some people who don’t like them. Understand that, and you can just get on being who you are and developing good skills and character traits that will stand you in good stead for the rest of your life. Trying to impress everyone, is not one of those.

2. You will grow
When I went to High school, my nickname was “mouse”, and not because I liked cheese. I was so late to hit puberty that when I left year twelve (or 6th form as it was in the olden days) I was still under 5 ft tall. Far and away the shortest person in the year. It would have been really cool to know that one day, I was going to grow tall enough to be average height. Growing is not just about height of course. Back then I didn’t read books, principally because it was pretty much all that my big sister ever did, and I didn’t want to do anything she did. (I know, not a great reason) These days it is not uncommon for me to read three or four books a week.

3. The timetable is everything
One of the things that really doesn’t change much from the school environment to the work environment is that the clock controls most things, and being on time, where you are meant to be, is a great start to anything you do. Who was it that said 80% of winning is turning up? Throughout High school I never really understood my timetable. Consequently I rarely met expectations around timeliness and productivity. I spent the last twenty minutes of every class anxious about where I was meant to be next. Lets face it, if you don’t know where you are going, you are going to miss a lot of opportunities. Flying by the seat of your pants teaches you a range of skills that are useful, but they are no substitute for making the most of every second you are alive.

4. Teachers know some things.
That doesn’t mean they know everything, which was one of the sources of my discontent at school. i have always challenged authority, some school teachers really struggled with that. However if I had spent a little more time listening and a little less time challenging, I would have understood that you do not need to be a ninja master to be a worthy teacher.

5. The more you read, the easier it gets.
This is a bit of a tough one. I have already told you why I didn’t read while I was at school, but I am pretty confident that I also struggled to read at a pace that was sufficient to make it enjoyable. Ivy ou practice reading, there is a lot of information that is then at your fingertips. It allows you to read not only your text books, but also texts that challenge the established point of view. This surely is what education should be all about. The more you read, the faster you read, the more enjoyable it becomes and so on. I font wonder if there were authors like Matthew Riley around when i was young, if I may have taken up the habit at a more helpful age.

6. She will marry you and no other
This piece of information would have saved me an awful lot of heartache.

Men only

/ beaumontmichael / 1 Comment

Men are obstinate bastards. I know because I am one of them. We dig our heels in over stupid things, take positions on things we know little or nothing about and then defend the stance like we were the first to put words to it. We say “I know” when the truth is we are guessing. We run hard with stuff we “think” rather than finding some evidence, and sometimes we get a scrap of evidence without checking its real or sufficient.

I think it’s great to have opinions, anyone who knows me will tell you I have one on just about everything. My bride once threatened to buy me a T-shirt that said “Often wrong- never in doubt”. Having put up with me for thirty years, I guess it was the accumulated weight of 10,000 days of my obstinance that caused her to squeal with delight when she chanced upon the printed shirt in an online catalogue.

I do not have many male friends. I work in a male dominated environment and that may play a part. I prefer the company of women, they just behave better than most men. I know it’s a generalisation but there you go, see, Ive done it again.

If a woman is driving lost she has no qualms about stopping to ask for directions, but blokes would prefer not to ask and keep driving perhaps compounding the situation. They get themselves out of trouble with this technique just often enough to convince themselves that the petrol wasn’t wasted at all, it was an activity closely related to sightseeing really.

I have no idea where the obstinance stems from either. I belong to a generation that very much believes in the equality of women, but it seems they are not sharing the obstinance load. Sure you see it from time to time, but it’s not at plague proportions like is for us. I am waiting to see if the obstinance factor is handed down to the next generation at the same level of intensity. Certainly the generation before mine has it in spades, and my generation is all over it, so it will be interesting to see if it starts to fade away.

In the archive at work we have a store of magazine dating back to the 60’s and the “letters to the editor” section has revealed to me that the old guys in the 60’s mainlined the trait. Some of their letters were so outrageous, it had me wondering if the editor published them just to make fun of them.

It is not an attractive trait either. I have decided to make a concerted effort to be more flexible in my thinking and approach to the world, to ask for help before I think I need it and to not spend as much time being lost. It was Tolkien who said, “Not all who wander are lost”, he wasn’t talking about me.

Wild dreams and imaginings

/ beaumontmichael / 1 Comment

I was lucky enough to grow up with Meccano. My parents gave me a small set for Christmas one year and I think I may have stolen the rest. Perhaps I was given it as hand me downs, or borrowed it, but I did seem to gather quite a bit of it, in used condition (which was better than the new stuff I always thought) so I well may have stolen it from friends and relatives.

I spent so many hours building useless things with it I can’t even begin to add them up. I do not recall building anything of note, not a single useful thing, not a can opener or an opening bridge or a beach buggy, not even a crane which seemed to be all the rage in those days. I do however remember the social impact my playing with Meccano had.

Mostly because I was lazy, I did not put things away. Meccano is one of those toys made up of hundreds if not thousands of tiny pieces that can play havoc with a vacuum cleaner and even worse, rip holes in socks or even worse just stick into you like a splinter. Tiny bolts and nuts and cogs all of which could have been designed in some sort of bizarre housework torture chamber.

My mother was driven mad with me getting half way through building something monumental then walking away, with thousands of tiny odd-shaped pieces of steel strewn through the room. Or better yet, if I felt it was something really important I had to build I may have taken over the kitchen table or the surrounding floor, inconveniencing the maximum number of people.

So I have a vivid memory of people either asking me to remove it, or tidy it up or screaming at me because they had a piece imbedded in their foot because I had left it lying on the floor. It was difficult to know who was to blame really, clearly I blamed the Meccano, but I was flying solo there.

I remember swapping Meccano pieces with friends, all of whom were much more accomplished builders and engineers than I. Which is also perhaps where I get the idea that I may have pocketed more than the pieces that were offered in the exchange process. My negotiation and procurement skills were pretty strong even if my building skills let me down.

Meccano was probably the electronic game equivalent of today, it was time-consuming, absorbing and at best provided real skills while at worst was just a way of removing oneself from reality. I still find myself from time to time imagining feats of engineering that need to be built and then grinding them out in my head using imaginary Meccano pieces, usually arriving at the point of understanding or the aha moment with the realisation “so thats why that is impossible and has never been built.”

The other thing Meccano provided me with was a bookmark or marker. My life after Meccano and my life with it. My life with Meccano was full of envy and longing for other sets and pieces. Full of unsettling moments when my dreams didn’t quite match my capabilities. Full of moments where I unveiled my latest and greatest build to indifference and familial contempt. With my limited view of the world it was entirely possible to build anything I could imagine, which most of the time was not much.

Post the toy engineering set, life was full of impossibilities and restrictions and hoops one had to jump through before being allowed to participate in the next stage. Dreams and imaginings had to be based in some sort of reality. At least I don’t have people yelling at me anymore, oh wait…

Note: Michael is the curator of the The Life Log Project in Sydney Australia. Helping people tell their life story.
Note: Michael is the curator of the The Life Log Project in Sydney Australia. helping people to tell their life story.

Who should pay for my children?

/ beaumontmichael

It is apparent that several politicians here in Australia believe that we should be paying for their children. With recent stories about pollies claiming for rock concert tickets for their children as legitimate expenses and business class air travel for holidays and special events. I have had a quick look at the makeup of the “independent” tribunal set up to have a look at politicians entitlements, and frankly I think there are too many politicians on the tribunal to give me any confidence that this will change substantially.

Ultimately we are responsible of course because we keep voting for them. It has often been said that we get the politicians we deserve. Uh oh.

I don’t know how many of you would have travelled in ‘business class’ when you were children, certainly not me. I have only done it once as an adult (and loved it). The idea that it is ok to have your children travel business class and have someone else pick up the tab, someone you do not know, is outrageous. I don’t care if it is within the rules, it is not OK, ok?

It is clear that several of our politicians need help in the “what is OK?” category, so I thought it might be useful if we came up with a test that they could use. Some might say that a test should be completely unnecessary and that pollies should just have a moral compass and exercise it. I may agree with that in principle, but it is quite clear that many don’t have one, and the ownership of one is rooted in the idea that pollies are like the rest of us. Clearly that is a leap in logic, a jump too far.

So what sort of test is reasonable? What about something like, “if I run it by the bloke at the local servo, and he says “you are kidding, right?” then that may work. Maybe it needs to be a little more ‘third person’ along the lines of “I know this guy, and he was thinking of taking a holiday with his kids and going to a live concert, and we were all going to travel business class, and then we were going to send the bill to someone else, but not tell them, what do you think? Would that be Ok?”

Then the politician could wait a while as the bloke at the servo loads his gun, or grabs a filleting knife, or whatever self-protection mechanism he has at his disposal behind the counter and brandishes it with menace.

Yeah I think that works better. Not even our thick-skinned, rudderless politicians could be in doubt about that.

Ultimately though, we are responsible. we keep turning up, we keep relying on the absurd party system in this country to select the best candidates and then we keep voting for these people. The very notion of putting my faith in either party is worrying me, a lot. As utterly annoying as this is though, it could be worse, we could be preparing to vote in the USA I guess.

Note. Michael is the curator of the Life Log Project in Sydney Australia. To learn more go to http://www.thelifelogproject.com.au

You never know what’s around the corner

/ beaumontmichael

In almost a decade in radio I had the pleasure of interviewing hundreds of interesting people. Sometimes it was challenging finding the newsworthy angle to the interview but it was never difficult to find the interesting bit. From time to time I got myself into hot water for pursuing the interesting bit at the cost of news but that was always fine with me. In fact it was that part that made it evident to me that I didn’t have what it took to be a journo.

In the decade that followed I interviewed dozens of interesting people, in my spare time, recording the talks, never really knowing why, maybe it would be a book, maybe it would be a podcast, but the stories were always amazing. In hindsight maybe it was partly me trying to discover where I fit into this mad,mad world. Whether my fears and struggles were legitimate when laid side by side with those of my peers and my superiors.

I interviewed survivors of World Wars, of family splits, of wrenching divorces and people who have spent their lives comfortably living lies while others spent their lives defending themselves because they told the truth. I have interviewed twins that were very similar and twins that looked identical and couldn’t possibly be more different. I have interviewed couples that almost got divorced mid interview and people who have cried in shame as they divulged a long-held secret.

As luck would have it, I now do this for a living. I have turned this wonderful craft into a business. The Life Log Project records stories for people who want or need to share them with others. I have recorded parents setting the record straight for their children, siblings explaining things, ageing patriarchs trying to explain the past and matriarchs recounting family tales and history.

The Life Log Project is the conduit through which generations are able to communicate and engage. The recordings are given to the family and them alone. They can share them with whom they wish. None of us really knows what’s around the corner, and though we would probably all like to think we will live to old age, it doesn’t always work out that way.

Many families also struggle with the gift for an older family member. Being told “your story is valuable to us, we would like to record it for our history” is pretty special, and a great gift for the entire family.

Footnote: You can find out more at the website http://www.thelifelogproject.com.au

Ah the critics.

/ beaumontmichael

I shied away from writing for about thirty years following my formal education. Every time I put pen to paper, or fingertips to the keyboard, every bad memory of my horrible schooling came rushing back to me.

As part of my new job (a decade ago), I was required to write a regular monthly article for the trade magazine, which I approached with great trepidation initially. Having come from radio and before that my life as an auctioneer, I had no problem talking, but writing, wow, that was a whole new adventure. I realise now that this is a classic chicken and egg thing, because i didn’t want to write I had to hone my speaking skills, so no shock that I finished up in gigs that didn’t require writing right?

Having served my writing apprenticeship after three or four years I found the constraints of writing a monthly trade article (effectively toeing the company line) just too restricting and I found myself looking for other opportunities to express myself.(I know, get me!)

I then began writing a newsletter, sent electronically as a subscription service to the very same people who were readers of the magazine. It started from just my email list of about 60 people, soon I had 1200 subscribers. So far so good. I was able to be cheekier than the monthly corporate article and have a little fun along the way. Then I got an email out of the blue, from someone who was not a subscriber, giving me advice that I had not requested, none of which was complimentary.

It went something like this “who do you think you are? what arrogance, opinionated, childish dribble etc” My immediate reaction was one of shame and disappointment. My gut reaction was exactly that, physical and forceful, it felt like I had got all of this wrong, and let people down by publishing my thoughts and ideas. I went straight back to that time in school when the teacher was handing out yesterday’s test results.

Then, as my gut reaction calmed, I had another look at it. He wasn’t a subscriber, no-one was forcing him to read the newsletter. In fact he had to go out of his way to read it. Why then would someone go to that extra effort, and then be critical of the author? And even more than that, why would you bother to get personal and send it to the author? Are people really that mean and keen to hurt?

After some consideration, I concluded that, yes indeed some people are that mean. In this world in which we live there are mean, cruel people hell-bent on destruction. People without a moments care for the ramifications of their appalling behaviour. They feel it is their divine right to be critical and no fear for the collateral damage. The real issue then is, for me, should I listen to them?

Should I have sleepless nights worrying that I am not doing the right thing by writing? Do I really write childish drivel? Should I just hit the delete button on his email? Should I write back to him giving him both barrels or perhaps apologising for wasting his oh-so-valuable time? Should I give it another thought? Well that last question is an easy one, of course I was going to think about it some more.

I have in the past been guilty of catastrophising and then relying heavily on my bride to supply perspective in matters of these kinds or whenever I feel that I may have lost objectivity. So, back to the well I went and asked for her honest opinion. She told me that my writing had improved out of sight and was now fun to read. As a fully paid up member of the “Harsh but fair” party, she wouldn’t lie to me about stuff like that. So I decided to take on board the input that my writing style was not for everyone, but was sufficiently popular to keep going.

I tell this tale because most people who know me, may be surprised that the foul words of someone I have never met would upset me or indeed have any effect on me at all. But they did. So I would ask you to be considerate when complaining. Which means have a little think about it before you do it. That’s all.

Footnote: Michael is the Curator of The Life Log Project. A commercial operation based in Sydney Australia that helps people tell their story, captured on digital media for the benefit of future generations. For more information on the service check out http://www.thelifelogproject.com.au

Building tennis teams

/ beaumontmichael / 2 Comments

As a long distance observer, it seems to me that Davis Cup success and Tennis Australia are at the cross roads. Perhaps they are even past that point and now heading in opposite directions. We recently played Kazakstan (who knew that even had tennis players?) in Darwin on grass and came very close to having our pants lowered. Now I am not saying the Darwin’s grass courts are not the epicentre of tennis in Australia nor am I inferring that we played there because nowhere else in the country would have given a damn, or even that Tennis Australia decided to play there because it gave us a distinct advantage, (surely not).

The dislike that our 23 ranked player Bernard Tomic publicly displayed for the organisation resulted in his removal from the team. Probably a good thing too as it gave him just enough time to become famous in Miami for paying too much for a hotel room that magically transforms into a jail cell. All of which must have made the gurus at Tennis Australia feel grand indeed.

I think there is a bigger play here though. We had great success in the Davis Cup in the era before the pros and then again in the early days of professionalism. Frankly we weren’t much good at any other team sport and certainly not any that involved balls. In those heady days we also had more than our fair share of players inside the top ten. Back then to help us along a little, backyards were often filled with tennis courts and every farm had one, and tennis courts were not littered across the four corners of the globe as they are now. (who would have thought it?)

So history aside, now we have a bunch of highly paid professionals, some of whom are clearly not capable of looking after themselves, that require more than just a ‘nice guy’ that looks great in undies, to give them assistance. Building a team in this era, as anyone that has done it recently will tell you, has its own unique set of challenges.

Add to that the money, the bloated egos and the lack of understanding of the scale of the exercise and it is no surprise to me that it is not coming together beautifully. Team building in Australia is different to (most of) the rest of the world. Particularly at the pointy end of sport, and particularly with the addition of Gen Y.

I cringe when I hear the older generation say that “this would never happen in Harry Hopman’s day” because while it is true, I really can’t imagine Mr Tomic and Mr Hopman having much to say to one another. I can only imagine what the reaction might be to the suggestion of a quick run up a few sand dunes. At least Darwin is well situated for that little beauty. No, Harry is not the answer.

Tennis Australia should ship in Ray McLean and his troops. If you have not had the opportunity to read his books, I recommend them to anyone in Australia involved in team-building. I have used the philosophy both with my work team and the sporting teams that I work with and the systems and processes work. Without giving too much away, Ray is like a modern-day version of Harry Hopman, in that he thinks differently to everyone else and has bought his own brand along with him. He has done for AFL what Harry did for tennis.

Ray developed his skills working with the Air Force developing teamwork in mission-critical scenarios. There is nothing quite like taking life and death training and then honing that experience for work in team sport. As many a team coach will tell you, winning isn’t life or death, it’s much more important than that. Good luck Tennis.

The retail warehouse quality help inverse ratio

/ beaumontmichael

I have recently been shopping for dog stuff. With a new puppy in the house after a long break, we need all the usual stuff. Baskets, beds, chew toys, leads, collars and a smattering of impulse purchases that I will no doubt regret. Fortunately for me, close to where I live is a range of pet warehouse retail opportunities.

I have visited them all more than once. I have noticed however, that the amount of help available anywhere other than at the counter seems to be in short supply and when it is available the willingness of the person to help is in inverse proportion to their knowledge base. So if they know nothing, they are very willing and if they know lots, then you can’t find them.

It seems that the way to get the information you need is to stand in a queue at the front counter, preferably in front of someone struggling to hold all the 20 kilo bags of dry food they are buying for their menagerie, and then stop and have a lengthy chat with the person serving.

While all of this is probably acceptable somewhere, it is not working for me. I feel way too guilty holding up the line, so I wont line up and then chat, and when I walk around the warehouse I can’t find anyone that knows anything. Consequently I have purchased a range of things based on the advice of someone who clearly (as it turns out) knows less than I do.

The only thing left to do is to come up with a name for the retail ratio. Perhaps the Warehouse help ratio fits best, hardly very inventive though, what do you think?

Letter to my children

/ beaumontmichael / 1 Comment

About twenty years ago my mother died of a Cerebral Haemorrhage. No warning, no planning no goodbyes. About ten years ago my father died of lung cancer, this was a long lingering farewell. Though both events were incredibly sad, the hole left by someone dying suddenly is difficult to fill in a way that is impossible to explain and beyond compare.

Shortly after the death of my mother I put pen to paper and wrote a letter to each of my two sons. The letter was my farewell, though I had no intention of going anywhere. It was really difficult to write and I cried several times as I scratched my way over the keyboard in my three finger typing style.

The letters contained messages of love and friendship and my dreams for each of them and a few short stories about them growing up. They included short stories of when they made me particularly proud and some advice for each of them.

My two boys are completely different, both beautiful caring strong sensitive young men with their difference best summed up by saying one of them gets anxious if he doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring and the other is always seeking something different for tomorrow. The letter writing gave me a sense of comfort knowing that if I were to bid a hasty departure from this life, my boys would have some conduit to their father. I wasn’t prepared for what happened next though.

Having taken the time to think about what I most wanted to say to each of them and what I felt was most important not to leave unsaid, (and they are two different things) I then began to act differently. Not hugely differently. Not so the family thought I had met-my-maker-in-a-stroke-or-heart-attack kind of a way. But differently none the less. I was more thoughtful, less reactive and much quieter. I began to be much more chilled out about them and their future. Which was nice for me and I’m sure was much more enjoyable for them too.

After all, as I said in my letter to them, above all else I wanted them to know the luxury of having been unconditionally loved by someone and to feel happiness. Neither of these things will be more likely to happen by me fussing about it.

Little did I know at the time that this correspondence would be the precursor for my business some fifteen years later. The Life Log Project helps people do this in a modern way using high quality audio recording. Of course the log can be used for lots of other things too. I have produced logs for people who wanted their families to know things after they had died, to explain divorces, to explain choices, to shine a light on an event or just to supply a delightful back story for the sake of posterity.

What I have noticed is the effect is has on people after they have committed to recording their inner most thoughts. They start to live them

Michael www.thelifelogproject.com.au