The tradgedy of modern discontent...

Phoebe and I have recently begun reading ‘Farmer Boy’, a book written by Laura Ingles Wilder about the childhood of her husband Almanzo. It’s charming, set in the 1860’s and like all the Little House on the Prairie books, is based on real events and deals with the day to day functioning of the family and the interplay of the members. Reading about the processes that they used to engage in to survive and prosper in those days makes me feel like I’m displaced in this age.
Relative to the Ingles, the Wilder family were financially well to do, but the overriding message that comes across is the importance of solid family support structures, systems, principles and roles. Underpinning their resilient and spiritually rich lives are loving and respectful behaviours, in turn supported by rules and expectations of the children’s conduct and adopted values enabling a strong sense of self worth, place, heritage and privilege.
Daile and I yearn for these simple way points in our lives, and those of all the kids. Obviously I’m long enough in the tooth to know that things are not all good, or all bad, but I wish that I could have been alive in those days, when time was measured in seasons and natural rhythms rather than hours and minutes, when parsimony was valued above economic output, when generalists were valued as much as specialists, and when dare I say it, there was at least in principle the concept of honourable behaviour over profitable behaviour. Corporations were not yet in full swing, being a recent invention on the back of the industrial revolution, and wouldn’t get ‘personhood’ for another 20 years in the states. Principles held sway over profit and those who dealt dishonestly were pariah’s rather than pillars of society. Having said that, it was in 1865 that the thirteenth amendment was ratified in the US and slavery was finally abolished during Lincoln’s tenure after the Southern States seceded from the union on the threat of it, resulting in the civil war and over half a million deaths. It’s hard to imagine these days that the President was a man of principle first and an adroit politician second. When was the last time they had one of those?
I would love for some of the old concepts of thrift and utility to be more venerated in our modern society, so that craft and being in touch with natural materials and working with the land rather than against it were understood and supported philosophical positions. We need to achieve a harmonious or at least a less discordant relationship with the environment that supports us, and still has to support our kids and their families.

Those who appreciate this are left with the displaced hollow feeling that I have when they read of times gone where it was still possible to avoid the corrosive blandishments of an entire culture hell bent on retailing everything under the sun as if everything under the sun had a price and someone to buy it.
By the time most of our kids are in their teens they will have fully internalised the idea that they are not expected to actually produce anything themselves, but find satisfaction in the products of industrial society – even scoffing at anything homemade. They will almost universally think that fun is synonymous with alcohol and consumption in general, that they should be satisfied with a passive life and a minimum level of personal significance or sense of self, (with corresponding rises in teen neurosis). By the time they are ‘useful members of society’ they will see our natural heritage in terms of ‘productivity’, ‘yield’ and ‘economic value’, will view those who sit on the periphery of mainstream thinking as ‘weird’ and those who don’t aspire towards the trappings of industrial society as mildly amusing eccentrics.

By the time they reach middle management positions those views will have hardened in many, so that they will not feel (or at least will be numb to feelings) any guilt in ‘flicking’ (firing) an honest man because he’s not motivated to bust his guts in a soulless job that has no meaning other than a means to pay for the food and shelter that he can no longer extract for himself through husbandry of the land that we all inherited.

Ah, I know it’s not all bad, but it’s hard to read books like that, and not hanker for the simplicity and raw life giving and taking hardships that made you or broke you against nature itself, rather than the sucker punch of marketing machines the size of small countries.

It’s not that long ago after all that we were all living off the land, and it was that way for millennia. I guess it’s not surprising that the yearning for it seems so natural, it’s genetic programming. It’s in your genes, not your jeans.

Something for nothing...

Ever since contemplating the prospect of working in the West End, I've been looking for a small car to do the commute with. I looked at several Daewoo Matiz's, which is an 800cc car that does a fantastic mpg, before I finally went for a Diahatsu Charade. Both companies no longer exist in the Australian car market but owners are still supported for parts by Holden and Toyota respectively.

It's interesting really that in these times of rising fuel prices, the mandate for economical cars has not really been taken up in any really significant way in Australia and most cars here are either the 4wd variety with large and inefficient engines, or just big comfortable cars generally with large and inefficient engines. 5 litre (or bigger) engines are common here, and a large proportion of cars I see on the way to work sitting in traffic, averaging between 15 and 40 mph are fitted with these kinds of units.

The Pajero is also very common and has a 3 litre v6. Despite this, it's unquestionably underpowered, is very heavy and is like driving a tank. OK, it'll go anywhere, but it's not a sports car if you know what I mean. You really don't get much acceleration. Neither do you get much economy. I find that if I put $80 of fuel in on Monday and use it for the 60km daily commute, I'm looking to get more by Friday morning. The Charade by contrast is astonishing, even by UK standards. I put $30 of fuel in (filled it up) last Friday and then Daile did two trips to Brisbane central at the weekend and I've done the whole week in it and it's still got something left. So that's $460kms. I'm getting something like 60 to 65 mpg. But the amazing thing is that it's no slouch... it'll go to 100 mph and accelerates to 60mph in 12 seconds which is (according to what I've read) about the same as Renault Clio for example. Awesome! (As Bill says!... ha ha) Alright, it's a bit like driving a tin can, but it's dry, has great air con/heating, has 4 seats and electric windows, all the useful stuff like the internal light coming on when you take out the ignition key and a pretty passable CD player. You can smile when you go to the gas station and as you sit shoulder to shoulder with other cars in the crawl into town, you can content yourself with the thought that NON of the cars around you are as economical as this one. Not even the Daewoo can beat it.

Snake gets mouthfull...

Today I got some pics from Aiden's Mum Peta about the robot competition that I mentioned a little while back. They were a team of five. Two girls doing the mouse and two girls and a boy doing the snake, or two boys and a girl if you're truthful to Matilda's inner being. So here you can see the Tild ... wondering if she should have gone for both socks the same colour or not....
... and the snake is having a quick walk-a-bout the 'dance floor' as it's called.



...and here the snake is going in for the kill....



... come to daddy...!



GOTCHA!



After the 'dance' they had to explain their 'workings'....



They got first place! Here's the dastardly duo...



One member of the snake team, Lisa, wasn't there as she'd moved to NSW the week before the competition. Matilda and Aiden were adamant that she must have a medal too, so that's the extra one that Matilda is holding.



Bless!

Happy days...

Last weekend, we did a bit of repairing of the dolls house that Dad made for Molly. Phoebe had been inspired by the one that Holly has pictures of on the family DropBox site. This Saturday a wonderful box of dolls house fillings in the shape of chopping boards, vases, sweets and various goodies turned up from Gannie and Grandpa. She was over the moon.

Here's a couple of pictures of us making some primitive furniture (by comparison with the stuff Dad made) and you can see the fence that we made last week too, not finished at this stage.





I also made a little sword and scabbard for the Tild, and whilst that was happening, she made herself a shield from scrap out of the trailer... a common source for her since that's where I sling out my router offcuts etc before doing a dump run every now and then. It was so heavy though that she had to hold it up partially with her leg... ha ha. Bless.







This weekend we had Luis over, and Phoebe was over at Lilly's. As is often the way when we have other children staying, the box is on quite a bit more. I'm not sure why that is... but it is.
When this happens I have two choices; one I can go out, or two I can put headphones on.

Over the years since we first got a TV in Beresford Ave when I was probably about 9 or 10... I guess I've just become more and more jaded by their 'rootin'-tootin' effort of gaining and keeping the audience's attention by presenting everything as 'WOW' and 'I'm so excited to be telling you this really boring thing about Johnny Popstar/Barbielicious/SneerySpoilt-a-Lot/Wifeswat/What to wear/say/eat/fart or Bobby trousers round the ankles (MP)/Egocentric-Vs-Lying Swivel-eyed-twofaced-'Git'stionTime. When you have cable TV, as for some reason we do, you get to pay extra for all this. In particular, your delicate and impressionable prodgeny can see things such as 'Disney Channel' or 'Nickelodeon' which are euphomisms for 'a comprehensive and ceasless demonstration of how to behave like a selfish, self-obsessed, whining, spoilt teenager (I cleaned that sentence up!)' This instructional programming helps with all manner of dysfunction, much like a petri dish full of shit helps with bacteria. This morning, I sat, barely able to contain my disgust with the regularity that the kids recieved the subliminal instruction to 'laugh'. Over a ten minute period, there was one and a half minutes of canned laughter. Given that the average insertion of laughter lasts about a second and a half, that's an instruction to laugh on average every 7 seconds. It's utterly mindless! It's SO mindless, that hardly anyone seems to notice it at all. But once you're aware of it, it's like someone sitting by your shoulder in a quiet room, eating crunchy cereal with their mouth open.

So I took them out... for my sake.

We went to the climbing wall. It was Luis's first time, and he was a little nervous but he did well, getting to the top of several of his climbs. Matilda had, in preparation for the day, ground up a load of chalk from somewhere (probably out of my workshop!) and put it in a little tin. I told her that she'd really need it to be in a bag on her belt, since it's a bit tricky to open a tin when you're hanging on with your fingertips. The girl who was in charge of the wall today, said that she felt that Tild was a natural climber, and stood watching her for ages. When she came down, she fitted her out with climbing shoes and a chalk bag! Ha... Tild was made up! It's true, you're left with a broad smile when you watch her going up.. it's like watching a spider, she's so sure of her grip.

We also made some shields (that were light) and a sword for Luis to match the sword that I made for Matilda last week. They spent the rest of the day beating the bejesus out of each other.. MUCH better than watching the TV!