Is it a bird?...Is it a plane?...No! It's my Dad!

Sunday, July 3, 2022 – Checking emails over my first cuppa of this chilly winter morning – reading that a new Vocal Challenge is up – “I love it! Gotta get movin’ on this one...This is gonna be a bloody breeze!’ I thought to myself. But, responsibilities beckon, get the basics done first though – you know ‘a woman's work is never done’ and all that shit. So, first things first, finish my smoke and then flick the kettle on for the second time this morning (approximately 5 minutes to story time!!! Soooo excited!!!). Ok, while that's doin’ its bubble and boil thingy, daily chores, here we go, I load the washing machine and start the eco quick cycle – Check! Load Dishwasher, start eco cycle (do you see a pattern here - I do care about the environment and our energy usage you know -dad always said to keep an eye on our carbon footprints and how much energy we consume ...”there’ll be wars over water and energy one day”) – Check! Spray ‘n’ Wipe ‘Labitchen’ – now I should explain very quickly what this means – we’re in the throes of building our home, so, in the shed at the moment we have a combined Laundry, Bathroom and Kitchen...you see what we did there ?...(clink) Yep, there it is, I heard the penny drop – you get it now. So anyway, on the kitchen bench sits my Darth Vadar mug that says ‘I like my coffee on the dark side’ (yeah, had to share that with ya, a little chuckle for you all at my expense, thank you very much), complete with 2 sugars and a lipton teabag hanging out waiting to steep – Check! Change out of the pj’s - Check!. Got my Star Wars fluffy socks on – Check!. Star Wars tracky-daks -Check! Fave black scarf – Check! ‘And tharrrr she blowwws!’, (hehehe...) sorry everyone, forgive me, I couldn't help it, it’s my slightly warped sense of humour getting the best of me – that's just what goes through my head every time the kettle boils. As I pour boiling water over my teabag this is what I do...‘(breathing out) Kssshhh, – (breathing in) Kssshhh, - and repeat - Kssshhh, Kssshhh’ – again, my giggles are getting the better of me this morning – that's what I do each time I fill up my Darth Vadar Mug...I know, I'm incorrigible...I blame it on my dad – his sense of humour really is first rate – in my eyes anyway!...just ask my friends about the shit that he used to tell us all about when he was a kid...I swear, we all held our bellies from laughing so much it hurt! Ok, back to getting writing ready to tell you a story about my dad...but which one??? Hmmm...

With chores done, hot Darth in my right hand, smokes and lighter in my jacket pocket, iPad and iPhone clutched under my left arm, glasses perched on top of my ponytail, my red light-sabered left leg (if you haven't already figured it, I’m a total Vadar fan – again, dad’s fault – took me to see all the Star Wars movies – startin’ in ‘79 of course!) nudges the bus door open (quick side note for you - the bus – our mobile sanctuary and den of iniquity – as Dazz – hubby that looks ALOT like George Clooney, and I refer to our beloved bus’s interior – our home until the solid version is finished.). I plop myself down in my comfy writing chair, roll a smoke, turn on the monitor, flick the HP tower on, take a sip from Darth...swallow, drag, exhale...this is the next 2 minutes of my life, laid out before you…

So my friends, welcome to the journey through my mind... If you’re game, get in, sit down, shut up and above all else – hang on! I make this disclaimer for you all this morning, for your own safety and well-being - I can’t guarantee that shit isn't gonna get real. Just givin’ you all a heads up...so, without further ado, lets get this bad-boy story underway ...this is it, this is the time to get down and dirty with it – seriously friends, this is not a trip for the faint-hearted…

Me, sitting in front of the tv/monitor, keyboard on my lap...not dissimilar to my remembered visions of my dad when I was a kid and dad working from home over any given weekend, only his time infront of the pc also included droppin’ that sonofabitch onto the floor if the old floppy disk got jammed – if that didn’t get it workin’ again – it was a throw-away item – “Junk I tell you!!!” he would say and have a chuckle to himself that nobody built computers like they used to – and that my friends was 40 years ago!...I dare not let him near my HP or my beloved ‘Apples’ today!!!. Oh, the humanity!!! Definitively a big fat no to my dad being an electrician, IT guy or Software Engineer...

3...2...1...We are go for writing!...Alright, the grey matter just clunked from neutral into drive and we’re ready to depart the brain station. Breathe in, breathe out and repeat... open and launch my story files, click to create a new word document, go through the motions to get my title page up….fingers on the keyboard…ready to type and...5...8...37 minutes later ….what happened to the ‘this should be sooooo easy, I love my dad, and there's sooooo much I want to share with you all – Super dad who helped shape me and make me realise very quickly that I live in a dog-eat-dog world – and if I wanted my Poinsettia or even my indoor Happy Plant to survive – hide the garden shears from him – his idea of pruning was to strip any plant to within an inch of its life – if it survived, in his words - ‘it was meant to be’…so, another big fat no, my dads not a gardener either, but he did encourage me to be able to garden a plant without needing to apply life support afterwards…

I kid you not my friends, so much to tell but which story should I share with you all...???

So I’m doing the only thing I can do...rolling another cigarette and sipping on my Darth-tea, yes, that's what my brain needs right now, something warm and relaxing to free up the memories....hmmm, typical, mentally swearing and cursing at myself – over-thinker!...over-achiever! – what you gonna do now smart girl...??? Nothin’ is happenin’...

I know, thinking back to my teens, get up and move around, do some quick stretches – get the blood pumping...just as dad always said...like when he used to take me to Gymnastics every other day for either training or a comp...he’d drive us overnight, across states etc...wherever, whenever...good ol’ reliable dad! He’d always be so encouraging that I could do anything I put my mind to...including that tricky Tsukahara...aaah, that painful day!...and literally the last time I ever competed...Oh well, them’s the breaks..literally! And after that he’d push the wheelchair into physio, week after week, month after month...but no complaining from my dad! What a champion! And for the record – he’s not a chauffeur or taxi-driver either, he said I had to adapt and overcome to getting around while recovering from my injuries – I had to be the only person I could count on. Didn’t matter the blisters on my hands or the chaffing in my raw armpits – if I complained he’d respond with a shrug and say “That’s all just part of the experience Shazz…” But you don’t want to hear about that...you want the real goss...the blood, the guts and the grease off the rod kinda story of my dad...right…?

So I'm just going to nick outside for a couple of minutes, wander around in the harsh glare of the brisk winter sunshine...and 'Why?' you may ask...well, to clear my thoughts – and if I’m going to remain completely transparent and truthful with you - I had to hang the washing out too as while I was rambling on to you all, I did hear the familiar little tune the machine chimes out when its finished...think elevator music and you’d not be far off. You could make yourself a cuppa or take this opportunity for a quick toilet break...I’ll be back in a few minutes…

Okay, I’m back and gotta say that really only accomplished 2 things, the first of which, was me actually hanging out all the washing without getting distracted by the kangaroos that were watching on from the shade of a tree roughly 20 metres from me – nah! I’m tellin’ a lie – I got distracted!...and secondly the reason for my distraction - I started to think of the time on my parents rural property in the Hunter Region of NSW – my dad had such a passion for all animals – he bred Angus beef cattle, raised 1000’s of heads of sheep, had dairy cows, his bulls had won best in show and were in high demand – but his fave little buddy was our dog ‘Sam’.- a little black frizzy-haired dog with a herculean attitude to life. Well, this one day on the farm, Sam had wandered off in the long grass, and when it was time to load up the cattle-truck ready to head back to the sheds on the other side of the farm. Sam was nowhere to be seen. We called and called – nothing. Dad was letting out the loudest whistles (he did teach me at a very young age to ‘wolf whistle’ in case I needed attention), he must've done this for a good 10 minutes, I could see dad was getting slightly ‘distressed’ – I mean, after all, Sam was our fluffy younger ‘brother’. ..and no family member was ever gonna be left behind – hooah! (little sidebar here - and no, for the record, dad never served himself but holds the utmost respect and awe for all that did and do. My pop, his dad did though, through WW2 – got his nipple shot off and sent home – ouch!). Well, I remember hearing a deep rumbling sound coming from over the hill and as I turned towards the sound, Dad grabbed my arm and was pushing for me to get in the cab. There was a huge plume of dust heading directly for us. There was lots of yelling and everyone was scrambling to get in the back of the truck. Louder and louder, the rumbling was coming through our boots on the ground. Once everyone was safely on the back, dad grabs his binoculars, his eyes just bugged out, he shouts “Jesus H Christ!!!...that little bastard!”, and over the hill towards us - comes a herd of approximately 300 Black Angus cows...stampeding!!! We had never seen Sam leap the way he did that day – over and over, his little black furry legs jumpin’ as high as he could, to see over the top of the long grass as to where we were and where his ‘Dad’ was...I turned to look at my dads face – the sheer terror had turned to an excitable and undeniable relief – he loved that little dog like no-one ever had before – dad scooped him up by the scruff of his neck, threw him in the truck and we made the hastiest retreat out of that paddock I can tell you!!! Yep, we all had to check our undies that day!

So, my dad...he’s no sparky, not a plumber either...he’s never climbed Everest...never donated a kidney to save me or anyone else for that matter and he’s definitely no doctor – he couldn't tell a pimple from a pumpkin! Dad’s never been arrested (that we know of..?!?)...never abused us...he blames his ‘gout’ on everything except his favourite wines (just cause the doctor told him so doesn’t make it true...)...he was a survivor of the 'Stolen Generation' – part of Australia’s dark history and he’s related to the Royal Family...he is an identical twin that actually hates his twin ( a rarity, I know)...member of the local astronomy club...he’s been rescued from a burning boat in the middle of the ocean...and hooked himself instead of the ‘giant one that got away’ (never let the truth get in the way of a good war-ry)...he’s driven himself to the ER with a foot full of blood-sucking leeches...and even flown himself – circumnavigated Australia – to get his pilots licence...but in reality, you don’t want to read about all that.

Me?...I love the hilarity and antics that make up the true essence of my dad and what I grew up with. So I’m going to share some of that with you.

Ok peeps, so as I’m sitting here in front of the pc, keys clicking away, my eyes behind my black googly 2x reading glasses, watching the little dots from my outdoor jaunt move over the screen as I shift my eyes left and right, and seeing my reflection in the monitor screen, I’m reminded of the times when I used to joke with my dad about how good my eyes were and that I didn't have to wear glasses like he does (I was a bitch of child at times – has anything really changed ??...don’t answer that!), or the time 40 years ago that as he was emptying out the last of the water from our in-ground swimming pool (that he designed himself – he did like to create stuff from time to time – like colour-changing cups and clothes – you remember those – 'Hyper-Colour' - heat and cold would change their colours and create the craziest patterns etc...well, my dad invented those!...Yep, gotta say I’m pretty proud of my dad...look, I’m getting distracted again...Sorry...)...the point being he wasn’t wearing his glasses when he shoulda been...just ask my mum, she’ll tell ya!!!... So he managed to catapult himself – hang on, let me paint the picture for you – the pool was a good 15 metres long, 10 metres wide, in the shape of a ‘B” with a waterfall and spa off the left side top of the ‘B’. It was such a cool pool! Every man, woman, child and the odd dog or two had spent many a hot summers day, and many evenings taking a cool dip at our place. Mum and Dad had decided it was time to re-tile and paint the interior concrete of the pool. Preparations were made, dad set about draining and cleaning the pool - it took a week for him to be finished, thus leaving two days to be completely dry, ready for the workmen to start in two days time. Well, lo and behold, Mother Nature had other ideas, ‘she’ must’ve seen the empty pool and decided to open her skies to ‘refill’ our pool – free of charge! Wasn't she sweet..?!?! And of course, to my dads absolute horror and despair, meant he had to drain the pool again, damn!...I don’t know how he did it, he held his shit together, he went outside every time he needed to blow off the proverbial steam - and yep, let me just tell you right now, it was as colourful as it gets – especially back in the early 80’s...I learnt a whole lotta new words at the end of that summer to share with my buddies and look up in the dictionary at school. No internet, the world wide web or Google searches back then! That there is a pure unadulterated raw education my friends!!!

So, that fateful day...here we go, hang on kids cause the gore is comin’...without further adieu… Dad said there was only about 6 inches of water left in the bottom of the pool (which probably equated to about 2000 litres of water) and if we all worked together we could have that bad-boy empty by the end of the day. But as us 3 kids – 7, 10 and me – 12, were not nearly as fast or as efficient as what he would’ve liked. So he came up with an idea that he thought would be a marketable one by the time he was through with it and see the pool emptied in half the time with a lot less effort – all I’m gonna throw in here is best laid plans people!...you know what I’m sayin’… So, we followed him out to the pool area. He had gathered his supplies and he assured us that we were about to see an engineering feat take place. First he grabbed a bucket, used mums good filleting knife (for which we were all sworn to secrecy about) to make 2 holes near the rim (one on either side), then he threaded a piece of rope through the holes and proceeded to thread both ends through the pool pole (you know the one you attach the scoop or vacuum head to), then he raised his ‘masterful contraption’ to the sky – not unlike Thor’s Hammer – Yep, have a giggle – hehehe...I still do every time I think of that moment…He then stood on the edge of the pool above the deep end, as this obviously was the closest point to the water that had pooled in the bottom courtesy of Ma Nature, and proceeded to swing this pole-bucket up and down, trying to scoop the water below but really just slapping and splashing haphazardly and us kids jumping around next to him cheering him on – “you’re so close dad!’...and “just tilt it a bit more…’, and lets not forget “ooooh, you’re soooo close…”. Well, dad was looking slightly flushed in the cheeks and growing increasingly flustered, was not having a bar of it, he told us kids to move out of the way, he needed more ‘swing’ space and didn’t want to risk knocking one of us into the bottom – cause then mum would’ve had an epic meltdown of nuclear proportions, as you can well imagine! So we all moved back, my little brother still dancing around behind us, my sister and I watching on with clenched hands and total amazement that dad was about to do something so genius...so death-defying! – we really had no idea what was going to happen...none of us could have foreseen how friggin sideways that shit was gonna go...!

…so, dad was yabbering away how the ‘dynamics and...blah blah...the elevation...I think ‘hydraulics’ was in there too...more blah blah...(he really lost us as soon as he started using really big words...it was more so just our sheer morbid curiosity that kept us at the pool edge...and which one of us would be the one to dob dad in to mum...and never mind the fact that dads skinny white chicken legs were totally exposed and sticking out from under his navy blue ‘dad-swim-shorts’ for all to see (god help the sticky-beak neighbour who wants to take a peak over the fence right now)...you know the shorty-short-heavy-duty lycra-wool-mix type with the built-in fabric belt...have I scarred you yet?...need I say more...)

Anyway, we’re all agog, waiting for this miraculous contraption to do dads bidding - dad is pushing down on the pole with the bucket completely submerged in the murky water some 10 feet below, he pushed forward on the pole, the bucket moved beneath the water towards the shallow end...there was some more cursing from dad, then everything, including time, seemed to flow in slow motion...dad leaned forward to try and re-gain control of the bucket below and next thing you know, there's movement in the murky water, something slipped... his feet have left the ground and he’s pole-vaulting across the pool!!! Don’t you worry, he hung in there! He wasn’t letting go of that goddamn pole for anything!. My brother stops dancing around, points to dad and yells out “Is it a bird?...Is it a plane?...No! Its my dad!!!”...and at this point my sister just starts yellin’ out for mum. (she knows dads made a big boo-boo and mums gonna have to clean it up! ) Dad seemed to ‘glide’ through the air, his skinny white legs pumping and as that pole cast him up like a salmon leaping upstream and then...dads yelling "Shit cried the king!"...and gravity took over...holy cow! Dad was abruptly slammed! – I mean really full-body-slammed on the bottom – the empty shallow end of the pool – and there he stopped - with an almighty bone-crunching thud!!! (Oh my lord! The tears of laughter are runnin’ down my face...)

I ran for the shallow end steps, my sister screams for mum sooo loud I think she’s gonna shatter the windows and my brother just stands there...rooted to the spot, a wry crooked smile on his dial and slowly scratchin’ his semi-tilted little blonde head! None of us can believe what we’ve just seen…

My sisters blood-curdling screams bring Mum tear-assing out the back french doors, hoicking her skirt up to her knees as she goes, she leaps over the garden, rushes through the gate and right as I reach dad in the shallow end, so does mum...I’m almost winded as mum jumps on in and shoves me aside to check on her husband – our dad – to see if he still alive...cause if he is then she's gonna kill him herself!!! Mind you, dad is winded and gasping like its his last, and I can tell you my friends, I nearly had kittens that day in the hot Sunday summer afternoon of ‘81! My brother and I were tryin’ so hard to stifle the giggles behind our hands...even with the threat of death looks mum was givin’ us...nothin’ could erase the images of ‘Super-dad’ flyin’ through the air...

After what seemed an eternity of swear-word-vollies between mum and dad, multiple points of bone and limb checking having been applied, no punctured lungs from busted ribs or the like...dad tellin’ mum “stop fussin’ woman, I’ll be ok...!”, and mum retaliating with “you’re a bloody idiot Barry!” and “I cant believe you just did that in front of the kids! What would you have done if you’d bloody killed yourself..???”...mind you, you could still see the love in their fiery blaspheming eyes that day…

But that’s not where this tale ends my friends...nope! Night-time bought out all the aches and pains!!! And not just dads aches and pains either! I have to say that my mother cursed and swore in just about every colour known to mankind that night…3am to be exact! (go on, have a laugh, god knows I am...and I’m just remembering all that stuff!!!)

I sit up in bed, turned on my bedside lamp, and I could hear a really pitiful moaning – you know that drawn-out 'mewling' sound like a cat fight about to begin - and my mother swearing like a trooper. My sister comes running into my room crying that she can hear a ghost… after a quick giggle, I informed her that it wasn’t a ghost, the noise was coming from mum and dads room and obviously it was dad and that he must be in pain from his pool-vault and mum wasn’t handling dads pains the way dad needed her to (yep, our mums have all been there!)..and the situation was obviously super-enhanced by her lack of sleep! (its ok if your still chuckling – I am – go right ahead and let out a belly laugh or snort if you have to...maybe grab some tissues to blot those tears of laughter, cause this shit aint over yet my friends!)

So, my sister and I are standing in my doorway, while Mums trudging back and forth up the hallway, slamming doors, muttering that I have to look after my sister and brother, she has to take dad to the bloody hospital...he’s got a hole in his shin...you can see into his bone...constant mutterings all while looking for the crutches... in the hall cupboard – not there – looks in my wardrobe – not there – every cupboard is attacked forcibly - a tonne more swearing at the ‘shit’ in the cupboards as the crutches are not being very forthcoming with their location at this time...and that is just testing my mothers patience to its absolute ‘enth’ degree as she would say…and more moaning from dad – he really knows how to get mum fired up at 3 in the morning... I pipe up with “You know the hospital will give you a set of crutches when he’s done..?!”...Mum responds with, although feigning she’s saying this under her breath and with teeth clenched, it’s deliberately loud enough that dad and us kids hear her say “...if your bloody father doesn’t shut the hell up, crutches will be the least of his goddamn worries!!!”.

A multitude of tests later, x-rays, blood samples taken in case bacteria from the dirty water in the pool found its way into the ‘hole’ in the middle of dads shin (caused by a screw lying in the bottom of the pool that was still inside his shin when mum took him to hospital 8 hours after his pool vaulting escapades – there’s your promised gore my friends – remember those images – I know I’m scarred!!!), a good sterile scrub clean followed by 5 stitches and his leg thoroughly packed and bandaged from the tips of his toes to just above his knee...and the icing on the cake, as mum called it - dad copping a stiff talking to from the doctors and nurses about the dangers of grown men flying willy-nilly through the air whilst their impressionable young children clap their hands and watch on in awe and delight…no sirree...not what respectable fathers do they said...

5:20am...they’re home from the hospital...and still arguing! Now though, dad claimed mum didn’t do enough to check all his bodily functions and faculties were in order straight after his free-fall into the shallow end or we might have seen the screw stuck in his shin bone...and mum saying that it was a pity he didn’t land on his mouth...we’d all have peace and bloody quiet for a change... (And lets not forget the reason I’m sharing this story with you all...), “If your father had been wearing his damn glasses like I’d told him to in the first place, he’d have seen all the crap in the bottom of the pool and never done it in the first bloody place!!!”

Heeheehee!...OMG...I am absolutely wetting myself laughing...

Now, 40 years on, Dad still rubs the old shin from time to time, especially if the weathers on the cooler side...reckons its now his ‘barometer’ of bad weather coming...and that my friends is one story that gets told every Christmas round the table, and I swear each year Dad adds a little extra to the narrative – like he always says – ‘Never let the truth get in the way of a good war-ry!’

And Yes, they’ve still got that fiery blaspheming love thing goin’ on to this very day my friends…57 years and counting...god they crack me up every time I think about that day…

Now, after sharing all of this with you, I’m sure you’ll all agree there really is only one question that you can ask about my Dad...’How the bloody hell is he still alive and kicking today?!?!’

The answer my friends,...Bloody lucky?...blessed?...all I can say is your guess is as good as mine! Hope you all enjoyed the laughs at my Dads expense...I know I did!!!

(Thanks again... and again... and again... for all the laughs dad...you’re my best!)

STOP! Breathe...Take a sip of Darth-tea, inhale, exhale…repeat...and...SUBMIT!