Creative Writing Project – 2016 to 2020
You’ve probably noticed this about me, but if there’s one thing I like to do, it’s to write. I’m not saying I have some special gift. Far from it. I just find a power in the written word.
I also get the importance of financial literacy. And I’ve always been of the opinion that more should be done in this space for our teenagers. So they understand more about financial matters when they come out of school and venture into something resembling the ‘real world’.
And so, in 2016 I was starting to bring these two ideas together, along with the idea of creating some sort of project that would get kids working as a team, encouraging them to develop their creative writing skills and at least some rudimentary understanding of share investment.
In August of that year, I sent a note out to my grandkids Lily and Jonah, and my niece Charlotte’s boys Issac and Ashley. A copy of that note follows. Their ages at the time were 15, 12, 12 and 9 respectively. I outlined how the project would work, and I asked them to join in. And they did. And so it began.
Following the 20 August 2016 note, I include one story from each of them. So you can see the work they did. I also include a piece I wrote and sent to the kids – my idea here was to share a bit of own creative writing, with the hope of getting them to possibly think of their own parents in a different way.
The project ran for 4½ years with over 70 stories being submitted, read, edited and commented on. We jointly invested in some shares and learned about the markets. We all met together to discuss progress, and I answered as many questions as I could. I could see their growth, as could others.
Could it have been better? Maybe. But it was a good start. And on the whole, it was a fun and rewarding exercise. They each eventually were paid out between $1,000 and $2,000.
Maybe this story will inspire someone to do something similar with their kids or grandkids. If you’d like to kick around any thoughts or ideas, please email me at rob.landsberry@gmail.com.
Thanks
Rob
20 August 2016
Hi Lily, Jonah, Isaac and Ashley
Yes, I know, this is a long letter. You know, people used to write long letters to each other, before SMS and Twitter. And other people used to actually READ them! I would really suggest that you read this one, as it’s a good one for you all.
Now, I know you two sets of siblings don’t know each other well, but I have a proposition for you all. A ‘proposition’ is like a plan….or an idea that someone puts to you, for you to think about. Get your parents to help you with this letter, and make sure they’re OK with what I’m suggesting below. They have to agree.
As you may all know, I LOVE to write. To me, writing is a magic way to bring imaginations alive, and to weave fabulous stories, whether they’re just for you, for your family and friends, for your teachers, or for the whole world!
The written word can be funny, witty, clever, sad, and emotional. It can make you cry, and it can make you laugh out loud. It can be used to teach. It can be used to inspire. And it can be used just for fun.
I also like the idea of supporting people with good ideas. Recently Leslie and I started our own business called Two Heads Solutions. To manage our invoices to our clients and our payments, we started to use some web-based accounting software called XERO (www.xero.com). It was developed by some young, smart people in New Zealand, and they’re now expanding into the United States. We liked the software so much, that we bought some shares in the company, hoping both to support the company as it grows, and also hopefully to see our own share investment grow.
I guess you guys don’t know much about the share market just yet. It allows all sorts of organisations and people to invest in companies. The company is divided up into a number of shares – usually millions of them – and you can buy some of them, so you own a little piece of that company. You can make money in two ways.
You get a dividend when the company makes a profit.
And, if the company continues to be successful, the share price goes up, so when you sell you make a profit there too.
So, what I’ve done is this. I’ve come up with an idea that does these things:
Encourages you all to produce some good quality creative writing.
Allows you to be rewarded for that, by paying you for these stories.
Invests that money in good quality responsible companies, so you can hopefully see that investment grow.
Gives you an idea that not all rewards come straight away. Sometimes you need to work and wait for the reward. You need to have patience.
Makes you responsible for making sure you do what you need to do on time.
Encourages you to work together as a team to decide what else you may like to invest in.
To start you off, I’ve just bought $500 worth of shares for the four of you in a company called Freedom Foods (www.freedomfoods.com.au). Freedom Foods is an Australian manufacturer of health conscious and allergen-free foods and drinks that are sold into both Australia and Overseas markets. So, why would I buy these shares?
Well, I like the idea of their products. They take pride in healthy foods made in healthy ways.
They’re a leading and growing manufacturer of allergen-free foods and drinks.
They’re a proven family business, and a lot of the shares are owned by the people who work in the business. This is always a good thing, as it means that the people in the business are putting their money where their mouth is, by which I mean, they’re backing themselves to build a successful company.
They have some good relationships in Asia, countries which are growing faster than Australia. As you all know, there are many, many times more people in Asia compared to Australia, and they’re getting richer, so they have more money to spend on good quality products.
Read more about Freedom Foods on their website - www.freedomfoods.com.au.
So how this works is like this:
You now each have a ¼ share in the $500 worth of shares in Freedom Foods. You own those shares between you all. Not $500 worth of shares each – but $500 worth of shares between you.
Every three months, you can send me one story of at least 500 words (only one story each in each three months). It must be something completely original, be creative, and it can be about anything you like. It can be funny, sad, true….but nothing too rude, in bad taste or cruel to anyone. It can be a little bit rude, of course!
I can be something you’ve written for school or for some other reason if you like, but it would be better if you did something brand new.
It must be interesting….it can’t just be describing something that happened. You have to put some thought into making it interesting.
It has to show that you’ve put some time and effort into the story, and into checking spelling, etc.
I know that you’re all different ages. This is not a contest between you. I know that the types of stories you write, and the way you write them, will be according to your age.
Each story has to be typed – preferably in Microsoft Word if you can.
It can be longer than 500 words, but it MUST be at least 500 words.
It can have pictures also if it helps with the story, but these don’t count towards the word count.
It must be emailed to me by the last day of each three-month period, or posted to me so it gets to PO Box 1008, Bowral 2576 by that day at the latest. If it’s late, it will be counted for the next three-month period. Of course you can send it anytime early if you like.
I will pay each of you $30 for a story that meets all of the above requirements. If I decide it doesn’t meet any of the requirements, then that’s it – no arguing with me.
I won’t be sending out reminders to you when a story is almost due – you have to remember when they’re due yourselves. Use whatever helps you to remember!
I will put that $30 aside and keep a record of what each of you has.
When the total amount reaches $500, you will all decide together what shares to invest that in. $500 is the smallest value of shares you can buy through the Commonwealth Bank (which is where I buy shares).
I will cover the $20 fee that each purchase of shares costs, each time you purchase some. I will also cover any tax payable for dividends received and any tax due when the shares are sold.
Every year (in September), I will add $100 to the pool of money available - $25 each. So, with that added, it will take less than a year to reach the $500 if you all write me one story every three months – that would be $580 to invest.
Also, any dividends your shares get during the year will be added to the pool of money.
I will increase the $30 for each story by $3 each year, so September 2017 the payment goes to $33 per story.
Of course you don’t have to write a story every three months. That would just mean that you won’t have the $30 added to your share.
Remember that shares can go down in value, and sometimes there are no dividends. Also, companies can go broke, so you could possibly lose all of the money. There are no guarantees.
I will report back to you every three months to tell you how you’re all going.
When any one of you turns 18, you can take your money out. We will work out what your share is worth and I will pay that to you. If you prefer, you can stay in if you would like to. But when the last one of you turns 18, then we sell all shares and you all get your share, and that’s the end of the scheme.
Now, there are also some things that will get you removed from the scheme completely, and if you are removed, then you’ll lose whatever share you would have had, and that will be split between the others. And, once you’re out, for whatever reason, then you can’t come back in. Again, no arguing – I make the rules and I judge them. I will be fair. These are the things that will get you removed:
If I find that you’ve copied the story or the idea from somewhere else.
If I find that someone else has helped you to write or correct your story.
If you don’t write at least two stories each year.
If I hear from your parents that you have used the story writing as an excuse for not doing your normal schoolwork, your homework or your other chores and jobs at home. Those MUST come first, and then you can do the stories.
So, let me know what you think. If you’re in, send me an email, or if you don’t have an email address, get someone else to send one for you. The first story is due by the end of September 2016, then the next ones are due by the end of December, March and June and so on.
This will be fun and will teach you more about writing, investment, the share market, thinking longer term, and what to look for in good companies.
Hope you’ll all be in it.
With lots of love
Rob
xxxx
Like Honey
By Lily Nicholson - Q4/2017 (aged 16)
Standing on the thick concrete slab of the platform, Leopoldine closed her eyes and breathed in the wind which swept across her face. The clouds had parted, and the last minutes of golden sunlight poured from the sky. The slight warmth was peaceful and tickled her cheeks into a smile. Moments like these were what made Leo forget the distance between herself and home. Moments like these tamed the horses which galloped with heavy hooves in her stomach. Moments like these made Leopoldine feel beautifully alive.
Shifting slowly on her feet, Leo began to hear the train approaching. She rolled her head from side to side and tried to remedy the awkward feeling of the weighted backpack on her tired shoulders. As the train came to a squeaking halt, Leo felt the air buzzing with the anxiety of all the impatient commuters around her. They seemed to hover over the platform and swarmed together like busy bees at each train door. A wrinkled finger squished down the rubber bubble at the entrance before Leo, and she heard a large and full sigh as it opened to the crowd. Shuffling behind them in her heavy brown boots, Leo spotted a seat to her right and sat down across from an old lady who looked at her puzzled through a pair of big round glasses. Leo offered her a small smile and looked down at the pairs of muddied shoes on the linoleum floor.
Wondering whether the sweet potatoes would greet her with spots of mould in the pantry when she got home, Leopoldine unzipped her backpack and sent her arm inside in search of the tangled bundle of earbuds. She hoped a tray of warm cinnamon dusted chips would feel just as good as a loving hug from her family who were living their lives 16,950 kilometres away from where she sat on her seat on the train, shooting through Paris.
Listen to the girl
As she takes on half the world
Moving up and so alive
In her honey dripping… beehive.
Beehive.
It's good. So good. So good.It's so good.
Leo tumbled into the song. A melody so beautifully soft and gentle, it could be nothing but enjoyed. Each word was strung together as sweetly as the last and Leo drank it all up.
Just like honey
Just like honey
Just like honey
Just like honey
Just like honey
Just like honeyJust like honey
It was a song which perfectly expressed the mixed emotions she experienced daily in this foreign place away from home. A sort of sad yet peaceful happy. Repetitive – like some of her days. It was a struggle sometimes to remain upbeat and happy in her 16-year-old self. Occasionally, the feeling of tears would well up in her blue eyes. On good days, these would be replaced by a feeling of awe, happiness, laughter.
Leopoldine indulged in the last chiming sounds of her song. She thought of her dog’s shaggy blonde curls, the sway of the gum trees in the evening breeze, the taste of a juicy watermelon on the beach on a summer’s day. She thought of her Mum’s beautiful, green, smiling eyes. She thought of home.
In the eyes of Hoffa
By Jonah Nicholson - Q4/2020 (aged 16)
I guess you could say I was pretty pissed off about what came to be. The power I instilled in every single working citizen of America, the unions I made, the money I made, and the family I made. And then, to be shot in the back in some house in Detroit!
All I wanted when I came out of the can was to have my union back! Being president of the union to me was better than anything in this world (apart from my beautiful family of course), and I would stop at nothing to get it back. It all started when I came outta the can. I went away for fraud, did a few years.
In school I heard they had some fat nobody, Fitz, step into my role as the President of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters. I think I was more pissed off about that then I was about getting whacked. See, I never really cared about the money and the fame; I cared about the hardworking folks of America. Fitz didn’t. All he cared about was travelling around the country, getting fatter and playing golf with Nixon and other pricks like Tony Pro, but we’ll get to him later.
I tried to do anything in my power to get my union back. I went on television, I talked to the press, and I even went back to the mob. But the mob couldn’t do anything for me, and I realised why. Fitz was soft, and the crooks could squeeze more money out of Fitz to put in their pension funds. I should of just stopped then, because there would be no way I could get my union back.
I remember the first time I met Franky; it was on the phone. “I heard you paint houses”, I said. The painting of the house referred to the blood that splatters on the wall behind them after you shoot the poor bastard in the head, meaning Franky was a hitman. “Yes, I also do my own carpentry”, he replied.
I’d say Frank Sheeran was the best friend I ever had. I never really thought of him as a bodyguard. Every speech gave and every protest I was at, Frank would check and pad down everyone who came in. Every meeting, lunch, dinner, even when I went to sleep, Franky would be there. If they could whack a president, they could whack a president of a union, that’s why I needed the Irishman by my side.
I could see Franky was a hard worker. He always did what he had to do, whenever it needed to be done. I always liked that quality about him. He had an unstable job in the mob, working for Russel Buffalino, and I wanted to give him something steady. So, I gave him a job at one of the locals, and he did a damn good job at it. I’m happy I met the Irishman and all that he did for me. And to be honest I’ve come to realise that I’m happy he was the one that had to pull the trigger at the very end.
When I was in school, I had an argument with a union leader by the name of Tony Pro. Something about him losing 1.2 million for going into the can for extortion, and wanted me to ‘do something about it’. I never really liked him, so I said I couldn’t do anything for him, and he got pissed off. He started getting more worked up about me refusing to help him get his money back, so I said something about him being a Jew, then we had a little biff. I regret everything I said in that argument because it would come to bite me in the ass in the years to come. We pretty much hated each other after that.
When I got out, I asked Frank and Russ to get the go ahead from Tony Salerno to whack the little prick for something he said about my granddaughter. Tony Salerno was one of the biggest crime bosses in America at the time, and if I was given the okay from him, it was like I’d been given the okay from everyone. Tony Salerno agreed that what he said about my granddaughter was wrong, but he wouldn’t let me whack Pro because of his connections with the mob. He wasn’t a nobody. I kept on trying to get the go ahead, but it never worked. The mob started to get pissed off.
I was always a hot head, and everyone knew that and respected that. But when I went on television to tell all of America that Tony Pro and Frank Fitz had major connections with crime families, that was when I was on my last straw with the mob. What can I say? I was pissed off about these crooks controlling my union (that I still wasn’t a president of, by the way) and always getting a say of what I could and couldn’t do.
After that, Russel Buffalino was still by my side and was calming Tony Salerno down about what I said on television. The mob always wanted to keep a low profile from the media and after that happened, they were ready to whack me then and there. A little while after there was a big celebration for Frank Sheeran, which he asked me to MC and present an award to him on behalf of everyone he’s ever worked for. The Army, the mob and the union. I was very proud of my friend. After the presentation Russel came up to me and asked me if I’d been holding up the money that was flowing into the mobsters’ pension funds and loans. I was. And I told him I was, and if they wouldn’t give me back my union, I’d keep on holding up the money the mob should be getting. This message came straight back to Tony. Franky and Russ couldn’t protect me no more, and if they did, they would have ended up like me.
I’m not going into detail about how I got stitched up, but it revolved around me having a meeting with Tony Pro to straighten things out. I was supposed to get picked up by Franky at a diner, then taken somewhere to have the meeting with Pro and Russel. It sounded kinda flaky, so I told Franky to bring his little brother (his pistol) just in case this little prick Pro tried anything funny.
I was waiting at the diner for over 30 minutes. I’d never waited for someone longer than 10 minutes in my life, so I was already pissed off. Then suddenly a car pulls up with my son driving, some four eyed prick in the front, and Franky in the back. I asked what the hell was going on, and why my son was there, and the guy with the glasses (who was with Pro) said that everyone will be there at ‘the house’ for the meeting. I told him to shut up and turned to Frank. He said the same thing, so I trusted him and got in the car, as much as it felt wrong.
It was about a 20 minute drive until we pulled into a suburban street off the highway. We pulled up into a driveway, and me and Franky got out. There were no cars outside. Frank opened the door, and we walked inside. I noticed the carpet had been taken away beneath my feet. Franky shut the door, and I peeked around. No one was there. I instantly knew why I was there and said to Frank, “Let’s get out of here”. Then, the world went black on me.
I feel bad for Franky. If they wanted to whack me and used anyone else, Frank would’ve been there to stop it, so I guess they had no choice. I wonder how he feels today, he’s probably just as pissed off as I am. I also respect that Russel protected me until he couldn’t no more and had to choose between him or me. To be honest the only thing that pissed me off about getting whacked was not saying goodbyes to my family. But in the life I had, I changed an America that needed changing, and I fought for what I wanted, and I got what I wanted.
And then, in the end, I didn’t.
But I probably got what I deserved.
My Dream Job
By Isaac Centorino – Q3/2020 (aged 14)
Sometimes I think about what Dad does and what Mum is going to do and think: “What will I do in the future”?
I would love to be a mechanic, mainly because I really like cars and engines. For the past two months I’ve been looking into cars a lot and thinking that some cars are really nice. My friend's Dad is a mechanic, and he owns his own shop. He has seven cars and some of them are really cool. He said he has so many cars because people sell them to him when they need to be repaired, but the costs are too high. He’ll buy it for a cheap price, fix it up, and it's ready to go again.
What I really want to do is own my own mechanic’s shop, and set up a dealership in it, as well as a repair shop. (I don’t know if there are certain things I need to do to open a dealership, but I guess I’ll find out when I get to that point). If I were to become a mechanic, I would work on cars and diesel engines. I would work on diesel engines because, I got told if I want to make a lot of money from being a mechanic I need to be a diesel mechanic.
There are two cars I want more than anything right now and both are from the 80’s and 90’s. They’re a Nissan Skyline R33 GT-R and a Nissan 180sx. The realistic one to get is the 180sx, and it’s one of my life goals to get that car. I like these cars because of the way they look. They look low and aggressive, and they have excellent performance as well.
My dream job would actually be a YouTuber. I just think it would be really cool to be doing anything I want, and to be able to make a lot of money doing it. I could have two channels. One for gaming/tech, and one for my cars. One of my favourite YouTubers is KSI (click here). He has so much money that he bought a £500,000 gold Beerus chain. That's $902,000 in Aussie dollars!!
I don’t think I would ever get that big on YouTube, and even if I did, I wouldn’t buy a $900,000 chain. But it would be so cool if I ever did get that famous. If I had a spare $900,000 lying around, then I would probably buy a lot of cars, even though I can’t drive – well, not yet anyway.
One thing I really wouldn't want to do for a future job is a mountain climbing instructor, or something along those lines. I wouldn’t want to because it involves heights, and I just think I wouldn’t be able to do it.
I used to want to be a professional Soccer player, but now I’m not really interested. As you may know I made it into the International Football School (IFS -c now called The Central Coast Sports College), and I think if I went to that school I would still be interested, but as of now, it doesn’t interest me anymore.
Even though I don’t know what I’m going to do when I leave school, I’ll have to figure it out soon, as I have HSC in a year and a bit. But I’m not sure what would be a good path for a mechanic at my school.
Gossy Good Times - Parts 1 and 2
By Ashley Centorino – Q3 and Q4/2020 (aged 13)
Part 1
It was the start of a gloomy night on Halloween. Most of the kids decided to go trick or treating, but my friends and I decided to go into a haunted house called Gossy Good Times. It was supposedly haunted, and we were gonna find out if it was tonight!
I met all my friends at Gosford train station - Laura, Chloe, Billy, Kayden, Josh, Cordell, and Cooper. We all got there at about 10:15 pm and were ready to leave to go into the haunted house. As we arrived, we felt a cold breeze over our shoulders, then Josh said maybe this isn’t such a good idea, but I snapped back, confidently, “You know…it’s probably not even haunted.”
We jumped the fence and walked towards the entrance. We opened the door, and it was pitch black, so we pulled out our torches and looked around. All we saw was dirt, glass, needles, and other bits of rubble, but we still needed to explore upstairs and downstairs, so we walked around until we found some stairs leading up. We went up slowly, making the least amount of noise possible.
Once we reached the first floor upstairs, we started looking around. We looked in this storage room first and we saw a bunch of needles, so we walked out of that room quickly and explored another one, which looked like a big open room with a bunch of spray paint cans around. I picked one up and started spraying it on the wall but as soon as I started spraying I heard a loud bang downstairs. It sounded like someone threw a piece of glass on the ground. Everyone gasped in fright then Laura said, “It’s probably someone messing with us.” Then Billy suggested that we go check it out, which I didn’t think was a good idea, but Billy is the strongest, so what he says goes generally.
We all headed back downstairs and couldn’t find anyone, so we thought it was just some little kid messing with us. Instead of going back upstairs we went downstairs which was pretty much a basement. As we walked down, we heard noises. It sounded like laughing, but an evil type of laugh. We kept going because we thought it was just those little kids, but as we arrived at the bottom, we smelled something really bad. Even so, we kept on going. The smell got worse and Josh said, “It smells like something died in here”. Then we heard a deep voice saying, “You’re next to die in here.” We all freaked out and bolted to the stairs but as we were running up the stairs, I heard Josh say, “Help he’s got me, someone save me!!”. But all of us were too scared to go down, so we kept running until we got out and jumped over the fence. As soon as we were over, we heard Josh scream, and then there was a moment of complete silence.
Chloe said, “We have to go in there and save him.” Kayden said back, “If we go in there now, we’ll all die. We need to come back another day and bring some weapons with us.” The whole group agreed that we’d come back another day. And with weapons.
And there we were, just walking away as if nothing had happened.
Part 2
You may remember that we said previously that we’d come back with weapons, and that’s exactly what we did.
The weapons we brought were a hammer, Japanese Katana sword, water gun, knives, and a lighter with a deodorant can (don’t ask me why our selection of weapons is weird; we have limited resources!).
Now it’s time to head back in and solve the mystery.
As we walked in, we got the chills, and Cooper got a bit hesitant about going in, but then Cordell said, “We’re doing it for Josh.’’ So we all agreed and pushed on. As we walked to the stairs, we heard a loud bang which scared the shit out of us. Cooper ran all the way back to the entrance and said, “I can’t do this! This is way too creepy for me”.
So then there were 6. We made our way to the stairs and slowly walked down in this order: Billy was in the front, and from there it went Chloe, me, Kayden, Cordell and Laura. As we were walking, we could hear faint footsteps, but we didn't know if they were ours or someone else's.
We reached the bottom floor. We started searching around for any clues but there was nothing, so we went to the place where Josh had been taken, and we saw some mud footprints which we followed. They led us to this pitch-black room, when suddenly we heard muffled screams but we couldn't tell where they were coming from because the sound was echoing so much. So we went to this other room, and we saw the person behind all of this.
Straight away I pulled out my Japanese Katana and started to try to stab him, while everyone else was also trying to attack him. But then he just vanished into thin air! We looked around and found nothing. We suddenly heard screams again. Billy said, “I think it's coming from over there,” so we went to what seemed to be a bathroom, and there we found Josh, all tied up. We untied him and made our way back upstairs when we saw the stranger again. Billy stabbed him 3 times with one of the knives, and then the strange figure dropped to the ground. He didn't seem dead, but he was definitely badly injured, so we all bolted up the stairs as quickly as we could and made it out to the front. We checked up on Josh, who seemed fine. He had no injuries which was amazing. So we all called it a night and went home.
But Josh's screams still haunt me to this day.
What Would I Know?
By Rob Landsberry, August 2017
When I was in my teens, I thought I'd live forever. In fact, I thought everything would go on forever. Time seemed to stretch out so far, that it was hard to see any of this ending. Ever.
When you believe that you’ve got that luxury, you tend to make some questionable decisions. You figure that you can waste time. I mean, a little wasted time is like taking a grain of sand from Seven Mile Beach - you won't even notice it's gone.
And you think it's OK to mess things up a bit. To damage relationships. To take people for granted. I mean, you've got all the time in the world to patch that up. Sure, you lose some time with those people, but look ahead. There's no end!! You can fix it all up later.
The funniest thing you do is to ignore advice. Somehow, you think that you're the first person who knows how to manage this thing called life. I say that's the ‘funniest’, not in the sense that it makes you laugh, but more that it's actually laughable.
I mean here are people you've trusted, some of them for your whole life. Teachers, parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents - all manner of folk that have helped you to become who you are today. And all of a sudden, you start to think ‘whatever’ when they offer you advice or opinions. How did they become so useless so quickly?
I never thought about it much back then. After all, in my teens, I believed I’d been blessed with the unique ability to know that if I just went down the path of being pretty much totally ‘me’ focused, then my life would be the absolute best! I didn’t just think that would be the case. I knew it.
And I knew it better than all of those who thought they knew me better than I knew myself. They just wanted me to do the things they hadn't done, and quite frankly, I was NOT put on this earth to make them feel better about themselves.
But the thing I wasted most was the time I could have spent with those people. Because you know, the fact is that time doesn't keep stretching on forever. And, as the years go by, those grains of lost time all add up to far more than you think.
I mention this now, because I’ve been thinking about my parents a lot lately. My father died over 25 years ago – he was born 100 years ago this year. And my mother started to develop Alzheimer’s seven years ago. These two people made me who I am today. In the plainest sense, I mean that literally – it’s a biological fact. Without them, then there’s simply no ‘me’.
And it was a close-run thing. They met by chance, like most people do. If it had rained that day, maybe they wouldn’t have met at all. I’m reminded of Tim Minchin’s song, ‘If I didn’t have you, someone else would probably do’, but in my case, if I didn’t have ‘them’, then I would never have even existed.
To build on that fluke, they were wafer thin close to breaking up on more than one occasion. The odds of the 9th of 12 children from a staunchly Catholic farming family being married to the only child of big‑city non‑practising Church of England parents in the early 1950’s – well, let’s say, there’s a better chance of The Wiggles forming a credible political party.
But they didn’t just ‘make’ me in a biological sense. They also made me the person I am today. Imperfect, sure….but I like to think someone who adds more to the world than he takes from it.
My Mum gave me my moral compass. And, without ever once mentioning the word ‘ethics’, Mum also gave me a powerful sense of what were the important values in life, and a set of principles to layer over those values so that I could make the ‘right’ decisions about the ‘right’ things.
My Dad taught me the absolute joy you can get from the magic of words and music. He taught me how you could apply a sense of humour to pretty much any situation to make it better. He showed me how even the darkest and most bleak moments had their funny side.
And he demonstrated how anyone could win against any odds, if they applied their mind and their time. Against Government. Against corporations. Against anyone.
You take the diverse lessons I learned from these two people, and layer them over one another, and those of you who know me will maybe see how I became who I am today. It was them.
So, I’ve been thinking about Mum and Dad.
And I’ve been thinking about time.
I clearly remember specific times when I fought with my folks in my teens, to the point where there were periods when we barely spoke to one another for days. They were giving me space to sort it out. I was just trying to make a point: Leave me alone. You don’t know me. I know best.
Rarely did I ever try to heal these rifts. And when I say ‘rarely’, if I’m really honest, I mean ‘never’. I simply wasn’t a big enough person. And I don’t mean in height and weight. I mean big enough inside. Where it counts.
And, here’s the real kicker. This went on beyond my teens, and into my 20’s. I’m ashamed and disappointed to admit that there was one time when I didn’t see my parents, or even talk to them for some months.
You did hear me, didn’t you? I said ‘months’. Not days or weeks. Freakin’ months!
And even then, at that age, I didn’t fix it. They did. I’d grown, but I wasn’t any bigger inside.
So, I look back now, and I see what I lost, and what I caused them to lose. Time. Precious time.
My Dad died at 74. ‘A decent innings’, some might say, but still too young. And worse still, too suddenly. There was no warning. One day he was there, and the next day he wasn’t. I stood alone with his dead body in the backyard that day, waiting for the funeral directors to come and pick him up, and trying desperately to think of the last words I’d said to him. I wanted them to be something profound. Something deep. Something that told him how much I valued and loved him, for all his quirkiness. But I guess, in reality, those last words were most likely the sort of everyday things we all say when we think we have plenty more time. And I no doubt waved as I left, and said: ‘See you soon, Dad’.
My Mum disappeared more slowly. Alzheimer’s took up residence inside her some years ago, and it gradually started to steal pieces of her from us, from the inside out. Bit by bit Mum lost memories and abilities. She lost all the things that made her ‘Mum’.
Sure, there are glimpses of the old Mum every now and then. But they’re so fleeting that I have to be on the ball all the time so I don’t miss them, they can be that quick. And when you see them, and they’re gone again, it all just serves as a bitter reminder of what’s been taken away. Over and over, this nasty bastard of a disease reminds you of what’s been lost. And I get angry. She doesn’t, but I do. Not with her of course, and not so as she would notice.
And then, as her bewildered face tilts sideways, wondering why she’s not coming with me, she waves me goodbye, and that wave becomes the inevitable wave that washes over me and almost drowns me in sadness.
I don’t know which is worse. A sudden departure, or a long drawn out one. But, let me tell you, neither is great. I guess there’s no ‘great’ way….probably not even any ‘good’ way, if the truth’s known.
And when I think on all of this, that’s when I kick myself for the time I wasted. The time I can NEVER get back. I thought I had forever. I rebuke myself for having let some petty argument take hours, or maybe even days away from my relationship with my parents. From the ability to listen and learn, and just to share.
I shout at myself inside my head, telling myself off for holding a ridiculous grudge over what was often nothing more than my parents trying to help me, and me being the ridiculously un‑helpable.
I daren’t add those wasted hours up. I would be devastated to know how big that total would be. I have a figure in my mind, but I think I’ve talked it down to try to make myself feel better about it all. But I do know this: the total would be way more than even my highest estimate.
I would give anything to have those precious hours back. To have been big enough to have avoided those times when time was wasted, or at least big enough to repair the rift as quickly as possible, so that I could minimise the waste.
I’m wiser now. I’m bigger. Inside. I wouldn’t waste those hours again. But that doesn’t help me now, does it?
Imagine how much I could have learned from my Dad before he was snatched from me so suddenly. And from my Mum before this hideous condition chipped and whittled away at her very essence. And now, those chances are gone. And there was no real warning. I guess there rarely is.
So, as obvious as it might seem, it turns out I didn’t have forever. None of us does. I say it’s obvious, but that’s really only when you look back on it, and by then it’s too late.
My advice to my teenage self: Fix it now. Listen. Learn. And make the most of the time you have with your parents. They made you who you are – physically, mentally and spiritually. They know more than you think. And there’s not time to fix everything that you break later on.
Eventually and inevitably there will come a time when ‘later on’ will actually be ‘never’. And there’ll be a time when saying ‘see you soon’ simply won’t be true.
And in all likelihood, you won’t know when that may be until it’s already happened.
Written by Rob Landsberry, Lily Nicholson-Power, Jonah Nicholson, Isaac Centorino, and Ashley Centorino, last updated 29 October, 2024