For all of those who know me, I am the son of a teacher from a family of teachers. Please if you notice anything wrong about my grammar or punctuation, let me know before Mummy sees it
Life is what you
make of it
A kind of
weariness had possessed me lately. It is not that I was tired of life or
contemplating the futility of it all, nothing like that…yet. However, as my own
mortality was made clear to me with the passing of dear ones, I have felt like a passenger
on a train nearing his destination, with a few more stops to go.
It is not as
morbid as it sounds. I have acquired a new sharper enthusiasm for things that I
used to take for granted and my frustration grows when I perceive that others
around me do not “get” me or seem to be oblivious that they are on a similar journey
and should take life (or themselves) less seriously, instead of turning every
event into drama.
This newer love
of life has mostly been realized in the aftermath of my father’s death 7 months
ago. Now I have (almost) got over the philosophical barrier of accepting the inevitability
of death, I am now engaged in indulging myself (and others) in the time left on
this earth. My weariness stems from the fact that I do not know how.
It is like sitting
in front of a table of goodies of every type of food I have ever favoured but unable
to decide which to start on, knowing very well eating too much of one thing would
deprive me of another. (This is actually a daily decision for me, the food,
that is, because not only am I middle aged, I am also now amply middle spread).
I have indulged
more in my hobby of Jazz, now involved in the history and learning many
delightful secrets in the cross-over to funk and soul. I am learning not to
take myself too seriously, particularly as in the aftermath of my father’s
passing, many school mates of mine, mostly younger, have suddenly passed into eternity,
making a mockery of all the birthday wishes they had only recently received, granting
them long life and posterity. Similarly, my jazz idols are quickly increasing
the throngs of musicians who have gone underground, and recently listening to music
by Jeff Golub, Chuck Loeb, Ronny Jordan, Joe Sample, Al Jarreau, Wilton Felder,
to name a few, reminded me that these musicians all played in my lifetime while
I was living and breathing, but they are no longer playing.
Or putting down
my ideas about how I feel about life and not feel self-conscious about it.
The point of
these musings? One must enjoy life to the fullest, give the Creator His due
praise for this opportunity to enjoy life, make the best of what one has, smile
more at strangers, turn work into a positive challenge (I am glad for what I
have achieved today) instead of a daily treadmill with nothing to look forward
to, other than your bed. Which one may not get out of tomorrow.
Bullying Tactics
I recently read
a comment on one of the various boards that take up all my tablet’s memory on
WhatsApp. It was by this guy who refused to join in the camaraderie of old students
reminiscing about school because he had been a victim of serial bullying. As a
result, he had hated it so much. What I could not understand was why he wanted
to be part of a group which was testament to the most miserable time of his
life. It might have been therapeutic for him, but the cynic in me kept
whispering that he wanted the rest of us to feel guilty as he regarded us as complicit
in his predicament.
The truth is,
bullying at the time was not just systemic, it was institutionalised.
Apparently, it was meant to develop character. I am sure it actually broke lots
of spirits but we stoically took on the unspoken mantra that it would make us
stronger, better individuals. (Listening to Wayman Tisdale, another one who was
taken too early). As a junior (first three years in boarding school), I cannot
remember or count the number of times I was asked to kneel down with both my
arms raised, usually on gravel, for some perceived wrong. The stupid thing is
that both the Punisher and the Tortured were aware that the punishments would
not rectify or right any wrongs. One of the quotations bandied about at the time
was, “In the jungle, might is right”, straightaway reducing our humanity to the
very basest of animalistic existence. If you watch wildlife programs like I do,
then you would realise there were two classes, the predators and the survivors.
In today’s
climate of retribution and recompense, one could very well justify suing the
Education system that encouraged the perceived abuse of vulnerable young boys.
But who would you point a finger at? I remember coming home and telling my
father stories of the horrors I had witnessed and been put through, sometimes
embellishing my accounts to full effect in order to extract as much pity as I
could from him. Sometimes, in an effort to elicit the last bit of sympathy, I used
other people’s accounts of what had happened to them. The truth is that you may
not even have survived that particular ordeal. He in turn told me stories of
his school days which left me traumatized and scared to sleep at night, making
my account sound like some 1st July beach party!
So it does seem
strange that we are slapping each other on the back, self-congratulatory and
perhaps that is why others cannot understand the “Band of Brothers” mentality.
It does speak volumes though that I would not tolerate that kind of behavior or
abuse to be imposed on my children. Maybe, the person I was referring to before
could start up yet another social media platform for survivors of Boarding
Schools. Who knows? He might get the audience he is looking for. I might even
join myself, just note that I could be giving accounts of others than myself…
Christmas Issues
At the end of
the year, as the manager, I face the dilemma which I hope others face too. What
do I get my staff? Will just a card do? Is there an obligation to reward staff
for the hard work we have been through these last 12 months? The ordeals we
have faced together? Do you reward the hard-working ones, and ignore the
slackers or the trouble makers (if you have any)?
What is appropriate?
What is not? Somewhere I used to work, I wrote in one card, “Well done for all
your hard work”. In another’s card, I wrote, “Thank you so much for all you
have done”. I thought I was going for variety. So imagine my surprise when the
lady who received the latter card accosted me in the corridor and asked me, “Do
I not work hard enough?”. Surprised and perplexed, I responded in the
affirmative. “Why then did you write ‘thank you for all you have done?’ People
are going to think we slept together or something!!!”
So I changed the
wording in the card. I had given everybody a card voucher, each of the same
value, but now I was paranoid, would somebody misinterpret what I had given to
mean something else? Would the clothing shop voucher people think I wanted them
to get lingerie? Would the book voucher recipients think that I had issues with
their apparent lack of reading skills? Thankfully, nobody came back to me.
This year, I am
going to play it safe and give Amazon vouchers. But what if they do not have an
Amazon Account? If they were forced to set up an Amazon account, could I be
later accused of encouraging them to spend outside their means? Would their spouses
or partners perceive this gift to be a threat in case they didn’t get them any presents?
Could that cause a rift in their relationships? What if their relationship
troubles caused them stress so that they had to stay off work? Would I need to
employ temps? Would my staffing budget stretch to sick leave and temps? If they
used the Amazon voucher for a toy that was recalled but they did not get the
notice and the toy hurt their offspring or pet, could I be sued? Would I be liable
or my employer? Could my employer sack me for being generous?
Ow, my head
hurts, I am now tired of life and contemplating the futility of it all……..
My musical recommended offering
this festive season is Walter Beasley’s Free Your Mind. Enjoy!
Have a merry Christmas and a happy new
year.
