I’ve always valued my friends. At one time I thought friends were more important than
family. But over the years I’ve had the feeling that many of my friends weren’t
really good friends. Sure, they start off with promise but then drift into... acquaintances? They fade away. Faded friends; I have a few hundred. Goodfriends? Now there’s just a few. I’m almost at a stage where I’m developing a points system. Rob would be a six, David is a
One mate had a little kid brother who used to spend hours on his skiffle-board in the shallow
waters of Blairgowrie Beach on the Mornington Peninsula. Skim the board, run after it, jump on and ride. Sometimes good. Sometimes poor. Now and then spectacular. He was surrounded by older kids who didn’t pay him much attention unless he
wiped-out with a hard landing on his hip or his back. As we all got into serious surfing along the Victorian coast it became harder to shake off this kid so we occasionally let him join us on
our weekend surf trips.
A few years passed and the little kid brother was still the kid brother but he wasn’t staying
little. High school education was completed and drinking and good times were more
tempting than surfing trips. Then he met Sue and she was more appealing and tempting as
well, so I didn’t see much of them. But he kept in touch and he kept growing. Just on six
foot and handsome with light brown wavy hair. He had the smile of a model but Graeme
could never contemplate mincing down a cat walk! No! No! Not our Graeme! But the way
he walked used to puzzle me for some reason. At times I would even chuckle when I
guessed he was exaggerating his swagger. Wide shoulders back, standing tall, swinging
his arms, he’d take these long purposeful strides. Longest strides I’ve ever seen.
Surfing is contagious and the virus had got to me.
On Monday morning, after a
beautiful weekend at Bells Beach, I went into the advertising agency where I
worked and resigned. Three weeks later I was in Perth, WA, trying to get a job in
the newly opened iron ore mines like Mt Tom Price and Mt Newman. There was a
“recession”, which was a new word at the time, and no-one was hiring. I was
dreaming of saving enough money in one year so I could travel to South Africa to
surf. Out of desperation I finally took a job in Port Hedland as a chainman or Surveyors
assistant. The pay was pitiful and the conditions disgusting. The Pilbara region is remote
and so isolated that the nearest radio station was in Perth 1320 kms away and reception
was patchy at best and then only at night. I gutted it out for a year.
Back in Melbourne for two weeks to say goodbye to family and friends before I sailed to
South Africa. My brother Bob had decided to join me as well as Chris, a surfing mate.
Graeme and Sue were busy with study but we met a few times for dinner and drinks.
They had always been great company. Sue would shriek with glee at anything remotely
funny while Graeme would watch on with his cherubic smile. Humour is a powerful potion
and laughter seemed to be a constant with us. Sue was almost finished at Teachers
College while Graeme was flying through his Surveying degree. Surveying? That was it!
That walk of his was the walk of an explorer! It announced, very loudly, “Get out of my
way. I’m mapping Australia and nothing will stop me! Not mountains, deserts, rivers. So
Sturt, Hume, Eyre, Burke and Wills, STEP ASIDE!”
My office was on the first floor and it looked down on the endless
traffic as it nudged its way to the financial City. Part of my job was
interviewing models, would-be models, dolly birds, singers, actresses
and dreamers. Most of them would lucky to find work as waitresses.
The company had offices all over the U.K. but all personnel
placement and planning was done by our team in Fleet St. I was
Surfing was in its infancy and the deserted coastline of South Africa was a dream. Chris,
Bob and I all surfed Jeffreys Bay for three days with no-one else in the water. Durban
down to Cape Town and then along the Atlantic coast, it was a surfing heaven. We all
worked night shift on the docks with the Zulus in Durban so we could surf during the day
but eventually, after exploring southern Africa up to the Congo border, we flew to London.
A three week trial in a marketing role for a magazine led to a full time job in Fleet Street.
single and in my mid- twenties so, quite naturally, I was more interested in the flow of
pretty girls than in planning marketing campaigns.
A heap of mail was on my desk one winter morning. I thought “Here we go again, another
twenty applications from “would be’s.” I glanced at them one by one, checked the photos
and so on, before dropping them into the files or into the rubbish bin. Then I saw the air-
mail letter. It was addressed to me but I had extreme difficulty in reading my name and the
address. The writing was similar to Egyptian hieroglyphics. More accurately, it appeared
that two ants had climbed out of an ink bottle and danced across the envelope. I suspected
a prank and laughed with delight when I saw that the sender was G. MacNamara.
I did write to Gra and Sue, and a few other friends, but it was very spasmodic. The London
scene was pretty heady and distractions were everywhere. My parents had given up on
me but I felt that a letter every five or six months was a good effort. Graeme and Sue were
building their careers and studying hard. They didn’t write to me very often. So this letter
was a real surprise. Was it written under the influence of alcohol? Or something else? I
doubted it. I made a cuppa and settled down to read their news. I couldn’t decipher a word!
What is this? Reading very slowly and with extreme care I de-coded it.
HelloMate,
HoPeYoucan understandthewriting. Thisis myfirst attempt at writing with my left
hand.IWASleading a teamof surveyors inWesternqueensland. Wewerein three
vehicles and mapping along the 144th meridian setting ground stations for the
Dept of National Development Mapping. There were six of us and I was the chief
surveyor. We had started out from MT iSA and thenthrough the channel country at
Boulia and Bedourie.itisdryand remote and the distancesareimmense. Thereis not much
out there except cattle and sheep and dinosaur fossils. the 16thdayof october1968
was just another working day. wewere marking at onedegreeintervals andwe just
stopped at that lastposition to make camp for the night. Everyone had their job of
course. Unloading. Settinguptents and cooking. Each night I would make contact with
our headquarters inMelbourne. I put the radioonthe hood of thelandroverand sent the
telescopic antennae skyward.
22,000volts exploded down the aerial into my right arm throwing me 5 metresfrom the
vehicle. They tookme to Tangorin which was the nearest town. WHEN they thought
Imight survive they took me to Hughenden which istwohundred kilometres north and
has a small hospital.three days later they flew me to Melboutne and into the operating
theatre for the first operation. There have been so many operations now that I have
lost count. THERE is still a chance I will lose my arm. They harvest tendons from my legs
and feet plus nerve connections. Seems it will never end. I came out of hospital to get
married (yesmate, married at twenty one) and went back in a few days later for another
operation. this time they harvested skin from my thighs. Even when all the ops are done,
Idon’t think Iwill ever have much use of my arm.it is still so difficultfor me to
comprehend what happened but the only power lines for a thousand kilometres were
overheadwhenIsent the aerial up.It’s soeffing hard to believe.
I don’t know how I lost the original “drunk- ant letter” but emotionally, at the time, it
flattened me. I read it again. Then again. The writing was clearer each time. How
long did it take him to complete it? Days. Overwhelmingly, I was aware of one
Graeme and Sue (two on left) thought “whatever occurs, I will remain
good friends with Graeme and Sue for the rest of my life.” And, needless to say, we have
passed the fifty year mark just recently.
Graeme and Sue have their own large surveying company. Sue is still teaching and
Graeme still puts in long hours. He was classified with 80% loss of use in his arm but that
has now progressed to approximately 90% loss with ongoing deterioration.
And, of course, if I was using my rating system for friends, they would be on ten points. I
don’t know very much about anything except there is nothing better in the world than long
term friendship.
John A Wilson, January
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