This biographic story was written for, and about, an Australian Vietnam Veteran. He actually requested that I attempt it. When I had completed it, I was extremely anxious about his reaction. Fortunately he loved it. So do I! I think it captures his spirit and pain fairly well.
Some would say I had a privileged upbringing but what would they know? Sent to private schools in Adelaide and Sydney but, again, so what? Arrogant bloody teachers who belted you if you sneezed. Sadists who picked on anyone for nothing. Even when there was absolutely zilch, they would still find it and I’d get another hammering. When it wasn’t me it would be another kid. School results meant nothing to me but I would’ve gone insane if it
wasn’t for sports. Team sports, like rugby union, gave me some sense of belonging. Gave me strength and purpose as well. Other pupils gave me a hard time too, with their picking and bullying. But that all stopped one day when I grabbed the prick who was needling me and threw him down a flight of stairs. Then the school wanted to throw me out in the street
but didn’t for some unknown reason.
All I ever wanted to do for work was be a game warden for African wildlife. I was obsessed with this career from a really young age. I tried everything to qualify for a chance to work in the South African game reserves but it was a closed book. Non-South Africans were not accepted! So forget it. They can go and get stuffed (the government and the rule makers that is-not the animals, haha.)
Finally, finally, I got away from school at sixteen to work on a big cattle and sheep property in north east New South Wales. Real bush. Real mountains. Real animals. Real cold. I was so happy I was sure it was one long, wonderful dream. Then the Vietnam war started, or more correctly, Australia joined in and the call up commenced. I went to Vietnam with the Infantry in 1970, aged 20. Vietnam gave me belonging. Mateship. I’d never known it before. Australians carry their memory of war with a special reverence, a passion, and if you haven’t been to war you most likely have no idea what I’m talking about. Let me tell you: it is irreplaceable, this mateship and support. I found a home in the army barracks. I was certainly angry when I went to Vietnam but I was even angrier when I
got back to Adelaide and experienced this barely controlled contempt directed at the Vietnam Vets. No effing understanding of what we had been through and we had no hope of trying to shatter the indifference all around us.
The first girl to go out with me a few times I married and we spent a few months trying to settle down. Settle down to what? Marriage bliss? Suburban idealism? Give me a break! Adelaide with its conformity and sameness. All that mattered was which suburb you lived in and what school your parents could afford. So we escaped for the UK and Europe as
soon as we saved enough. Left my father and mother behind as well, thank god! And my sister, Sally.
I’m not sure if I hated my father but I’m positive I hated my mother. Let there be no doubt. Dad was an ex RAAF officer and then worked in Insurance. Sat on a few company boards. He wasn’t around much and didn’t get involved with his kids at all. He drank his scotch and disappeared to his bowls club. Giving something your full attention is “being there”. Isn’t that right? Being there? You mean “never there” don’t you. He was never there. Never. Mum was disappointed when the first born was a boy. They named him Richard and started praying the next would be a girl. Six years later a girl arrived. But she was followed a few minutes later by her brother. Lovely twins, Sally and Leigh. Sally got truckloads of love and attention from Mum but somehow, right from the start, she forgot I was there as well. She forgot I was there for my entire fucking life. Maybe she didn’t forget, maybe she wished I wasn’t there at all. Not maybe…there’s no doubt about it.
So we fled to London to escape it all. We loved England and Europe on our doorstep. We both worked in office temp jobs so we met all kinds of people and all kinds of nationalities. We started sharing a flat with Keith and Lyn who were Aussies. We became great friends
and travelled together. Another bloke was a bit older than us and a bit up himself also became a friend after we worked in the same office. John ran a petrol station at night as well as doing the day job. He also sold a bit of hash oil on the side to pay for his flash car which he was bringing back to Aus. Occasionally he’d pick me up and we would purr along in the Jensen Interceptor to Wembley for work. Most of the time we rattled there in his old VW beetle. He thinks he taught me a bit about life and how to ride the earthquakes and bad
experiences when they hit. Maybe he did but I’d never tell him.
Eventually we left London. We almost left our marriage there as well. Johanne
flew back to Adelaide while I crossed half the world with a tour group. I don’t know if this was the happiest period of my life but it was close. I fell for one of the girls in our travel group. I was screwing Marie every thirty minutes for four months; who wouldn’t be happy?
We ditched Adelaide in favour of Melbourne. It was an easy decision. Johanne and I got serious about making our marriage work and settled down. Bought a house and renovated. The marriage survived against the odds. Johanne was pregnant and we were into suburban bliss. Our daughter Kelly came along. Bliss ended when we discovered she had a severe case of cerebral palsy. A year later I accepted a job offer and we moved to Brisbane. By this time we had been conditioned to the difficulties of having a handicapped girl. We had a house, a pool, cars and hope. Ben was born and he was healthy. And he loved his sister. I was running a lot and keeping the weight off. Johanne was drinking each night and putting the weight on. Funny that!
Mum and Dad would visit about every three years. Call in and have a whinge and a cuppa. Mum would moan and complain about anything and everything except Sally. Whatever Sally wanted, Sally was given. It was Sally. Sally. Sally. When Mum did ring about once a year, she would ask about Kelly and then talk about Sally for twenty minutes.
I wasn’t really angry with Sally. Just pissed off that it was the way it was. I couldn’t change it so I relied on humour more and more. Black humour if you like but I wanted to be funny. And I was…people laughed and that was the proof. I wanted approval. I wanted attention. If Mum and Dad couldn’t supply it I’d find it somehow. Occasionally I would say something a bit harsh or insensitive but tough cookie! Everything Oscar Wilde said wasn’t funny either, was it?
A waitress brings four wine glasses to our table. My glass has a crack in it. “Please bring me a new glass… I came here for a drink not a cleft palate!”
My flat white coffee finally arrives but the saucer is full of milky coffee…”Excuse me can you find me a beach towel so I can mop this up!”
I know! I know! The comedian hiding his pain behind the mask of a clown. But what do you want me to do?
Kelly died fairly suddenly, aged seventeen. Nobody had said anything but I really tried to be
a full-on dad. I’m sure I succeeded in being the parent who is there for his kids. I loved Kelly more than I imagined I could love. We slowly recovered from the loss and Ben got double the attention. Our life wasn’t bad as long as Mum didn’t visit. Even Johanne couldn’t tolerate the complaining. But our marriage was slowly choking both of us and we knew it. We had hit the wall as runners say or reached the end of the highway and there’s no place to hide.
Then I met Judi and we fell in love like teenagers.
We struggled financially for the first years after moving in together but we survived the shit a lot of our friends put on us. Slowly this little earthquake settled. Johanne took Ben and went back to Adelaide to be near her family. We saved hard and bought a house after we got married. This was another happy time in my life. Mum and Dad visited once or twice and when they did it was the same
circus of moans and complaints. Thank Christ they don’t live in the same state as
us. Dad still escaped to the bowls club and drank more scotch than ever. He died in 2001. His will was to donate his body to the Physiotherapy unit at Adelaide University and to this day there hasn’t been any memorial service or a chance to say hooroo! Hopefully he is up there rolling some bowls along on a nice green. Mum and Sally go shopping and
drink anything. They’re not interested in a single thing we do. Not a fucking single thing.
Interesting isn’t it? I have a prodigious memory and I pride myself on being able to talk about anything. Animals. Politics. Television productions. History. Music. Geography. Religion. There is no problem talking about any of these things as far as I’m concerned. The real problem is finding people to talk at, sorry, with!
The days drag by and the years fly by (who said that?). Judi and I have a daughter. Samantha. She is our treasure. Ben decided that he preferred living in Brisbane with me years earlier and had been a big part of Judi and my life for ten years. I basically brought him up. He and I have been very close through all these years. I’m very proud of him and I tried so hard to guide him with love and patience. I happily flew him back to South Australia regularly so he would connect with his mum and her family. I was sure I had
done a fine job with his education and upbringing. It was like I was stabbed in the back when he spat the dummy and fled to Adelaide with his young family. I tried to understand his motives but I still can’t get it.
Yes, you probably guessed. I’m now over sixty and Judi and I have been doing the slow continental drift apart. I work at home in my own business while Judi is out all day and some nights working on her business. Talk about being the first pebble to roll and start a landslide! Well, the pebble moved a fair way when we separated. The world split in two. Half my world disappeared. Hard to handle. No, you don’t handle it. You cope by withdrawing. And waiting for something called healing to begin.
Then this tsunami came in a phone call a few months ago. Johanne called from Adelaide. She and Sally have always chatted and had a laugh together.
“I’ve got some bad news for you, Leigh. I’m sorry to tell you that your mum has died. She died about four months ago and was cremated. Sally couldn’t tell you. I don’t know who has the ashes. The family home and all the furniture was left entirely to Sally. The two sons were left out. Sally has sold the house already and left the country I think. I really don’t know where she is.”
What kind of person waits four months to tell family their mother is dead? How can my sister be capable of such a contemptable act?
All the time she was talking anger shook me. The rock is rolling down that mountain now and there is going to be a massive avalanche! My guns! Where are the guns! I’ll find her AND I’LL FUCKING KILL HER!
I book a flight to Adelaide. I realise I can’t get through security with the guns. How can she do this to us? Who does she think she is? When I find her I’ll know what to do. I’ve had two guns fully cleaned and ready for use since Vietnam. Shit. Shit. Shit. I drive around Adelaide but it’s the proverbial needle and haystack. I visit the police. They can’t help. I go to some lawyers. They confirm the sale has been completed. I go to the real estate agents. They confirm the house valuation was $1.25 million and Sally accepted the first offer of $940,000. No one has any idea of where Sally is or might be. Thailand is a guess. I hire a private investigator and fly home to Brisbane.
A few weeks later the last bomb was thrown at me. The house wasn’t left to Sally in the will. Mum signed ownership of the house over to Sally back in 2004. It was mortgage free. Paid stamp duty and legal fees and the house belonged to Sally. No Will to be contested. No arguments to be entered into. Sally has owned the house for over ten years. I can’t fucking believe it.
There is not a lot more to add to this saga. Did I really need proof of how much love I missed out on? Thank you Mum and Dad for doing your best to completely fuck up my life. You couldn’t have shown your lack of feeling for me in any other way. Did you ever contemplate just how much damage your disinterest affected me ? I would like to ask both of you one final question and you have to answer…What were you trying to prove by giving the house to Sally? How did you think we would accept it? I know the answer. You didn’t care how we felt. It is so blatantly obvious. Sometimes when I’m with friends who have warm, loving parents I sense what I missed out on, but mostly I know that I have had an extraordinary life in spite of you.
I’ve learned that Sally is living in a gated community in Adelaide but this is still to be confirmed.
I still have the two loaded guns.
Finally, I haven’t forgotten the Eleventh Commandment: “Thou shalt laugh especially at yourself”. (Anon)
ope never abandons you. You abandon it.” (George Weinberg)
“The world is a tragedy for those who feel and a comedy for those who think. (Anon) “Life begins on the other side of despair.” (John Paul Satre)
Written by John A Wilson as a friend of Leigh Hancock and also as a tribute. May he survive more “tsunamis” in the future. May he also love more in the future as well.
Gold Coast, April 2016
A super story this one JAW!