To Home, With Love...

How do you thank someone who has taken you from crayons to perfume?

It isn’t easy but I’ll try.

 

When Lulu sang these words in To Sir With Love it was a dedication to the teacher who had guided her into adulthood. I would like to make a similar dedication – to a house. This week I say goodbye to the house that I grew up in. It has been a part of my life for all of my 32 years. 

 

Leading up to this week I had thought that the only thing I would be upset about is leaving my cat, Bobby, who is buried in the backyard. But something has changed this week and I have been shedding tears and losing sleep like a crazy person. Over a house! Over some land, wood, tiles, carpet, electrics and plumbing. It seems so ridiculous to me. So I have been questioning why this is affecting me so much. At first I wondered if it was because I am grieving the loss of my childhood. But I don’t think so because I have four kids, so I am reliving my childhood everyday – and it is even better the second time around!

 

Losing my family home feels like losing a family member. This house has aged with me, it has been damaged by me, and yet it has still been good to me by keeping me warm and sheltered.

 

I am losing the biggest comfort blanket I've ever had – and it has been with me for as long as I can remember.

 

When I lived in the UK and dreamed of coming home, I didn’t dream of just anywhere in New Zealand – I dreamed of that house, those rooms, that driveway.

 

I know that this is self-indulgent, but when I started writing this blog, it was so I could get all my thoughts and feelings out of me in a creative way. And at the moment I am over-flowing with the need to say goodbye and thank you to an old family friend.

 

Every inch of that house has a memory attached to it - a lot of them terrible, but many more are truly great. I want to take some time to give just a small glimpse into some of those memories. I would hope that anyone could relate to them. My home and my family is not more special or different than any other. So hopefully my self-indulgence will have moments of familiarity to you, Maybe it will even help you appreciate the comfort blankets that you have, while you still have them. 

 

My parents room

• Sneaking into bed with mum and dad
• Pretending that the bed was a boat and we took turns being sharks

 The bathroom

• Sharing so many baths with my sisters and brother
• Fainting when I had the flu (the only time in my life I have done so) and hitting my head on the bath

 The toilet

• For some reason I was the one brave enough to be on plumbing duty. Fun times in a family of six.

 The second bedroom

• Having a secret hiding place in the closet with my cousin, where she told me some things about Santa that frankly, I am still in denial about.
• Singing to the mirror using my brush as a microphone. (Anything from the Footloose soundtrack. Let's hear it for the boy! )

 The third bedroom

• Lying in bed and twisting the curtains, then letting them go and watching them spin.
• Trying to stay awake in bed till dad got home, so he could give me a hug, spin me around the room and say goodnight.
• Playing murder in the dark, charades, and building a fort!
• Throwing my sister's stereo across the room and smashing it against the wall. (Don't make a tween angry).

The ‘fourth bedroom’

• Originally a hall way, then a play room, then the smallest bedroom ever! (My bedroom for my teen years)
• Having no wall paper, so the walls got covered in messages from friends and family
• Waking up early to do the paper run
• Banging on the wall because the TV was too loud!
• Having my boyfriend (now husband) come to my window to say goodnight.
• The twin's nursery when we came back from the UK

The kitchen

• Mum's cooking! Chop suey, sweet and sour pork, pineapple cake...mmmmmmmm
• Failing at cooking rice because I didn't add water, and at cooking mashed potatoes because I didn't boil them. (I was not a clever child).

The conservatory

• Originally a balcony, it was used as a dance floor when first built.
• So many great parties!
• VHS, DVDs, spare bed, cane furniture - no room for parties anymore.
• So loud when it rained.

 The driveway

• Distributing the Auckland Star to the delivery boys and girls
• Washing the car, birthday parties, lolly scrambles, squirt with a hose on hot days
• Peeing on the doorstep after school because no one was home and I couldn't hold it. (TMI?)

 The front yard

• Handstands
• 'Salt, pepper or mustard'
• Gardening very early on a Saturday morning

 The back yard

• Kids pool, going down to the creek, lying out in the sun or the shade
• Trampoline - which was stolen after about a decade without us noticing for who knows how long (Hey, did you get rid of the tramp? No it's still there. No it's not. Who steals a tramp?)

 The lounge and dining room

• Where so much life happened - every topic has been discussed and every emotion has been experienced around that table.
• Finding out that we had lost grandpa, nana...friends, family...
• Awkward and awful family meetings
• Christmas! (Trying to take a peek into the lounge to see the presents when there was a wall separating the dining room - but not being allowed till we had eaten breakfast.)
• Creating dances and putting on shows for family (If only it had stayed in the family).
• Aunties and cousins laughing hysterically at the WWF
• So much laughter!
• So many games!
• Rugby World Cup 2011! (And every major, and even not-so-major, sporting event before then)
• My twin girls taking their first steps - hilarious!

 

The memories are not restricted to the house. That street was so great to grow up in. Perfect for riding your bike. My cousin and I had our own 'Bicycle Olympics' going at one point. (Yes - we were that cool). There is the park down the road, the bus stop where I would catch the bus to school, even the dairy where the owners still recognise me when I walk in.

 

It will be so hard to say goodbye, but I have not really lived in that house since I was 19, so I know that I carry it all with me. It reminds me to treasure the memories I am making with my own little family.

 

When my husband and I bought our first home it was only a five minute walk away from my parents. We our now in our second home, and my parents are moving a five minute walk away from us. Their new house is beautiful and I can see great times ahead for all of us.

But first, I have to say goodbye to my home.

 

Goodbye Heathberry Close. You were a wonderful home. Thank you for being so good to us. Sorry if we ever took you for granted. You will always be a blessing. I'll miss you. Love Gwen xo

Making a difference

Like most children , I went through a  phase when I really wanted to be famous. A big reason for that was because I loved to perform. I loved the idea of people looking up at me adoringly on a stage. But for a long time what was most appealing was the thought that even after I  was gone from this good earth – I would be remembered. I had a huge fear of death – but mostly I was afraid that my life would not matter.

The thought of roaming about the planet for 80 odd years and not being remembered terrified me – and the only answer to that in my eyes was fame. A song can last forever, well after you’re gone.

The flaw in this plan is that the pages of all the magazines in the world are filled with tell-alls of people who are not remembered fondly. I love reading history, biographies and autobiographies. Even a good E! True Hollywood Story has its own allure. But who wants to be remembered for some of the things that the “rich and famous” are remembered for?

Lady Diana was probably  the most famous and loved person of my generation, and yet she is still the topic of scandal,  gossip and rumour.

So as I got older I realised that there was a better way to be remembered, and that was by ‘making a difference’.

The problem with trying to make a difference is that it feels too big. I don’t feel special enough to be able to make a difference in the world, my country, or even my community. I’m not brave enough, smart enough or talented enough for it.

I’m not trying to be self-deprecating. I possess the right level of self-belief. I’m just being realistic.

Malala Yousafzai

I read about Malala Yousafzai, the Muslim girl from Pakistan who was shot by a Taliban gunman because she knew that she, and all Muslim girls have a right to an education, and she raised her voice accordingly. I am more than double her age and she is already braver than I could hope to be – and she was already an inspiration before she was shot.

We have many people in our midst who are heroes in their own way. People who see a need and a way to meet that need. Sam Johnson, the organiser of the Student Volunteer Army in the aftermath of the Christchurch earthquakes, is just one great Kiwi example of this.

There is so much that needs to be done in my neighbourhood, especially for children. We all know by now that there are kids in New Zealand who are in desperate need of a hero. I’d love to think I could be that person  – but I wouldn’t know where to begin! Some days it is a struggle to be a hero for my own kids, let alone anyone else’s.

Mahatma Gandhi

One day I may have the opportunity to make a difference on the scale of Malala, Sam or the other great heroes of history. I am still open to that possibility. Afterall, you never know the impact that your words or actions may have. Something I say or do could help someone else to change the world – hopefully for the better. But the reality is that the majority of us won’t have that impact.

In fact, many of us will be forgotten in a generation. That is the thought that at one time terrified me, but does not scare me at all anymore. That changed for me on the day that I had my twins. It is hard to explain, but when they were born, I just started to feel that as long as I do right by them - nothing else matters. And if I do wrong by them, nothing could make up for it.

I have reconciled myself to the fact that I will screw my kids up in some way. They will blame me for some quirk in their behaviour – but I am also certain that the good that I am doing as their mum, is far outweighing the bad. I know I am biased but they are wonderful human beings.

I don’t see myself as being the type of person who has a made-for-TV movie made out of my life. So much good is achieved and lost in a lifetime anyway. The only positive change that could last longer than me, that I can see myself making, is through my kids.

So what if by some miracle later in life I end up winning an EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony) – or even better – Britain’s National Television Award. It will all mean nought if I have not actively shown love to those closest to me – my wonderful husband, my adorable children and my loving friends and family. The difference you make to those around you is what is important.


Nelson Mandela

I am reminded as a write this though that Jesus said, “If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners do the same.” 

This could be perceived as being comparable to the challenge to make a difference in the world – too much of an ask. But it doesn’t have to be. This might surprise you, but  I don’t have to travel half way around the world to find people who do not like me.  They are everywhere!

Don’t feel bad for me because I’m sure that the same goes for you.

What this means to me is that every day, I have the opportunity to love those who love me – which is easy. But I also have the opportunity to love those who don’t like me, perhaps even hate me – and who I wouldn’t mind avoiding like the plague either – which is extremely hard .

I’m not going to pretend that I am always able to do both. In fact most of the time I don’t even want to try. But the days where I can do both, are the days I know that I am making a better world in my own small way. Perhaps if we all focused on finding ways to love both groups of people – the ones who hate us and the ones who love us – we really would make a difference. Just a thought.

 

 

 

And in other news...

I like to keep myself informed of current events from my nation and around the world. However, over the past few years I have found myself drifting further and further away from the nightly television news report. I can only handle a certain amount of bad news, but that is not the only reason for this. It is also because the news is tending to make me more and more angry. Unfortunately this is not a righteous anger that is formed out of a disgust at the atrocities taking place around our world. Instead it is an anger at the standards of reporting, which at best leaves me with more questions than answers, and at worst spins me off into a rave.

The questions are often never-ending and for years I have felt like a dunce because I do not understand what on earth people are talking about. Only recently has it dawned on me that I am not a dunce – the journalists are. But perhaps that is too harsh. I am sure they are highly intelligent people who understand what they are reporting on, but it is not their job to educate – it is their job to get ratings and push their agenda.

Is that too cynical of me? The other alternative is that they are just plain lazy and expect that the news is the motivator for us to go out and find more information on our own.

 I do not know what the reason behind it is – all I know is that when I tune in at 6pm, I am not getting the news, but a buttoned-up version of Entertainment Tonight.

My most recent rave was on the day that the new social development reforms were passed. Since I do not rely on television for this information – I knew what most of these reforms were, but I was expecting to hear an overview of them. Actually I was looking forward to this as I was watching this with my husband and I knew he would not know anything about them so it would be great to have something else to talk about. (If you have read my earlier blog on The Unexpected Benefits of Parenting, you’ll understand why).

However I did not hear any mention on what the reforms actually were. Instead the majority of the report was spent on an administration error -  a letter was sent to someone by WINZ informing them that they had been overpaid by 1 cent, which had to be returned, otherwise they would need to repay 2 cents.

I knew exactly how this report was going to go. The minister in  opposition will complain that this is a waste of time and money. The social development minister will say this is obviously a mistake and measures will be put in place to ensure it doesn't happen again. End of.

I must be an oracle because that is exactly what happened. They did not mention the actual reforms and their impacts at all. This is the kind of reporting I loathe. And where in the news report was this story? You might think it was in the final ‘and in other news’ spot at the end of the show – where stories like this belong. But no – it was the second story of the night.

The only good thing about this report is that at least two sides of an argument were presented – as meaningless as it was. However, the next time you watch the news, count how many reports are given where only one side of the story is told, or the full picture is not given. Does anyone who is not a teacher know why charter schools are bad? I am a parent and I would love to know but the news isn't telling me. Does anyone who is not in Christchurch know why the government has to close so many schools? I care about what is happening in my nation, especially Christchurch, but all I see on the news is a lot of angry people and no one explaining why their demands are not being met. If you do know the answer to these questions – was it the nightly news that told you, or did you have to find out some other way?

I live in South Auckland and so I am used to hearing lots of bad news about the area I live in. I do not expect news stories about the great goings on in Manurewa. However, it does annoy me, even bore me that there seems to be only one story to tell. If the news were a soap opera, people would stop tuning in because you are constantly seeing the same thing happen over and over again, year after year. Just like the love triangle between Ridge, Brooke and Taylor in The Bold and the Beautiful – and that’s been cancelled in NZ.

There is so much going on in our nation and our world. Why do we have to keep hearing about the same things?  One thing that the Kony 2012 campaign by Invisible Children taught me is that people have the capacity to learn and care about so much more than what is currently presented to us. They just need to be presented with the unbiased facts – and rightly or wrongly most people rely on the nightly news to do this.

Thank goodness for Google.

In summary, here is a clip of someone who is much more intelligent, funny and cynical than me, giving his version of what we receive each evening at 6pm. Here’s the great Charlie Brooker…