It’s May, 1998. I am standing on the crest of a mountain in the high country of Papua New Guinea, a place known to history as Brigade Hill. I am with my brother and sister and behind us lies a cairn commemorating the men of the 21st Australian Infantry Brigade, 2nd AIF who fought gallantly and boldly on this hill in 1942. Behind us is Menari. In front of us, Efogi. We are halfway up the Kokoda Trail. I am nearly 28 years old.
Fast forward to 2014 and I am contemplating the fact that I turned 44 yesterday and can’t believe that I am actually as old as that! Where does time go?
44. The number sticks in my throat as I say it. The years have slipped by almost in a blur and the amazing thing is I don’t feel any older than I did that day on Brigade Hill, all those years ago. Which I suppose is a good thing.
I have the odd ache and pain which I am sure didn’t niggle at me in 1998 as it does today. A sore shoulder from working the same job every day for years. A gammy leg which I hurt playing tennis a few months ago and has never gotten better. But overall I feel more comfortable within myself than I did in the late days of the 20th century. Maybe I am just improving with age?
Time slips away and we barely notice until, suddenly, silently and subtlety, middle age is upon you and the harsher days have receded in memory.
When I raced pushbikes in the dim, dark days of the 1980’s and the old timers talked of the two wheeled heroes of the past, the 1960’s seemed a world away, a time alien to me. Now, I look back on my own racing days and the years have stretched to a similar length and it seems like only yesterday.
I look out my bedroom window and Wanniassa, the suburb I live in stretches out before me and the high school I attended is laid out just as it was when I was a boy. Yes the world has changed but some things have stayed the same. The 16 year old me would still know and recognise his surrounds if he was fast forwarded to 2014. Perhaps there are a few things which are different but not much.
My uncle passed away earlier this week and I am not able to attend his funeral which is gnawing at me and soaking my bones in a guilty stew. I hadn’t seen much, if anything of him in the last twenty years but in my youth when I stayed with my grandmother in country Victoria he was always around and I knew him well. He is the second of my father’s siblings to pass away and although he is younger than my Dad I guess it is a harbinger of the future and a sign that nothing stands still in life. Friends, family, work, fun, laughter all must wither and pass in the end. It’s important to take a breather now and again and remember those things once important which have faded from our view as we plow the furrowed fields of life and sow our own destiny.
I hope I haven’t gotten too deep in this post but birthdays cause some reflection on where I have been and where I am going and it reinforces to me a notion I had many years ago which is to live my life with some enjoyment, don’t take it too seriously unless you have to and ignore those who cause you grief whilst trying to be pleasant to all you meet. It doesn’t always work out but I think it is a template to live by.
Winter is coming. But life is worth living. Enjoy it while you can, it doesn’t last forever.
(With apologies to George RR Martin for using a quote from “A Game of Thrones”)
Strange Notations From a Laborious Life 