Memory – Age 7

Rock drawing
I have always tried to live
straight up and down
But it seems that
no matter how much I tried,
trouble has always followed me,
wrong place,
wrong time..
dragging me 
off my feet
something always seems to get in my way,
and I come unstuck….
That trait seems to have followed me
through pretty much
all
of
my
life………..
This is another episode in my life I recall, when I was Age 7.

Rock fight on Exeter…

Rock Fight on Exeter©David L Page 2016
I had a posse of kids
Kids from up, and down the street
Some older, some kid brothers and sisters
Some similar in age as me,
going to pre-school together….
this was our street

Exeter Street_Wahroonga.2017.B+W v3.P1

We lived in a suburban area,
on the far north side of town
with many local areas still not developed
surrounded by bush – trees and wildlife…..
We ran the bushland….
we ran up the ridge
we ran through the creeks….
we kicked balls, and
sometime broke bottles
had billy cart races in the street..

 

We hung out in a tree house,
and in my parents old car….
We ran as a pack…
with not a care in the world
this was our street
we had fun all around here…

 

I recall this one day,
we were in our street,
chewing gum,
licking paddle pops,
probably kicking stones,
killing time as you did, as a kid
Exeter Street_Wahroonga.B+W v2.2017.P2
Another group of kids from across the ridge,
wondered out of the bush,
onto
our street…

 

We didn’t know these kids
they weren’t round these parts,
looks were exchanged
each group quickly sized up the others…

 

Comments were made,
and then more looks exchanged….
the situation quickly escalated to
a neighborhood standoff…

 

living in a developing area,
fringed with aussie bush,
there were lots stones and rocks around,
from the kerbs and gutters not quite formed yet….

pile-of-rocks_B+W.P1

One rock missile was launched (by them),
And then another…..
and then another…..
and then another…..

 

The ground around our group,
was being peppered with hits,
dust flicks, and rolling debris……

Concrete drain pipe_coloured.P2

I recall I took refuge within a large concrete drain pipe,
large enough for a..
for a 7 year old to get inside

 

I hid there for a few minutes,
Waiting for them to get bored,
to wander off,
to disappear…

 

But, the next sound I heard,
was a rock coming down the concrete pipe in which I hid,
from the other end..

 

It stopped way short
along its’ 20 yard length,
with me at the other end

 

then a second one came,
this time bouncing off the walls and ceiling,
but again fell well short…

 

and then a third one came..
this sounding faster, harder,
again bouncing off the walls and ceiling,
but again fell short…
of me at the other end

 

and then another one came..
sounding even faster,
sounding even harder,
but had lost most of its’ momentum
by the time it bounced past me
at the other end

 

and then another one came..
faster, and even harder,
and as I looked up to see
what I could see
down the pipe…

 

the rock collected me in the head,
instantly splitting my head in half……
or so it felt…
the pain was instant…
piercing my brain…
blood start squirting like water
out of a leaky plastic bag,
and all I could hear were
screams….

Blood dripping

I am sure the screams belonged to me,
But perhaps, also from my friends,
As they saw blood,
perhaps for the first time,
But clearly understood what had been done…

 

One grabbed their t-shirt off,
and held it to my head,
Another screamed off up the road
to get someone’s mother,
for her to come help

 

There was chaos on the street,
As though we’d been invaded…
By the kids from across the ridge,
Who wondered out of the bush,
onto our street…

 

A car arrived to rush me to hospital….
I needed stitching, fast
To slow the blood-flow down…..
There was chaos on the street,
As though we’d been invaded…
By the kids from across the ridge who
had just wondered out of the bush,
onto our street…

 

 

rock fight on Exeter
I will never forget
I recall I had about 14 stitches..
7 on top, and 7 within..
it turned out that my
“fate was held within a smidgeon of that split”
I recall some older person sighed…..

 

 

rock fight on Exeter
I will never forget
There had been chaos on the street,
that afternoon
As though we’d been invaded…
by the kids from across the ridge who,
had just wondered out of the bush,
onto our street…

 

 

rock fight on Exeter
I will never forget
the rock fight on Exeter
It was as if we’d been invaded…
By the kids from across the ridge who
had wondered out of the bush,
onto our street…

 

 

we had been just chewing gum,
killing time as you did
I will never forget
the rock fight on Exeter…..
the rock fight on Exeter
Street
“Rock Fight on Exeter” ©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.
DLP Youth pictures
The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 9.
References
Blood Dripping image courtesy of: Clipart Accessed 25th November, 2016
Concrete Pipe image courtesy of: Construction Solutions Accessed 25th November, 2016
DLP images courtesy of: DLP Slideshare Accessed 20th July, 2016
Exeter Road image courtesy of: Google maps Accessed 20th July, 2016
Exeter Road bush image courtesy of: Google maps Accessed 20th July, 2016
Page, David L. 2016. “Rock Fight on Exeter” ©David L Page 2016
Pile of Rocks image courtesy of: Rachel Teodoro Accessed 25th November, 2016
Rock throwing Post-It note image courtesy of: Rock Post-It Accessed 25th November, 2016
Rock Fight on Exeter …. audio link courtesy of: David L Page  Accessed 25th November, 2016
– ©David L Page 13/09/1992
– updated ©David L Page 15/09/2016
– updated ©David L Page 25/11/2016
Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.
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Memory – Age 14 – 16

The sun shining

This is another in-situated recollection of what I consider to have been a significant period in my life, when I was Age 14 to Age 16.

Looking for something (other than where I was..)

Looking for something (other than where I was)©David L Page 2016
The house was a lot quieter now, even if only due to a less number of people spending time there. My older sister and brother were both spreading their wings, spending little time at home, and preparing to leave on their own adventures – one overseas, and the other out into country Australia. Therefore it was essentially, me, my dog and my parents for much of this next stage.
I was going through the motions in both school and life. I spent a bit of time with my neighbours, but I recall I progressively spent most time with my dog.  She would would wait for me at 3pm everyday by the front fence to come home from high school. It was always great to see her. As soon as she caught sight of me, she would run, tail wagging and whimper with excitement. If I was late coming home, then at about 3:10pm she would come up to school to look for me. On the rare occasions this would happen, she would sniff me out and find me where ever I happened to be.
Trixie_1975_200 + 300.P1b
(Trixie 2016)
The ritual for me during this era was very much,
home, school,
home, school,
home, school,
home, school,
home, school,
home, school…….
I was spending more time immersed in radio and records, listening, listening, listening, listening…
Perhaps wandering what might have been…..
Hermit Crab.mid works
I recall receding back into my shell,
much like the Hermit Crabs I used to observe down on the beach.
I still played Saturday rugby,
but I wasn’t even minimally social – even at school…
 Killara Rugby.1974.600.The Works
(DLP 2016a)
One day I noticed a motorbike dumped on the street in our local area
It was an old beaten up …. something…. actually i had no idea what it was…… It was just sitting in the gutter of one of the side roads… like it had just been left there, unwanted…
A few days later my dad rang the Police for me….
“Take it home” they said..
“and if anyone reports it stolen, we will give you a ring..”

1967 Kawasaki GT90TR.The Works.jpg

(Kawasaki GA-3TR 90 2016a)
I rolled it home, and let it sit for a few more weeks, waiting for a call…
I was hoping no one would….
and so in anticipation I started checking out,
to see what was state it was in.
There was no key for the key start ignition…
it looked like the steering lock had been broken….
The bike was a little rusted in some parts from where it has been
standing out in the weather, and idle for a number of weeks….
The brakes seemed to work, though were in need of some attention…
I looked up the telephone book to find out where some motorcycles shops were……
And then rode my bicycle down there to ask some questions,
and try to find out what was before us……..
With the motorbike shop’s technical department, we scrolled through so many motorbike manuals, until I came across one particular model – a Kawasaki GA-3TR 90 … there it was…… (see image below of what the bike would have originally looked like)

1967 Kawasaki GT90TR.jpg

(Kawasaki GA-3TR 90 2016b)
Whilst it was old, parts were still accessible through the motorcycle shop ordering system. Now we had figured out what make and model the motorbike was, it was going to be a lot easier to work backwards, and decide what certain problems were with it, and how could I/we could fix it….
As it was old, the motorbike’s advice was to convert the bike into a on-road bike – an unregistered trail bike for me to use on the local fire trails. A bush basher..
I now had a new project…..

Developing a Plan

Using money from my mowing & pool cleaning business, the workshop at one of the local motorcycle shops, and occasionally at the workshop at the company where my dad worked, I rebuilt the bike over about an eighteen (18) month period. I tested the motorbike at every stage in our relatively large back garden. We had a very large willow tree in the back garden, which made a great backdrop for me to ride around. I rode in and around that tree, with its weeping willows falling to the ground. It made my connection to the motorbike experience, all that much more majestic.

Weeping Willow Tree

As the project developed I test drove it on the network of new roads around our local area.
I then ventured down with my friend from primary school who had a mini-bike. We would go into the bush and ride on the fire trails for hours on end – until we were almost out of fuel (actually a couple of times were got caught out, and one of us would run out of fuel on the way home). I recall the sense of exploration, being outdoors in the bush, the fresh air, and in the quiet, listening to the whip birds, the galahs, the lorikeets, and the kookaburras. We would park the bikes down in the valley next to the creek, and swim in the water hole….

Sydney North Shore falls.jpg

(Northern Sydney bushland 2016)
It was such an other world – all within about ten (10) kilometers of my home, where I felt such stress and control. Here – in every moment, I got to control what I did, how I did it, and who I did it with. I was out of earshot of my mother – away from her rules, and the feelings of something that made me uncomfortable…
I would come home after a long day riding, with a smile within, and no mater how much yelling was happening, it sort of no longer mattered to me as much. My dog Trixie was always happy to see me home, and she would bounce around with her slipper in her mouth, wagging her tail and telling me how much she was glad to see me and have me around.
I felt like I was either tweaking the bike, planning changes to it, or out riding. I enjoyed going to my job to earn the money to fund my next part of my plan: new tyres, new handlebars, and levers, modify the exhaust system, the carburettor, make a new seat, and design a new paint job. It was a project that occupied my time – something I could do for my self.  And whilst working in the garage at night,  my old gramophone would be on, and Trixie and I would listen to as much music as we could.

GA-3TR 90.1973.The Works

(Kawasaki GA-3TR 90 2016c)
By this stage I was immersed in off-ride bike magazines. I took the posters from these magazines of the European Champions of the day and stuck them on my walls, next to the posters of my Go-Set magazine musicians.  I was now interested in the next level of off-road riding, motocross. I would go and hang out at the local bike shop and try out all of these motorbikes – sitting on them, and imagining I was riding on the side of hills in Europe just like the many photos in the off-ride bike magazines in Belgium, Britain, France, Germany, Italy and Sweden.

Motorcyclist Magazine.1978

(Motocross Action magazine 2016)
I scoured these magazines for all of the motocross bike comparison tests, riding tips, and advertisements of new bikes. By now I was starting to outgrow my rebuilt Kawasaki. It has been great, but i realised that now amount of work and money spent on it would not achieve the technological advancements the new bikes were coming out with. Japan had now entered the competitive motocross bike market with manufacturers such as Suzuki, Yamaha, Kawasaki and Honda all producing bikes not only factory bikes for the World Motocross Championships, but also replicas for the local market. After twelves months I had saved up for one of the bikes – a Japanese Honda CR125 M1 – and bought one around my fifteenth (15) birthday. Ahhhhh…..this was a different beast. These bikes had lots of torque to accelerate off the mark really quickly; they could turn on a five (5) cent piece, and as they ran on methane jet fuel, their exhaust pipes were straight through without any muffler. Yes they were loud, proud and certainly not suitable for our local fire trails.

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(Honda CR125 M1 2016)
The local motor bike shops referred me to certain larger trails and riding parks where I could go to ride my new beast. I however would need a car and trailer to get there. As I still about two years too young to have a car driver’s licence, I quietly badgered my dad to get a tow-bar for his company car, and I bought a motorbike trailer. Soon, we were heading across to the other side of Sydney in pursuit of these larger more open trails and off-road parks. However, some of the trails were still illegal, and police were known to come and fine the many number of off-ride bike enthusiasts for riding their unregistered motorcycles on this government land. Because of this inconvenience, other options of places to ride were motocross parks, but to do this you needed to produce a racing licence to prove your were capable and responsible for your own safety. Yes, I felt I was in a corner with only one way out: to get my licence and start frequenting purpose built motocross tracks to practice. In order to get a on-road racing motorcycle license, you had to be affiliated with a motorcycle club. I was still a few months too young to get an open license, and so I decided to wait for my sixteenth (16) birthday. It so happened that the local motorcycle club – Willoughby District Motorcycle Club – held monthly meetings, and by coincidence the next meeting was to fall on the actual evening of my birthday.  When I was asked how I wanted to spend my birthday evening, the answer was obvious to me.  I wanted my dad to take me to the club meeting to join the club, and become eligible to get my motocross motorcycle racing license. Three (3) – four (4) weeks later I was racing at my first dirt track racing event – a club day.
Memory - Age 16_CR125 M1_Dargle MX.P4.mid works.jpg
(DLP 2016b)
It was a TT event – a flat oval track with about fifteen (15) to twenty (20) bikes competing for the best position around the very tight track.  The bike I was riding was capable of about 60+ mile per hour – just under 100 kilometres an hour – down the straights. In order to had to maintain momentum and speed around the corners, the rider would lean him self and the bike into the turn, but turn the front wheel in the opposite direction (facing away from the corner). This would force the back wheel to slide out to balance the bike and maintain forward momentum of the bike around the corner. This was a new experience – one which initially both terrified me, but also filled my body with so much adrenalin and joy. I can still feel the bike vibrating through my body – the seat, and up though my arms as I man handled the beast around the graded and oiled dirt track road. I can still hear the noise of both the two stroke and four (4) strokes motorcycles; I can still smell the methane jet fuel these bikes expelled whilst racing; I can still feel the adrenalin of gripping the handle bars and racing down the slick oiled dirt track straight, getting to the first corner, and learning within the afternoon to flick the back wheel out and slide through the corner trying to keep as much of the accelerator throttle on as much as you dared. I still recall the almost simultaneous rush of the fear as I entered the corner, and then the exhilaration in my chest, my throat, my mouth and my cheeks as I manipulated the bike through the corner, doing as it was told.

timonium-flat-track-racing-jason-isennock.The Works

(Motocycling Online.com 2016)
Yes, I felt like Might Mouse. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. I was well and truly addicted to this sport….
images
 (Terry-Toons Comics 1945-1951)
Of course, on that first day, I doubt got anywhere close to that top speed, but for me I found my aliveness. I can still remember the more experienced racers passing around my outside on both the straight away and the corners, as though I was standing stlll. Hey I may have even been lapped that day.  But I would never look back again from that day. I now knew what it was like to be alive, and to feel the adrenalin, tight muscles from wrestling the bike around in quite unnatural circumstances, that sense of exhilaration, with a smile that I recall I could not wipe off my face for days – or was it weeks?
I went through and circled all the up coming state motocross events that I was eligible to enter, and began working on my bike. In meeting more people, in talking more to them about bikes, in experiencing this event, and in reading more magazines, I realised I needed to customise my bike – to set it up ready for competition – to set it up for my body weight and height and riding style – to compete against the other guys and gals on their bikes. Back to the shops I would go many times for ideas and advice, and then back into our garage workshop to tinker at night… with my old gramophone on. Trixie and I would listen to as much music as we could while I customised my bike to become a better ride.
I practiced and practiced, and entered into as many club days as I could.

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(DLP 2016c)
Other events were soon to follow, including competing in my first NSW state championship event against some of the current reigning Australian and NSW state champions.

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(DLP 2016d)
Yes, I was well and truly addicted to this sport – my new direction. Yes, I was looking for something, and here it was….
Looking for something (other than where I was)”©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.
The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 15.

 

References
DLP 2016a image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 28th August, 2016
DLP 2016b images courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 28th August, 2016
DLP 2016c images courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 28th August, 2016
DLP 2016d images courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 28th August, 2016
Hermit Crab image courtesy of: Hermit Crab  Accessed 26th August, 2016
Honda CR125 M1 2016 images courtesy of: Honda Motorcycles Accessed 27th August, 2016
Kawasaki GA-3TR 90 2016a processed image courtesy of: Rod Carlile   Accessed 26th August, 2016
Kawasaki GA-3TR 90 2016b actual image courtesy of: Rod Carlile   Accessed 27th August, 2016
Kawasaki GA-3TR 90 2016b mage courtesy of: Rod Carlile   Accessed 26th August, 2016
Kawasaki GA-3TR 90 2016c mage courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 26th August, 2016
Looking for something (other than where I was) ……. audio link courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 2nd October, 2016
Motocross Bike magazine 2016 image courtesy of: Jim Jeffries Accessed 27th August, 2016
Motorcycling Online.com 2016 image courtesy of: Motorcycling Online.com  Accessed 27th August, 2016
Northern Sydney bushland 2016 image courtesy of: Visit Sydney Accessed 27th August, 2016
Page, David L. 2016. “Looking for something (other than where I was)” ©David L Page 2016
Plan image courtesy of: Plan  Accessed 14th October 2010
Shining Sun image courtesy of: Living from the Well Accessed 26th August, 2016
Terry-Toons Comics. 1945-1951. Mighty Mouse in Mighty Mouse #38-85  Accessed 8th March, 2014.
Trixie 2016 image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 27th August, 2016
– ©David L Page 17/09/1991
– updated ©David L Page 28/08/2016
– updated ©David L Page 02/10/2016
– updated ©David L Page 11/01/2017
Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.

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Memory – Age 15

Northern Lights_Lebine A
This is another in-situated recollection of what I consider to have been a significant event in my life, when I was Age 15.

Life moves on…

One of my primary school friends – a naturally gifted kid – a district athlete across a number of sports – individual and team. One of those people who also did great in school. He had charm by the bucket load, and was loved by both his school peers – guys and girls alike.
My memories include us riding our bikes to school; running around the playground, creating havoc; playing school sport together and competing against each other; training and playing rugby together in our Saturday team; riding our motorbikes on the unmade strips along the side of the new development roads, and going for rides down into the local bush; swimming in creeks.
When we got to high school, I went to the local state high school, and he went to a private high school. We still caught up, but less so from Year 9. Though he lived close by, he used to run to our evening rugby training in favour of asking my parents for a ride. One night his life was cut short on a darkened street on the way to rugby training. He just never showed up at training that night. The story was relayed to me a few days later. I knew the street. It was busy, but there were always lots of people around walking the pavements.
The following is a fictionalised narrative as I wasn’t there. It is however based on so many other episodes we shared together. RIP.

GA-3TR 90.1973.The Works

(Kawasaki 2016)

Someone lost at sea….

Someone lost at sea ….©David L Page 2017

Verse 1:  I walk the road,
its easy to avoid the cars…
beats walking the pavement….
with so much traffic around
Verse 2:  I can hear the shuffle of the blind man running,..
with his sticking scraping the ground……
the dog-barking skater being pulled along…
the nanny running with her filled up pram…
some kids on scooters,
clicking to a groove every time they ride over a (concrete pavement) line….
Verse 1:  I walk the road,
its easy to avoid the cars…
beats walking the pavement….
with so much traffic around
Chorus:  my iPod plays a serenade …
a young girl lost at sea…..
haunting wind harmonizes (in) the back ground…..
a sad tale, told so so well….

Underwater Image.P2

(Peterson 2015)
Refrain: A seagull passes overhead
casting a shadow over the road….
I glance up half-expecting a plane coming into land…
a car horn blasts
unsure of what I have seen…
wheels lock, shrieking tyres,
my nose fills with the smell of burning rubber
waiting for the crash…
I feel a rush of pain…
Everything goes………..
Refrain: Another seagull must be passing overhead
another shadow casts over me….
seems like lights out time in our household,
when I was boy…
Chorus: ohhhhhhhh….
I can hear a serenade in the distance …
but I don’t think it is my mum…
someone lost at sea…..
haunting wind harmonizes (in) the back ground…..
I can’t tell if it this is a sad tale,
a cold wind rushes past…
Chorus: ohhhhhhhh….
ohooooooohhhhhhhh………..
I can hear a serenade in the distance …
someone lost at sea…..
haunting wind harmonizes (in) the back ground…..
I can’t tell if it is a sad tale,
that’s not told so so well….

 

Verse 3: I can no longer hear the shuffle of the blind man running…
with his sticking scraping the ground……
I can’t hear any dogs panting,
as they run their owners along….
I can’t hear the many running,
nor the kids on scooters
clicking to a groove,
everytime they run over a (concrete pavement) line…
Chorus: ohhhhhhhh….
ohooooooohhhhhhhh………..
I can hear a serenade in the distance …
someone lost at sea…..
haunting wind harmonizes (in) the back ground…..
I can’t tell if it is a sad tale,
that’s not told so so well….
Music_staff_+_notes_2560x1600.v1c
(AE 2015)
Refrain: Another seagull must be flying overhead,
cause there is another shadow,
cast over me….
seems like lights out time in our household,
when I was boy…
Outro:
Chorus: ohhhhhhhh….
I can hear a serenade in the distance …
someone lost at sea…..
haunting wind harmonizes (in) the back ground…..
I can’t tell if it this is a sad tale,
more cold wind rushes past…
Verse 3 (part); I can no longer hear the shuffle of the blind man running,..
with his sticking scraping the ground……
oohhh ooohh ooohhh oohhhho
oooh………..
oohhh ooohh ooohhh oohhhho
oooh………..
oohhh ooohh ooohhh oohhhho
oooh………..
oohhh ooohh ooohhh oohhhho
oooh………..
Page, David L. 2017. “Someone lost at sea ….”© David L Page 2017.  This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event. 
Celestial Galaxy.P1
This represents one last blog in this Project 1 series. It is not directly about me, but it was a significant event in my life. The next blog in the Project 2 series is Memory – Age 16 Part 1.
References
AE 2015 Music note montage in the universe image courtesy of: Angelic Exorcism (AE) Studio Projects  Accessed 11th March 2015
Celestial Galaxy image courtesy of: Celestial Galaxy Accessed 2nd January, 2017
Kawasaki GA-3TR 90 2016c mage courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 26th August, 2016
Northern Lights image courtesy of: Northern lights  Accessed 22nd August, 2012
Page, David L. 2017. “Someone lost at sea ….”© David L Page 2017.  
Page, David L 2016  David L Page’s Memory series  Accessed 3rd April, 2017
Peterson, Allan. 2012. Underwater Cathedral Light image courtesy of: Allan Peterson Accessed 2nd January, 2017
Someone lost at sea …. audio link courtesy of: David L Page  Accessed 20th August, 2017
– ©David L Page 13/07/1991
– updated ©David L Page 03/04/2017
– updated ©David L Page 20/08/2017
Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.

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Memory – Age 20 Part 1

487887030

Desperate Times

As my life twisted and turned through so many significant events, there was an ongoing feeling of instability.  I had been trying to look forward but could not see anything, It was as if a midst lie in front of where I was standing – a thick blanket of fog as I had experienced in the english Channel on one of our many crossings from the UK to Europe. It was as though I could not see my hand with my arm straight out in front of me.
I could however feel the pain of what I was feeling right now, and knew within my self that as I wondered walking out further into the abyss, that pain would be accompanying me.
I looked left – I looked right, but I could see no options to get me out of where I was at – into a different situation that would positively impact as to how I was feeling.
Every time I looked behind, a black cloud enveloped me.
I felt by this stage of my life, I was now living on a knife-edge. Quite often literally, with a knife in my hand, wanting to lash out, but mostly considering self-harm.
The next passage was written some two decades ago, as I attempted to creatively channel the level of pain and frustration that I had recalled feeling at this point in my life: the feelings were relentless, and ever escalating. On this trajectory, I just knew I was about to turn a corner – to experience an event for which I believed I would never fully recover from.

DLP Prose_In Desperate Times.1991

Page, David L (2016a) “(In) Desperate Times” ©David L Page 1991

Ever Rising Despair

Despair©David L Page 2016
There was an explosion in my midst…
Couldn’t see the source –
But before I knew …
A white light flashed around me,
immediately followed by an intense heat storm
which surrounded where I stood,
 it ripped through my pores, and
peeled the skin back away from my bones…

 

All I could hear was ringing in my ears,
White noise
I couldn’t make out anything specific …
Just a cacophony of sound..
a cacophony of noise….

 

My life flashed before me
like a 60x fast forwarding drive
images of everything I have already just described…
Age 2, Age 4, Age 5, Age 7 and 9,
Ages 10, 11, 12, 13 and 14
Ages 16, and 17 to 19

 

The pain rose up my spine and
exploded out of my head….
It was like a stick of TNT
Exploded with me,
turning my inside out…….

 

I could feel the drip, drip, drip
down my arms,
As the liquid fear ran down my limbs
A black blanket fell all around me,
and my body went into
shut down mode

 

All I could hear was a
click, click, click, click – increasing to
a tick, tick , tick, tick – increasing to
a tack, tack, tack, tack – increasing to
a phatt, phatt, phatt, phatt – increasing to
a beat, beat, beat, beat – increasing to
a boom, boom, boom, boom – increasing to
a thump, thump, thump, thump…
I realized it was my heartbeat coming through..
As if amplified
inside my ear
– it was super intense

 

I could feel the drip, drip, drip
down my arms,
As the liquid fear ran down my limbs
A black blanket fell all around me,
and my body went into
shut down mode

 

All I could hear was a
click, click, click, click – increasing to
a tick, tick , tick, tick – increasing to
a tack, tack, tack, tack – increasing to
a phatt, phatt, phatt, phatt – increasing to
a beat, beat, beat, beat – increasing to
a boom, boom, boom, boom – increasing to
a thump, thump, thump, thump…
I realized it was my heartbeat coming through..
As if amplified
inside my ear
– it was super intense
Page, David L (2016b) “Ever Rising Despair” ©David L Page 2016. 
“Ever Rising Despair” ©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.

Northern Lights_Lebine A

The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 20 Part 2.

 

References
Darkened House image courtesy of: Darkened house  Accessed 18th June, 2016
Northern Lights image courtesy of: Northern lights  Accessed 22nd August, 2012
Page, David L (2016a) “(In) Desperate Times” ©David L Page 1991
Page, David L (2016b) “Ever Rising Despair” ©David L Page 2016
Ever Rising Despair ……. audio link courtesy of: David L Page  Accessed 28th September, 2016
– ©David L Page 19/06/1991
– updated ©David L Page 20/12/2016
– updated ©David L Page 26/01/2017
Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.

Memory – Age 17 – 19 Part 2

Rainy Image
This is another recollection of what I consider to have been a significant period in my life, when I was Age 17 – 19 Part 2.

Bouncing off walls….

Work

I was developing well in my role as an apprentice , but I found that I was actually very good within the management side of running the service department office. Due to the management style (see Leadership Part 1 blog re organisational management styles), there was a lot of staff turnover at the company I was doing my apprenticeship at. I was now just over half way through my apprenticeship, and I was now the second longest serving member of the service department. I found I was spending as much time in the office helping run the service department, rather than being out of the tools learning about the trade. This was not a conscious choice – more of something that seemed to naturally happen. Telephones were riding, and as we were under staffed, I would just pick up the phone to take a message. Then one thing led to another. I would take an order. I would be asked to follow up, and then the people assisting me at the other end of the phone at one of three (3) manufacturers of Renault Australia, Peugeot Australia or Citroen Australia would call back and ask for me. Soon I was getting to know them, and given that I was also well trained by all three manufacturers in specialist training, I noticed I had developed reputation for both knowledge and reliability.
Assisting on the phones, then gravitated to dealing with customers. Customers would call to make service appointments for their cars, and then when they arrived on the day, they would want to speak to me about what we have previously spoken about. Then once the customers returned to collect their cars, they again would look for me.
It seemed they found it easy to talk to me, and perhaps someone who listened to their issues, and then followed through to make sure their issues were addressed; or if those issues couldn’t be addressed, then at least the issue and possible solutions were outlined to them with an approximate cost and time frame of what it would take to get the issue resolved to their satisfaction.
I admit to liking this aspect of the job. It was a role that as time progressed with the ongoing staff turnover, I was soon the longest serving member of staff in the service department, with the largest amount of local and historical operational knowledge. The department was over time developed with more competent staff employed. However, I seemed to have my dual role cemented into the culture, allowing me to develop both my organisational system skills, as well as keep progressing my technical skills.

Motorcycle racing logisitics

Whilst my motocross career was on hold, I became more active within my motorcycle club. By chance, this motorcycle club hosted the largest production motorcycle race of the day – the Castrol 6 Hour Motorcycle race – at Amaroo Park Raceway. As the club was a not for profit association, the Castrol 6 Hour Motorcycle race was run on the back of volunteers – volunteers made up of the motorcycle club members, family and friends.

The_Castrol_Six_Hour_Production_race.png

(Scaysbrook 2016)
As this race was a production race, all of the motorcycle participating needed to be scrutinised to ensure that they complied with the specifications of the bikes that were available of the showroom floor to the general public. This meant that all of the motorcycles needed to pulled down priorate the race, inspected, and then reassembled by the owners, under the watchful eye of the scrutineers, and then sealed, to ensure that no changes had been made to the specifications at any point.
For the first few years I was involved, I was a scrutineer observer: watching from a close distance to ensure the racing teams wre not tampering with the scrutiny seals. However, given I was an apprentice mechanic, I was gradually brought into the main scrutinising team. Before long I was applying my developed sense of systems and processes to the team, to eradicate the gaps I observed in the scrutineering process where unscrupulous racing teams could take an opportunity to make prohibited changes. I recognised that the systems and processes I were advising and implementing was a skill I had innately, that was being developed within my dual role at the service department.
(Castrol 6 Hour Motorcycle Race 1979)
I recall thinking to myself.. “mmm… I can see things that others don’t seem to be able to see……”

analysis-with-magnifying-glass

Music

Continuous listening

As introduced in my last blog (Memory – Age 17 – 19 Part 2),  I would pack up my bike trailer and followed the state motocross championship circuit of a weekend. I would leave first thing Saturday morning, and drive out into the country – often a six (6) to seven (7) hour drive – often times more, sometimes less – to get to any of the country-based tracks ready for the Saturday practice sessions. I would have the front passenger seat set up with a tape player, plugged into the cigarette lighter. My music collection was expanding very quickly, across a wide range of musical styles. I would have my many cassette tape cases filled with mixed tapes, in a chosen order – all lined up. I just played one tape after another continuously until I arrived at my destination. On the way home, I would just continue to progress through the playing order. I realise now this music – these albums became the soundtrack of my life at that time. I listened to the music, to the lyrics, to the rhythms, to the melodies, to the instrumentation,to the arrangement, to the production, The artists, music and productions educated me in the many varied music styles and production aesthetics that each artist or album represented. They accompanied me on my trips – they kept me company. These artists and albums created a listening backdrop to the many visual scenes I was taking in, as I drove through the NSW, ACT and Victorian countryside and towns. I calculated that I did about fifty (50) such trips over a two year period, averaging about six (6) hours driving each way. I must have listened in the car alone to about nine hundred (900) albums worth of music. Some of the artists and albums that accompanied me on these trips (in addition to the artists and albums that I have already mentioned in previous blogs) were: Muddy Waters; BB King; Sonny Boy Williamson, T-Bone Walker; Howling’ Wolfe; Bob Dylan’s Highway 61 RevisitedBlonde on Blonde and Bob Dylan at Budokan;  Woodstock; George Harrison’s All Things Must Past and The Concert For Bangladesh; The Band’s The Last Waltz; Neil Young’s Neil Young, HarvestTonights The Night and Comes A Time; Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks, Them AgainHis Band and the Street Choir, Moondance, Tupelo Honey, St Dominic’s Preview, Veedon Fleece and Wavelength ; Eric Clapton’s John Mayall’s Blues Breakers,  EC Was HereSlowhand,  461 Ocean Boulevard; Rory Gallagher’s Live In Europe and Taste; Led Zeppelin’s IV;  Tim Buckley’s Goodbye and Hello and Greetings from LA; Genesis’ The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway; Bruce Springsteen’s Greetings From Asbury Park, The Wild The Innocent and the E Street Shuffle, and Born To Run; Alan Parson’s I Robot and Pyramid; Thin Lizzy’s Live and Dangerous; Richard Clapton’s Goodbye Tiger; Cold Chisel’s Cold Chisel, to name but a few.
I realise now that whilst I had put my guitar down and focussed on motorcycles for about six (6) years, I certainly hadn’t stopped my listening – my critical listening: my studying of music and sound across multiple levels.

33rpm Album collection

Once I had ceased playing with bikes at night in the garage, I returned to playing albums on my record player. My best friend and I shared a love of music and records. We had different tastes and influences which allowed us both to be introduced to a broader eclectic range of artists and musical styles than would have been possible by ourselves. With my new found additional disposable income from a third years’ apprenticeship wage (relative to a first and second year wage), and not racing bikes (saving on parts, fuel and travel), I submersed my self into the one thing I could do as part of my every day home-work life.
Before long we had three (3) – four (4) l hundred albums each.

Live music

The natural gravitation from our passion in music was to then seek out music being performed in our local area. Again, our different tastes and influences allowed us to be introduced to a broader eclectic range of artists and musical styles than would have been possible had we just been going out by ourselves. The range of live performances ranges from art-college bands, to emerging local artists, to successful performers of the day – local and international.
One of our local bands that we made sure we would go as many times during the week when they were performing were Cold Chisel. A great live band that guaranteed you would get a physical work out by the end of the evening.

Cold Chisel_Manly Vale Hotel ticket_1980 .jpg

(Cold Chisel 1980)
Of course, with the live music scene came late nights, alcohol and lack of healthy balance of food. Over time, this would take its toll.

Family and Friends

With more time on my hands, I did spend some time visiting my parent’s families in both Sydney and Melbourne. The family member who I felt particularly close to – the person whom I would make an effort to visit – was my father’s father, my grandfather – Pa. He didn’t live far away. However, he was light years away from my current lifestyle.
Pa.1978.600.The Works.P3
(Pa 2016)
He was someone who had a way about him – an aura around him of calmness and faith.  My grandfather was a devout Baptist, but more so – a really fine human being. Compassionate, kind, with well thought through values and intentions in his dealings with everyone in the community. His goodness was infectious. He was very measured. When he spoke, he wove philosophical stories for his grandchildren into the conversations. He lost no opportunity to teach.
As I grew up, I recall I gravitated to him for some semblance of nourishment and order from our tumultuous household. We would see my father’s family most Sundays for an extended family lunch. Usually a hot roast lamb which was considered at the time to be a regal lunch to share amongst family or friends. I would sit next to him, and look up in awe whenever he was looking away. He would catch my stares, and look down at me, and just smile reassuringly. I swear he had a light hue around his head and shoulders, complementing his smile that reassured everyone around him, that they were well-loved.
I have never spoken of this, but in engaging in this deep reflective practice task, I can now see how I was attracted to – in need of – his balance and energy. In my life, this was the nourishment that I needed.
In one of my live gig binge periods – perhaps a period when I was in need of his nourishment more than other periods in my life – I overlooked a dinner promise that I had to visit my grandfather. The following week he passed away. My parents were overseas. I had to represent my dad at his father’s funeral. I recall it was one of the hardest periods I had at that time to live through. It seemed that things were constantly being taken away from me. This, I could not resolve.
Things I could see, just got blurrier…..

487887030

Doors seemed to be closing……

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

The world seemed darker, colder, less friendly…..

Rainy Image.P2.jpg

I couldn’t find my way. Everything seemed to be disappearing. Everything seemed to be constantly being taken away from me….. The people and things that I loved… the memories… I just could not resolve this….

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(DLP 2016)
I was trying hard to make my own way.  I then learned of another friend who had lost his life…
Then another….. Then someone I had met – someone who promised me so much, didn’t come through for me… In fact, I found her talking , and acting behind my back…. turned out she was an utter bitch!!
I suppose it all just got too much….. I felt beyond helpless as a child again. I felt betrayed… I felt lost… Everything was happening outside of my control. Everything was disappearing. Everything was being taken away….. The people and things that I loved… the memories… I just could not resolve this…. the rainy days were turning back into torrential stormy days ……. I felt as a child again. I felt betrayed… I felt lost… I had no control, no control. Everything was disappearing. Everything was being taken away….. The people and things that I loved… the memories… I just could not resolve this…. the rainy days were turning back into torrential stormy days …….
Rainy Image.Really Darkened.P3.jpg
Page, David L (2016a) “Bouncing off walls….” ©David L Page 2016. 
“Bouncing off walls….” ©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.

Night of the Round Table – perspective of an artist’s subject

As a person trying to understand my self, in order to better function in life, I have indulged and engaged in much reflection throughout my life. Irrespective of my age, I have spent time reflecting on what I have experienced, what I had achieved, what I hadn’t achieved, and the possible reasons for this. I recall at specific times in my life, reflecting on why perhaps I was who I was, and even recall from a very young age, what it was god had intended for me to achieve in my life time. I pondered this in a creative writing session, whilst gazing down at autumn leaves in various stages of death. In this process – for the first time I believe – I started to both understand and accept, what it is to have life. What is it is to live, and what it is to have that life taken away.

DLP Prose_Night of the Round Table.1991

Page, David L (2016b) “Night of the Round Table (perspective of an artist’s subject)” ©David L Page 1991
The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 20 Part 1.
References
Alan Parson’s I Robot and Pyramid albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Bob Dylan’s Highway 61 RevisitedBlonde on Blonde and Bob Dylan at Budokan albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Bouncing off walls ……. audio link courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 5th December, 2016
Bruce Springsteen’s Greetings From Asbury Park, The Wild The Innocent and the E Street Shuffle, and Born To Run albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Castrol 6 Hour Motorcycle Race 1979 video link courtesy of ABC TV  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Cold Chisel’s Cold Chisel album courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Cold Chisel 1980 image courtesy of:  Cold Chisel Live at the Manly Vale Hotel Accessed 4th December, 2016
Corridor and Closed Door image courtesy of: Corridors  Accessed 18th June, 2016
Darkened House image courtesy of: Darkened house  Accessed 18th June, 2016
DLP 2016 image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 19th November, 2016
Eric Clapton’s John Mayall’s Blues Breakers,  EC Was HereSlowhand,  461 Ocean Boulevard  albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Genesis’ The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway album courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
George Harrison’s All Things Must Past and The Concert For Bangladesh albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Led Zeppelin’s IV album courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Magnifying Glass image courtesy of:  Analysis   Accessed 4th December, 2016
Neil Young’s Neil Young, HarvestTonights The Night and Comes A Time albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Page, David L (2016a) “Bouncing off walls….” ©David L Page 2016
Page, David L (2016b) “Night of the Round Table (perspective of an artist’s subject)” ©David L Page 1991
Rainy Images courtesy of: Rainy day image Accessed 5th November, 2016
Richard Clapton’s Goodbye Tiger album courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Rory Gallagher’s Live In Europe and Taste albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Scaysbrook 2016 image courtesy of : Castrol Six Hour Production Race Accessed 5th December, 2016
Tim Buckley’s Goodbye and Hello and Greetings from LA albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
The Band’s The Last Waltz album courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Thin Lizzy’s Live and Dangerous album courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks, Them AgainHis Band and the Street Choir, Moondance, Tupelo Honey, St Dominic’s Preview, Veedon Fleece and Wavelength albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Woodstock album courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
– ©David L Page 10/05/1991
– updated ©David L Page 28/11/2016
– updated ©David L Page 05/12/2016
Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.

Memory – Age 17 – 19 Part 1

The sun shining

This is another recollection of what I consider to have been a significant period in my life, when I was Age 17 – 19 Part 1.

Independence

Car Licence

I had been practicing driving a car for a number of months – most notably since I turned 16 years nine (9) months when I became eligible in NSW to get my learner plates. In addition to arranging learner driver lessons with a local agency, I had also been moving cars around the two (2) storey car lot at my work for much of the year. In the dealership, we had cars to be repaired, new cars and second-hand cars for sale – all needing to be moved around the lot on a regular basis. I was certainly up for the task when management asked for my assistance.
Additionally, I would practice in my local area after work, and on weekends. I figured I needed to get as much street time up as possible before my driver’s licence test, as I certainly was not prepared to factor in being unprepared for the test, and maybe having to resit it at a later date. So, I embarked on my own learner driver program around the semi-industrial areas outside of business hours. Certainly not very legal, but I was quite confident to be able to do this without causing any accidents.
On my 17th birthday, I arrived at the NSW Transport Department to sit my car driver’s licence. With only a minor comment to mention, I was confirmed eligible to be set free on the roads. I was allowed to drive home, and drove my self home for the first time legally down the highway.  As a person trying to understand my new life and my place in the world, I finally had what I associated as FREEDOM. I now had wheels and could go anywhere I wanted or needed to go – I was off… I loaded my car with music tapes and a tape player. I now had my freedom bus. I could drive to the shops, and load up the boot with stuff. No more train trips, and having to lug shopping bags home by hand. I could now drive to work, avoiding the need for public transport and saving much commuting time. I took to the streets at nights to visit my friends from the old neighbourhood. I found, at last I could once again breathe. I felt independent, and perhaps for the first time somewhat in control of what I did, and when I did it.

Motocross events

On Friday nights I packed up my bike trailer and followed the state motocross championship circuit. I would leave first thing Saturday morning, and drive out into the country – often a six (6) to seven (7) hour drive – often times more – to get to any of the country-based tracks ready for the Saturday practice sessions.
Datsun with MX Bike.1978
(DLP 2016a)
I would have the front passenger seat set up with a tape player, plugged into the cigarette lighter.  I just played one tape after another continuously until I arrived at my destination. These artists and albums created a listening backdrop to the many visual scenes I was taking in as I drove through the NSW, ACT and Victorian countryside and towns.
I would generally arrive mid-Saturday afternoon, in time to unload, and have several hours familiarising myself with the track during formal practice sessions. Being at a new track, adjustments to the bike were needed, along with running repairs if or when things broke or I had fallen off by pushing too hard. Even though I worked on the bike at home during the evenings between the various race days – cleaning and maintaining them –  there were always maintenance needed on the day…
At night, I would find a motel, or if not one around, I would grab some take-away food and sleep in the car. There was a number of  privateer competitors that were following the same circuit and we would hang out in the evening, before we bunked down for the night. With all of the riding, my riding was improving. I was starting to feel comfortable with my own individual riding style – quite an aggressive riding style – and getting some better results on the track. Eventually my riding style resulted in the snapping of the rear wheel tubular metal swing arm in half in a pre-race practice session. In examining the damage, I had several options: to replace the swingarm with a sturdier aftermarket product, or to have it repaired. I noted that the newer 1978 model bikes came fitted with far sturdier aluminium box section swingarms, with improved canter-lever suspension. This made these new models far more efficient on the arduous motocross track conditions I was racing on. After some research and doing cost analysis of replacing the existing parts, I decided it was indeed time to upgrade my bike to get the latest model motocross bike – a Yamaha YZ125E.

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(Yamaha YZ125E 2016)
It took me some time to settle into this bike, and adapt my riding style to the different chassis design. However, continuing to follow the state motocross championship circuit provided me a lot of time to practice and adapt. I continued to make modifications to the bike at my work, and before long I was rewarded with some good results in the NSW State Championship at Amaroo Park competing against current NSW and Australian champions.

Amaroo MX Race Event.NSW Championshiop.1978.png

(DLP 2016b)
This result only provided greater incentive for me to train harder, and invest more time into developing my bike and my riding skills.

New Car

Around this time, there was an opportunity to buy a new car through my work. As a Renault specialist, I would get a sizeable discount. This was too good an opportunity for me to pass up on, especially given the kilometres i was accumulating with all of my state travel. The car was a new incarnation of the hugely popular Renault 12. Rebadged  with a bigger engine and a range of cosmetic changes, the Renault 1.4 Virage manual had a sunroof, air conditioning and stereo.  A simple, but extremely well built car that performed well above its price tag.  I had to borrow the money to pay it off, but given the Datsun was starting to show signs of mechanical issues, I felt it was a timely opportunity.
Renault Virage 1.4.1979.600.png
 (DLP 2016c)

Motocross

I continued to travel far and wide with my Renault to the Championship rounds around the state and beyond. Time would however reveal a weakness within the current model of the Yamaha YZ125E: the transmission and crankshaft. The Yamaha YZ125E when pushed in a competitive situation would overheat, and seize. I was in the ACT at one of the Championship rounds when I first experienced this. My bike engine seized during one of the racing rounds. As it was an unfamiliar mechanical issue, I and everyone around me were quite unaware of what had happened. It wasn’t until I returned back to Sydney with my broken bike, and took it back to the dealer that I learnt what had happened. The bill to repair and replace the issue was going to cost about $1,000 – about 40% of what I paid for the bike. As these were production racing bikes, no warranty applied to them. This was devastating. Given I was on an apprenticeship wage, this was even more of a set back. Whilst I had some minor sponsorship, the cost of repairs resided predominantly with me to get the back back into competition mode. Additional to the cost, because it was a relative unknown issue to Yamahas at that time, the parts were not readily viable in Australia. They therefore had to be ordered from Japan, which was going to take some weeks at best as well. I recall it took about six (6) to rectify the problem, to get my bike back up and running.

 

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(DLP 2016d)
Whilst I was waiting for the parts to arrive, I had other championship round events scheduled which I was going to have to miss.  By this stage, the issue with the Yamaha engines was well known to the competitive racer community.  The Yamaha transmission and crankshaft problem was now endemic, and causing considerable issue amongst all Yamaha YZ riders. I recall those of who were riding the arch rival Suzuki and Honda motorcycles wryly smiling during these times, grateful they were without a similar major mechanical issue as their Yamaha colleagues were experiencing. The Yamaha factory did not acknowledge nor attempt to address these issues with their customers – the riders.
Fortunately, I had some really nice semi-professional colleagues – one of who was running three (3) bikes – who insisted that I take one of their spare engines for the upcoming new Stadium Motocross event as listed below. I admit to feeling tentative borrowing someone else’s engine. I could ill-afford to have the same issue happen to one of the engines I was borrowing. I therefore took that particular race easy, and did not do well.
Stadium Supercross.1979.P1
(DLP 2016e)
I had to wait impatiently for the parts to arrive, and the repair to be completed. I guess i was chaffing at the bit by the time the repair had been completed. I was keen to resume my focus as soon I had my motor reinstalled.
I do not recall which event it was at; but during the first event after some six (6) weeks since my first engine failure, I returned to competitive racing. However, during the second or third event back, the same issue re-occurred – the transmission seized again. I was devastated. What the?? Again?? Knowing the cost of having the motor repaired for a second time, where was I going to get the money this time? Where? Where?
I was deflated, and took a few days to consider what options were before me. This model Yamaha was giving so many people in racing circles grief, with the same complaint. I knew what is was going to cost, and the time it was going to take to not only try to raise more funds for the cost of repair; but also the time it was going to take to get it fixed. And what was to say that it wouldn’t just keep happening again and again? Based on the number of times I had heard it happening to other more professional teams, I made the conscious decision not to have the transmission repaired. The logical solution would be to upgrade to another manufacturer’s model. However, with my recent debt with both the bike repair and buying a new car, I decided it just wasn’t feasible at this time.  I felt that I had lost a lot of momentum with my racing over the past three months (3) and with Christmas holidays around the corner, it was time to stop and really look at my options.
I was unable to raise a further $1,000 to repair this mechanical fault, nor find the funds to upgrade to another motocross bike. It was the last time I raced competitive motocross. I went from having a very full life and focus, to not knowing what to do with my self and my spare time.
I can see the rain setting in again….

Rainy Image

Page, David L (2016b) “Independence….” ©David L Page 2016. 
“Independence….” ©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.
The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 17-19 Part 2.
References
Buckley, Tim. 1972. Greetings from LA. Straight Records. Vinyl LP.
Cohen, Leonard. 1967. Songs of Leonard Cohen. Columbia Records (broadcast Vinyl LP).
DLP 2016a image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 19th November, 2016
DLP 2016b image originally from local off-road motorcycle newspaper, but now courtesy of: David L Page photo archives. Accessed 2nd May, 2016
DLP 2016c image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 2nd May, 2016
DLP 2016d image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 2nd May, 2016
DLP 2016e image originally from local off-road motorcycle newspaper, but now courtesy of: David L Page photo archives. Accessed 2nd May, 2016
Dylan, Bob. 1965. Highway 61 Revisited. Columbia Records. Vinyl LP.
Floyd, Pink. 1973. Dark side of the moon. Harvest. Vinyl LP.
Gallagher, Rory. 1972. Live in Europe. Polydor Records. Vinyl LP.
Genesis. 1974. The lamb lies down on broadway. Charisma. Vinyl LP.
Independence ……. audio link courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 5th December, 2016
Morrison, Van. 1978. Wavelength. Warner Bros. Vinyl LP.
Morrison, Van. 1970. Moondance. Warner Bros. Vinyl LP.
Morrison, Van. 1968. Astral Weeks. Warner Bros. Vinyl LP.
Page, David L (2016a) “Independence….” ©David L Page 2016
Rainy Image courtesy of: Rainy day image Accessed 5th November, 2016
Shining Sun image courtesy of: Living from the Well Accessed 2nd May, 2016
Stones, The Rolling. 1974. Goats Head Soup. Rolling Stones. Vinyl LP.
Young, Neil. 1979. Live Rust. Reprise. Vinyl LP.
Zeppelin, Led. 1971. IV. Atlantic Records. Vinyl LP.
– ©David L Page 10/05/1991
– updated ©David L Page 20/11/2016
Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.

 

Memory – Age 16 Part 3

Rainy Image.jpg

This is another in-situated recollection of what I consider to have been a significant period in my life, when I was Age 16.

Such a new life….

Such a new life….©David L Page 2016
Living by my self,
Such a new life….
I get up every day,
and think
what will I eat …
breakfast, lunch, and dinner…
first time I’ve needed to,
consider this,
consider that…
such a new life……..
I race to the shops at lunch
to get the week’s supplies
my only chance
no extended trading in this era
everyone only works, 9- 5
Home at night,
bills to be paid
meagre apprenticeship money coming in,
how quickly I find it
all just disappears….

 

such a new life……..

 

Saturday morn,
washing and cleaning chores,
clothes off the line,
adding to a pile on the floor,
another week rolls on out,
another day
another week
another month rolls by..

 

such a new life……..
no family around,
they are now long long gone,
sixteen years old
living by my self
such a different life
to that I have previously known
such a new life……..

 

now part of close living,
so many balconies,
and yet,  no one ever seems to be home
no willow tree in the backyard
no happy, smiling face,
no wagging tail,
to greet me when I get home

 

such a new life……..
my family – they are now long long gone,
sixteen years old
living by my self
such a different life
to that I have previously known

 

A day working,
covered in grease and oil
tuning engines, and
road testing them with others,
as I am still too young to drive

 

I try to engage in small talk….
But really,
I can only focus on what I need,
developing my skills
confirming my decision
to embark on such a path
have I made the right choice?
I am not sure,
I am not convinced
at this stage
The boss takes a tyrannical stance,
Making us do things
in the name of the role,
have I made the right choice?
I am not sure,
I am not convinced
People approach me to assist,
I listen and solve
problems seem logical to fix
have I made the right choice?
I am not sure,
I am not convinced
such a new life……..

 

Everyday,
I put one foot before the next
I take each step,
unsure of what will happen next
I am not sure,
I am not convinced
I gather my thoughts,
after what seems to be
another,
very long day

 

I guess,
now I can say,
I was only ever just hanging
on in there
such a new life……..
such a new way…
I moved from one place,
to the next
looking out the window on the train
wondering what had I done today

 

I felt in many ways,
it was as if I was
holding my breathe,
too scared to breathe
too scared to live,
for what I might feel
such a new life……..
Everyday,
I just put one foot before the next
I took each step,
unsure of what will happen next
I am not sure,
I am not convinced
I gather my thoughts,
at the end of what seems to be
another,
very very long day

 

I did what I could…
Not sure of what that means

 

Everyday,
I just put one foot before the next
I took each step,
unsure of what will happen next
I am not sure,
I am not convinced
I gather my thoughts,
at the end of what seems to be
another,
very very long day

 

no family around,
they are now long long gone,
sixteen years old
living by my self
such a different life
to that I have previously known

 

such a new life……..
such a new life……..
such a new life……..
such a new life……..
Page, David L (2016b) “Such a new life….” ©David L Page 2016. 
Such a new life….” ©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.
Distressed Baby.Darkened.P2

Afraid

I was now – some would say – making my own way.  One foot before the next, and trying to remember to breathe. I would make another step, unsure of what would happen next. In many ways, I felt as helpless as a child again. So many things happened that were outside of my control. My life continued to unfold, from torrential stormy days through to rainy days. I was experiencing this new life – on this new path, moving very slowly forward, but unsure of what was going to happen at any moment. I was now experiencing a stage of life that I had thought I would never fully recover from. I was still uneasy, and in many ways, afraid…..

DLP Prose Afraid.1991

Page, David L (2016a) “Afraid” ©David L Page 1991
Northern Lights_Lebine A
The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 17 – 19 Part 1.
References
Distressed Baby image courtesy of:  David L Page  Accessed 17th January, 2017
Northern Lights image courtesy of: Northern lights  Accessed 22nd August, 2012
Page, David L (2016a) “Such a new life….” ©David L Page 2016
Page, David L (2016b) “Afraid” ©David L Page 1991
Rainy Image courtesy of: rainy day image Accessed 5th November, 2016
Such a new life ……. audio link courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 5th November, 2016
– ©David L Page 20/04/1991
– updated ©David L Page 05/11/2016
– updated ©David L Page 20/01/2017
Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.

Memory – Age 16 Part 2

Northern Lights_Lebine A

Independence Day

This is another in-situated recollection of what I consider to have been a significant event in my life, when I was Age 16.

Stranger in a strange place

Stranger in a strange place©David L Page 2016
Verse 1: I wake in the morning,
I’m in a familiar bed
But in a strange place,
What is this shed?
Is this my bed where I have laid my head
down every day for the past eight (8) years?
I don’t think so……

 

Verse 2: The walls look different
Much closer than before…
No tail patting the carpet
No stretch and yawn as she wakes herself up…
No kiss on the cheek,
As I have had every morn
for the five (5) years before

 

Pre-chorus 1: What’s that strange noise…
Water running from the ceiling
Like a waterfall from above
Filling up my place
huh.. huh… I can not breathe!
Am I going to drown?
Footsteps pace back and forth
But these are not as I have heard them before…..

 

Verse 3: Can’t hear any chirping in the trees,
There’s no back door…
No weeping willow
To wave and welcome me into a new day
What is this place?
where am I?
What have I become?….

 

Verse 4: I fall out of bed,
And step two (2) paces out the door
No garage before me,
bath room straight ahead,
living room to the left, no one in sight
no other life
I feel like a stranger in a strange place

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,
you’ve not been here before?
welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

 

Pre-chorus 1: What’s that strange noise…
Water running from the ceiling
Like a waterfall from above
Filling up my place
huh.. huh… I can not breathe!
Am I going to drown?
Footsteps pace back and forth
But these are not as I have heard them before…..

 

Chorus 1: No one in sight
No other life
I feel like a stranger in a…
in a strange place
a stranger in a…..
a stranger in a strange place

 

Refrain (my voice): I don’t recognise anything
where is everything I’ve known before?

 

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(Page 2016a)
Verse 5 (1/2): I hear traffic on the ridge
Cars beep,
tyres screech
I’ve not heard these sounds before

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,
you’ve not been here before?
welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

 

Pre-chorus 1: What’s that strange noise…
Water running from the ceiling
Like a waterfall from above
Filling up my place
huh.. huh… I can not breathe!
Am I going to drown?
Footsteps pace back and forth
But these are not as I have heard them before…..

 

Chorus 1: No one in sight
No other life
I feel like a stranger in a…
in a strange place
a stranger in a…..
a stranger in a strange place

 

Refrain (my voice): I don’t recognise anything
where is everything I’ve known before?
Bridge Part 1:

 

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(Page 2016b)
Bridge Part 2: I sneak a peak our the curtains,
And only see balconies after balconies,
After balconies, after balconies,
After balconies, after balconies,
After balconies, after balconies,
After balconies, after balconies,
After balconies, after balconies….

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,
you’ve not been here before?
welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

 

Verse 3 (1/2): No weeping willow
To wave and welcome me into a new day
What am I imagining
How did I get here?

 

Refrain (my voice): I don’t recognise anything
where is everything I’ve known before?

 

Verse 2: The walls look different
Much closer than before…
No tail patting the carpet
No stretch and yawn as she wakes herself up…
No kiss on the cheek,
As I have had every morn
for the five (5) years before
What have I become?….

 

Pre-chorus 2: I hear voices in the close distance
But none that I know
Water runs again from the ceiling
Like a raging river after a storm
Filling up my place
huh.. huh… I can not breathe!
Am I going to drown?
Footsteps pace back and forth
But these are not as I have heard them before…..

 

Chorus 1: No one in sight
No other life
I feel like a stranger in a…
in a strange place
a stranger in a…..
a stranger in a strange place

 

Refrain (my voice): I don’t recognise anything
where is everything I’ve known before?

 

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(Page 2016c)

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,
you’ve not been here before?
welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

 

Verse 7 (1/2): Alarm clock goes off,
But I do not wake
I am already embedded in
my nightmare dream….

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,
you’ve not been here before?
welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

 

Pre-chorus 1 (part)
Water running from the ceiling
Like a waterfall from above
…………
Footsteps pace back and forth
But these are not as I have heard them before…..

 

Verse 8: The kitchen is small
A very tight squeeze,
Compact for one,
Its very hard to breathe
The cupboards are bare
Nothing to eat
I wake from my sleep,
to hear my self scream

 

Verse 9: The dripping sweat,
causes my feet to slip away
I grab the oven door to stop myself fall
I lean on the bench,
And look up above
Why me?,
What have I done?,

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,
you’ve not been here before?
welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

 

Pre-chorus 1 (part)
Water running from the ceiling
Like a waterfall from above
 …………
Footsteps pace back and forth
But these are not as I have heard them before…..

 

Chorus 1 (part + extended):  I feel like a stranger in a…
in a strange place
a stranger in a…..
a stranger in a strange place
I feel like a stranger in a
in a strange place
I feel like a stranger in a
in a strange place
I feel like a stranger in a
in a strange place

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,
you’ve not been here before?
welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

 

Verse 3: Can’t hear any chirping in the trees,
There’s no back door…
No weeping willow
To wave and welcome me into a new day
What is this place?
where am I?
What have I become?….

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,
you’ve not been here before?
welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

 

Verse 10: I stumble into the shower,
And turn the cold tap full on….
I shout “Wake up Dave!!!
wake up Dave!!!
wake up Dave!!!
wake up Dave
How come no ones around?”
 ……………….
…………………
I hang my head and shake and sway…

 

Refrain 3: This here Dave is your Independence Day…\

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,
you’ve not been here before?
welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

 

Verse 11: Yes that’s right….
This here my friend is Independence Day…
Sixteen years old…
And your on your own

 

Chorus 1 (part): Yes, you feel like a stranger in a
in a strange place
you feel like a stranger in a
in a strange place…

 

Verse 12: I turn the taps off,
towel my self off
get dressed,
and walk out the door
I lock the front and only door
with my very own key…
This here is my Independence Day…

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,
you’ve not been here before?
welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

 

Refrain 3: Yes that’s right….
This here is my Independence Day…

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,
you’ve not been here before?
welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

 

Verse 13 (1/2): As I step down into
the underground (car)park
Water still runs down from the ceiling
Like a raging river after a storm

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,
you’ve not been here before?
welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

 

Verse 14 (1/2): Footsteps still pace back and forth
Doors bang
Cars start
But these I do not know…..

 

Chorus 2: I feel like a stranger in a
in a strange place
I feel like a stranger with a
strange face
I feel like a stranger in a
in a strange place
I feel like a stranger with a
strange face

 

Verse 15 (part): What am I imagining
How did I get here?

 

Chorus 2: I feel like a stranger in a
in a strange place
I feel like a stranger with a
strange face
I feel like a stranger in a
in a strange place
I feel like a stranger with a
strange face

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,
you’ve not been here before?
welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

 

Verse 15 (part): What am I imagining
How did I get here?

 

Chorus 2: I feel like a stranger in a
in a strange place
I feel like a stranger with a
strange face
I feel like a stranger in a
in a strange place
I feel like a stranger with a
strange face

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,
you’ve not been here before?
welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

 

Outro : oohhhhhh,
ooohhhh….
The stranger in a
in a strange place
The stranger with a
strange face…..
Page, David L (2016d) “Stranger in a strange place” ©David L Page 2016. 
“Stranger in a strange place” ©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.
Weeping Willow Tree

Boy

The next passage was written some two decades ago, after visiting the home I grew up in. I got permission from the new owners to look around the back yard, and the weeping willow tree still stood in all her glory. I took a few moments to reflect on what I had experienced in that house and backyard, and ponder what had been….

DLP Prose_Boy.1991

Page, David L (2016e) “Boy” ©David L Page 1991
The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 16 Part 3.
References
Corridor and Closed Door image courtesy of: Corridors  Accessed 18th June, 2016
Northern Lights image courtesy of: Northern lights  Accessed 22nd August, 2012
Page 2016a image courtesy of: David L Page and all previous Memory blogs published – see References  Accessed 27th September, 2016
Page 2016b image courtesy of: David L Page and all previous Memory blogs published – see References  Accessed 27th September, 2016
Page 2016c image courtesy of: David L Page and all previous Memory blogs published – see References  Accessed 27th September, 2016
Page, David L (2016d) “Stranger in a strange place” ©David L Page 2016
Page, David L (2016e) “Boy” ©David L Page 1991
Stranger in a strange place ……. audio link courtesy of: David L Page  Accessed 28th September, 2016
– ©David L Page 15/03/1991
– updated ©David L Page 28/10/2016
– updated ©David L Page 18/01/2017
Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.

Memory – Age 16 Part 1

Gratitude

This is another in-situated recollection of what I consider to have been a significant event in my life, when I was Age 16.

The lead up to Independence Day

Lead up to Independence Day©David L Page 2016
As more time progressed with my immersion in bikes, I realised how I enjoyed working on them – spending time tinkering on them, to improve their performance and their rideability.  I had over the previous couple of years progressively lost interest in high school. I never recovered from that position. I felt quite a disconnect to school. I couldn’t see much relevance to it, and so I started considering my options. I talked through a number of options with numerous school counselors and career advisers. Whilst there was concern expressed for my long-term interest in engineering at a trade level, I embarked on finding a suitable motorbike dealership to join to learn the trade of motorcycle maintenance.

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(Motorcycle Schematics 2016a, b,c)
Unfortunately, I immediately found out that at the time it was not possible in my state to gain an apprenticeship in a motorbike shop. I had to first do any required training on cars, and then once qualified, I could use my developed generic skills to gain a job in a motorcycle repair shop. It was therefore going to take a bit longer than I anticipated to embark on my interest of being a professionally motorbike tweaker. However, I recall thinking that this option certainly had more incentive for me than remaining at high school.
I had helped my dad occasionally do minor repairs and services to the family cars while growing up. My parents had always owned older Peugeot cars, one of three (3) French manufacturers a local dealer sold and serviced. So I submitted a hurriedly typed resume for consideration. I recall it was as short as two days later that I got a call for an interview. Apparently my high school grades were good, despite my declining interest over the previous few years, and the local French car dealership principal and head technician apparently saw a quality in me that satisfied them of my employability.

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(Peugeot schematics 2016a,b)
In December, about 3 months after my sixteenth (16) birthday, I commenced my first full-time job.  I rode my bicycle to work four (4) days a week, and then caught a train in the opposite direction to go to trade school one day per week.
I found trade school easy relative to others in the class, Most of the initial instruction was what I would call common sense. But again I found the small talk awkward. There were a lot of first generation Australians in the class – mainly from European backgrounds. We all thought it was ironic that I with my seventh (7) generation Australian heritage was specialising on European cars, and the others of European heritage with training on Australian-based manufacturers of Holden and Ford. I quickly realised I had a great opportunity as the French manufacturers provided large amounts of specialty training. Almost every quarter I was sent to one of the three French car manufacturers we represented, to their local city head office to be trained and certified in particular models or features. I invested in tools, and by the end of the first year I had purchased (across the many twelve (12) months) a quality set of trade tools that were the envy of most of the fully-qualified technicians.
Line-Maintenance-Set-Metric-13214_98814803.jpg
(Stahlwille Tool Kit 2016)
It is interesting to note that at the time, the industry was transitioning from what we were learning at trade school in terms of metal or electrical work, repairing damaged or faulty parts; to what was essentially parts replacement. That is, if a part was damaged in any way, then you were instructed by the manufacturer to replace that part with a new part; rather than spending time trying to fix the old damaged or faulty part. In the dealership workshop in the first three (3) months, I was given a lot of menial duties that the dealership principal saw fit (not uncommon in an apprenticeship arrangement): such as running errands, washing cars and cleaning the workshop. I didn’t expect more, given we were only being instructed on the basics of entering the trade in the first months of trade school.  Despite being my first full-time employment, I found I was able to talk relatively easily to the adult peers about work-related matters. I was very focussed on learning the technical skills, and seize any opportunity to advance my knowledge and skill set.
Engineering Technical Skills
I do recall in my deep reflection for this narrative that I was not one to engage in small talk such as everyday conversation in the workplace. I recall letting most small talk conversations wash over me. In our workshop we had one of the first female engineering apprentices in the state. I recall she had also won the apprentice of the year, the year prior to my commencement – no mean feat against 99.99% of male peers across the state. Her dad was an engineer, and she had been working on cars with him for most of her life. I learnt a lot from her. Apart from her great focus on developing her technical skills, I observed how she stood up for herself to the other male technicians in their not always gender respectful workshop banter.

Soft Skills

Having come from my own mowing and pool business, I found I could communicate with the customers well. I guess they came to trust my care of their prized automobiles, and I think also my listening to the issues that had them bring in their car in to be attended to. As the company I was working for had a relative high staff turnover, I had an increasing opportunity to assist in the service office.
At about six (6) months into my apprenticeship I was getting used to the working routine. Up everyday at about 6:20am, breakfast, shower, dress and leave home by bicycle to be at work by 8:30am. There were days when I thought about my decision to leave school, but I was gaining knowledge and doing well, so any doubts were only fleeting thoughts.
 society
At around this time, my dad arrived one evening, and called a meeting with my mother and me. The told me he had been given a job opportunity within the global organisation that he had worked for the past eight (8) years– an overseas transfer to lead a third world region in his area of speciality. They were moving. I asked when?  “They want me there in ten (10) weeks from now” my Dad replied. “That’s less than three (3) months from now?” I enquired hoping someone had misunderstood. “Yes, that’s right..”
I was presented with three options – to quit my job and study, and move to the UK and go back to high school as a boarder; or to move into an apartment and look after my self, while continuing to work. The third option of me going with them to Africa was not an option due to the lack of opportunities for me to work in East Africa – Kenya for someone my age and my interests.
I recall thinking……. oh shit!!!  Whilst there was a lot to like about my parents leaving for an overseas posting, there was also something I was fearful of – independence. Not that I didn’t want it – I very much did – in theory!  But, I also inherently knew that I had only limited experience with being independent.  My mother controlled just about everything we did, said or thought, and therefore I would say we were not raised with a view to develop our independence in a natural way.  My recent striving for independence over the previous few years resulted more from one of rebellion than natural gaining of independence. I knew I needed to break free. Now I was working – and for a dealership principal who I was discovering was tyrannical  – I began to realise that I was controlled – micro-managed in many respects – by my mother in a very autocratic way.  Life in our family for me was about doing chores, homework, and then – and only then – I was allowed to play. I can see having engaged in this deep reflective practice task – with the benefit of many years of education & learning, executive management and governance experience, that such a parental approach is actually counter productive for empowerment and developing independence in anyone. In fact, such an approach actually promotes dependence via compliance (see blog Leadership Part 1 for more on this).
On the one hand I could see that before me was a junction – a cross-road that could potentially change the course of my life. And yet, I held a very healthy dose of fear for what what was about to occur. I recall my world starting to spin…
“What about our dog Trixie?” I enquired..
“Well, we have thought about it …. we would have to give her away…..” was the response
“She (Trixie) spends some time down the road with that family, how about we ask them if they want her”…
I recall my world starting to spin very out of control. And yet, I did not at that time in my life have the presence of mind – the maturity – to realise and articulate the implications of what was about to happen. I knew in the depths of my soul what the implications of what they were suggesting, but I was not mature or in touch with my self enough, to stand my ground.
As the clock wound down – six (6) weeks out, I got cold feet, and thought how could I do this. I had to learn to cook, to clean, to iron and shop – let alone pay utilities and balance the accounts. I considered one of the original options – to move to the UK and go back to school; but I figured if i didn’t like high school in Australia, then why would high school in a foreign country – boarding – be any more cool?
So feeling I had little choice, I stayed behind, to move into a flat. My parents rented two apartments in the same block, with the idea to get a distant relative to live in the other one, in order to maintain some oversight over me.
The clock ticked down – four (4) weeks to go… the apartments were secured for us to move in. It was close to my technical school that I went to one day per weeks, and on a train line. I was going to need a train line to get to work everyday, as i was still three (3) months short of being eligible to apply for the permits to commence learning to drive a car. Once I had this permit, I then needed to learn to drive and had another three (3) months before I could take a test to gain a car driver’s licence.
Then three (3) weeks out, the family house was sold the house….
Then two (2) weeks out, the family down the road agree to take Trixie – on the one condition – that it was to be permanent, and “not just looking after her for a while”.  My heart sank to a new all-time low. My spirit died a little, without me being able to articulate what was going on….. Trixie had a sense with all of the movement around the house – packing boxes, and out of the ordinary routine – that something was about to go down, but of course, we couldn’t really talk about that.
Then one (1) week to go, it was time. It was time to move out of our house, and into the new apartment to settle and adjust before my parents flew out for the start of their new life.  It was at this time that I had to say goodbye to Trixie. I still remember the time. It was 5:30pm in the evening.  The sun was lowering, and so while there was still some light available, I took her down to the new family and handed over her things – her blanket, her collars, walking leads, feeding bowls and all of the reserves of food that we had. We said our goodbyes, but I was deliberately trying not to make too much of a fuss. I was going to come back and visit her on a regular basis – she had some young little kids in the new family to look after, and who adored her, as we in our family did. I walked out the door and back up the street, without looking back. I couldn’t look, because I didn’t want her to see, the tears flowing down my face. I had been convinced by my parents that this was to be the only way, and the best for her.
I didn’t look back… I couldn’t.. I had to move on…
I went back to the house, and we all stood in silence, not wanting to speak. Slowly, we returned to doing what was before us – the final pack of the last few things to put in the car, lock the house, and drive away. But it is what happened next, that perhaps revealed the degree of heartbreak that we were all feeling – not only me but  the whole family, including I am sure, the sixth member, Trixie.
All of a sudden, catching us all off guard, we could hear Trixie’s tail tapping against the door frames and walls, telegraphing to us all that she was back in the house. She was whimpering – almost crying – head tucked down, and looking for all of us i never room… She knew something was up, she knew something was up.. If I didn’t know better, I would say she was feeling exactly the same as us. I knew that she knew something was up….
“Lead up to Independence Day”©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.

6:00pm December 1979 (my first heartbreak)

Over a decade after this event occurred, upon returning to Australia I proactively engaged in developing my creative practice. I attended many creative writing and personal development courses to learn to better tap into my creativity. As an integral part of many of these courses was an exploratory process of one’s creative self that involved tapping into one’s past events and experiences. Yes – reflecting, considering, and writing about them in a creative way.  The following prose is what came out in one such course I attended, with relative ease if I recall correctly. To this day, I can not articulate succinctly what transpired on this final day of leaving our family house when our family dog came back to see us, better than this prose.  I would therefore like to offer this prose as the final paragraph of the above narrative – this significant event, Age 16. It was, and still remains, my first heartbreak.
I hope that through my narratives to date, it is becoming clearer that I was not so skilful at articulating my self at this time – my thoughts, opinions or emotions. I trust that this prose captures the inner turmoil I was feeling at the time of this most significant event.

DLP Prose_6pm December.1991

Page, David L. “6:00pm December, 1979 (my first heartbreak)” ©David L Page 1991
Trixie_197708_600.The Works.P2
(Trixie 2016)
The next blog in the Project 2 series is Memory – Age 16 Part 2.
References
Man in field image courtesy of: Evening Hope  Accessed 18th June, 2016
Global society image courtesy of Development of society  Accessed 15th October 2013
Lead up to Independence Day ……. audio link courtesy of: David L Page  Accessed 28th September, 2016
Motorcycle schematics 2016a Ducati 250 GT Single Engine image courtesy of: Ducati Single Engine Accessed 7th October, 2016
Motorcycle schematics 2016b Ducati Engine cutaway image courtesy of: Ducati Engine Accessed 7th October, 2016
Motorcycle schematics 2016c Ducati Engine segmented image courtesy of: Ducati Engine segmented Accessed 7th October, 2016
Motorcycle schematics 2016d Yamaha AT2 125cc Enduro Wiring image courtesy of: Yamaha AT2 125cc Enduro Wiring Accessed 7th October, 2016
Page, David L. 2016. “Lead up to Independence Day” ©David L Page 2016
Page, David L. “6:00pm December 1979 (my first heartbreak)” ©David L Page 1991
Peugeot car schematics 2016a Peugeot 504 image courtesy of: Peugeot 504 Accessed 7th October, 2016
Peugeot car schematics 2016b Peugeot 403 image courtesy of: Peugeot 403 Accessed 7th October, 2016
Soft skills image courtesy of: Baker Anderson  Accessed 24th November, 2014
Stahlwille Tool Kit 2016 image courtesy of: Line Maintenance Accessed 7th October, 2016
Technical Skills image courtesy of: Engineering Technical Skills Accessed 7th October, 2016
Trixie 2016 image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 4th September, 2016
– ©David L Page 28/02/1991
– updated ©David L Page 23/10/2016
– updated ©David L Page 15/01/2017
Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.

Memory – Age 11

Growing up

In all of my awkwardness ©David L Page 2016
For those of you who knew me as I grew up, I preferred my own company – I would spend hours alone. I don’t recall thinking why that situation may have been – I guess it just seemed easier to be in my own company. Perhaps it was, as I reflect – as I re-situate my self back in time – due to the experiences I had had as a very young lad.
In all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
My neighbourhood friends would snicker and tease me for as long as I can remember  – in this house, and the previous one as well: “your mum is scary”, “your mum is a witch”.  This perception started when my mum would yell down the street: “David – come home, come inside, come eat!” “Dinner!!”. At home I was used to hearing almost every day: “have you done your chores?”, “have you done your homework?”, “turn the TV off, go and play outside”, “come inside, it is getting dark, it is time to have a shower”, “put on a jumper, can’t you feel the cold?”. I recall thinking it must have been me, I must have been a bad kid – acting out – and in need of being controlled.
In all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
 As I got older – to be about this age – I recall wondering if my mother was actually still unwell. Even though she was no longer confined to bed, there were many conversations that centred around her back. From my perspective, it was mainly due to the way she talked, the way she acted, the way she interacted with me. I only recall seeing her relaxed or happy occasionally – often only for a split second. I recall therefore I still treated her as though she was still unwell, as I had learnt to in my first household, where she actually bedridden most of the time.
In all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
I don’t recall ever having a family discussion and speaking about this. I guess in that era – or at least in our house – kids were not included in such conversations. In our household it was always “kids should be seen, and not heard”.  I do recall that Dad was very protective of my mother, and tell me to be quiet if I was being rowdy; or he would hurry me along if mum was waiting for something to get done. I recall at some points in my life growing up, thinking to myself – “if I was a bad kid, then I needed to change, and be better”. The alternative – the yelling – just wasn’t worth it.
In all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
I now realise in-situating my self back in that time and location – within our house –  being at home was largely an uncomfortable experience. Certainly it was not a relaxing place. In my memory, it was as if we had egg shells all over the floor. I tried really really hard, as an eleven (11) year old to behave, to be quiet, to avoid those egg shells. But just sometimes, I relaxed and trod on one, and then … well… well…  well…
 I had never thought too much about why that situation may have been. I suppose I just accepted it. It was after all, all that I knew, all I that had; so I suppose I just accepted it, and tried hard to work within it, to be a better kid, and not cause problems for my parents.
In all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
(Page, 2016a)
This is another in-situated recollection of what I consider to have been a significant event in my life, when I was Age 11.

full-2

Re-experiencing the Experience 2

Re-experiencing the Experience 2 ©David L Page 2016
I in-situate myself back into
Killara in 1979
re-experiencing the experience
back in our second house
where I experienced so much….
I note
my breath is very short…
my eyes are very heavy…
I now feel very nauseous,
I am out of breath….
I am tired…..
I am tired…..
I feel ill…
Acidity rising in my belly…..
discomfort, sore throat….
Everything is so, so, so, so….
Spinning round,
I grab a rail
To stop falling down..
Something,
I have become used to
in living in my world….
Will it be over?
I don’t think so…
I don’t think so…..
When will it be over??
(Page 2016b)

ohm

God in another form

God in another form ©David L Page 2016
In all of my awkwardness
I wanted someone to hold
Someone to love…..
I don’t recall how,
But I latched onto the idea of
getting a dog
I quietly badgered my folks,
quietly badgered them,
quietly badgered them,
and quietly badgered them some more
until …..
they finally decided to fold
Dad and I drove way out
to see what was available at the pound,
so many pups,
of all shapes, sizes, ages
and experiences I was told
But there she was..
sitting calmly in the corner,
checking everything out
when she noticed some
big people at the gate
looking over at her,
she wandered over
and began to lick at
my fingers,
poking through the wire..
I just knew she was right
fair, with light-brown freckles
that we belonged
together…
we would soon become,
partners in life…
We picked her up,
and drove back home,
the Page family household was about to be
turned upside down
We now had
God in another form
(Page 2016c)

Trixie.20170406.The Works.P2

(Trixie 2016a)

My first, my only……

My first, my only…… ©David L Page 2016
In all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
Someone to hang with, and pass the time with,
Play with, hang with, and not have to be told
the what, the when, the where, and with whom I could hang out with…
In all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
I don’t recall when, but I latched onto the idea of getting a dog. From what influence? I do not recall… But in all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
I do recall very vividly that my parents were initially dead against the idea – a dog was foreign to them. “you will not look after it!” “No!” I am pretty sure getting a dog represented to them something else to look after – another mouth to feed. Reflecting, I suppose their logic could have been that we seemed to battle as a family just getting through all what we needed to everyday; we didn’t need something else to add on top, that could possibly tip the boat some more…
I felt it would be good to get a dog….
For some reason, I got it into my head…..
I quietly badgered my parents for many, many months,
probably several years
Until they caved in,
I had to promise that I was to look after her…..
feed her, walk her, wash her….
I had to promise that I was to look after her…..
feed her, walk her, wash her….
My dad took me out to the pound,
To see what we could find
And there she was..
A labrador-cross
whitish short hair
with light brown spots….
It was my eleventh birthday
when she came into my world
I didn’t know it then
she became my best friend
Inseparable,
side by side
We made a box for her to sleep in,
in the laundry,
which was close to my bedroom/ my rumpus room,
so I could check up on her….
and it didn’t matter is she pooed around….
All of a sudden the house turned upside down,
everyone was curious to see her around….
there was enough excitement for everyone
in our household
Trix was overwhelmed,
And every time someone went
into the garage next to the laundry,
she was terrified of who these big people were,
and ran and hid in the corner,
under dad’s work bench…
A few days later,
she started to curl up at my feet,
sometimes,
chewing on my shoe,
sometimes on my toe

Trixie.20170406.The Works.P2

(Trixie 2016b)
So we gave her,
her own slipper to carry around
all day
especially when she got excited,
she would have to carry something
in her mouth
especially when someone came home…
She would almost cry and wet herself,
with excitement,
when someone came home…
I made a kennel for her…
and put it out the back door…..
but to be honest,
she rarely lived in it,
she quickly lived inside
Upstairs, she had her own chair in the living room….
and watch TV with the family…
At the end of the night,
when I went to bed
She would come downstairs with me
and curl up inside
on her blankets
at the foot of my bed,
She would say goodnight, and
wake me up with a lick to the face
in the morn
then scratch at the door
to go and run out the night’s sleep,
investigate who had been around,
sniff, bark, and then pee
She would finish off the morning run,
collecting the daily delivered newspaper
Dad would let her in at the main front door
and Trix would deliver the paper to my mother’s side….
wagging her tail,
In all her awkwardness, she wanted to
wake em up and give them some morning love…
I knew her well enough,
she wanted my mum to  love her back,
she wasn’t going to give up,
until she had love from
the entire household…
Morning tea and toast,
My dad would make for my mum
Trix would stay for breakfast,
Well until at least she got some reward…
We played in the street
We went on adventures
We played rugby
She visited my school…

Trixie_197112_600.The Works.P2

(Trixie 2016c)
I recall starting to feel less awkward, I now had someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
Though my mum was opposed to the idea of having a dog,
she caved in, and soon
while I was at school,
my mum and Trixie became inseparable..
She hung with my mum
in mum’s home workroom,
everyday,
next to her feet
when I was at school
When mum would go down the street,
Trix would go with her,
she would assume her position
in the front passenger seat..
she looked as if was
advising my mum on where to go,
which road to turn down,
Or least
holding my mum in conversation…
Trix would let herself in,
she would let herself out
through any door she pleased,
didn’t matter is there was door handle,
or it was sliding..
Trix’s nose was her hand
an all access pass, at anytime
a hand to nudge anyone
when she or they needed some love…
I recall starting to feel less awkward, I now had someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
Trix would hear the afternoon school bell…
3:00pm,
she would go downstairs,
and left her self out,
she would go outside, and wait for me,
and if I wasn’t prompt in coming home,
she would come up to school
and look for me….
Just to make sure
I was sure
my soul mate walked in another form….
She came from the pound,
someone else chose not to love her
she fell for our family
she now had someone to love (her), someone to hold (her)…..
I was sure
my soul mate walked in another form….
We all became so inseparable
Trix broke down the walls
of our household
protecting us from strange goings on,
or so she thought..
barking and frightening away the possums
anyone she thought might hurt us,
or so she thought…
I was sure
my soul mate walked in another form….
she came from the pound,
someone else chose not to love her
she fell for our family
she now had someone to love (her), someone to hold (her)…..
I was sure
my soul mate walked in another form….
she came from the pound,
someone else chose not to love her
she fell for our family
she now had someone to love (her), someone to hold (her)…..
I was sure
my soul mate walked in another form….
she came from the pound,
someone else chose not to love her
she fell for our family
she now had someone to love (her), someone to hold (her)…..

Trixie.20170406.The Works.P2

(Trixie 2016b)
(Page 2016d)
My first, my only…… ”©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.
The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 12.
References
My first, my only…. audio link courtesy of: David L Page  Accessed 4th September, 2016
My first, my only……  image courtesy of: David L Page  Accessed 4th September, 2016
Ohm image courtesy of: Ohm  Accessed 28th May, 2016
 Page, David L. 2016a. “In all of my awkwardness” ©David L Page 2016
Page, David L. 2016b. “Re-experiencing the Experience 2” ©David L Page 2016
Page, David L. 2016c. “God in another form” ©David L Page 2016
Page, David L. 2016d. “My first, my only……” ©David L Page 2016
Pulsating image courtesy of: Image Accessed 15th January, 2016
Trixie 2016a image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 4th September, 2016
Trixie 2016b image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 4th September, 2016
Trixie 2016c image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 4th September, 2016
– ©David L Page 06/09/1990
– updated ©David L Page 05/09/2016
– updated ©David L Page 22/12/2016
Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.