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

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

such a new life……..

such a new life……..

such a new life……..

such a new life……..

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…..

Page, David L (2016a) “Afraid” ©David L Page 1991

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

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.

(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.

(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.

(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.

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.

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.

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.

Page, David L. “6:00pm December, 1979 (my first heartbreak)” ©David L Page 1991

(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.

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.

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)

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 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 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 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 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.

(My first love)

My first love……the piano

For those who know me now, this statement may surprise you. My first love of a musical instrument was actually with the piano.

Having moved into a new house when I was eight (8) years of age, my mother began playing her music. Much of the music album she played were piano-based classical pieces, and played at volume through my father’s oversea’s purchased Bang and Olufsen stereo system. I loved the tones of the piano as a musical instrument. I recall being attracted to the multiple string tones that could concurrently emanate from within the large wooden structure of an acoustic piano cabinet.  I recall I would listen in awe of the piano players’ ability to play. I had no knowledge of how these players were playing at that time. I just loved the sounds, and the places these sounds took me. In most instances, it was as if the recorded piano was next to me, and mostly I felt that my head was actually placed within the acoustic piano cabinet. It was that clear, and bell-like in tone.

I now understand how these sounds are constructed. In simplistic term, the piano player would play both a left-hand bass note chordal vamp, whilst simultaneously playing a right-hand mid or high register melodic line. The combination of these two often conversational acts, created musical and sonic textures that were complex and multi-layered in notes – tones and harmonics. I recall how these beautifully constructed musical and sonic passages could stand on their own – almost an orchestra in themselves. The piano as an instrument could certainly lighten my deepest thoughts. It certainly lifted the world off my shoulders when things were dark, as if summoning angels from afar.

As I describe in my Music Practitioner Part 1 – Beginnings blog, when I was about ten (10) years old, I moved downstairs into a large rumpus room with an old gramophone radio (a record player and radio), and a pianola (as above) inherited from my grandfather. Whilst I tinkered on the piano from time to time, I found I actually spent more time listening to others’ songs and productions on the gramophone radio in these times. I was never interested in the piano as an instrument for me to play. I can not remember ever badgering my parents for piano lessons; nor can I recall scouring music magazines looking at pictures of the various types of pianos.

However, I do recall quietly badgering my parents for a guitar. I do vividly recall scouring those same music magazines looking at pictures of guitars. Just a few months later, I found my self with a guitar in my hand. That was four and a half decades ago.

My first love affair……the guitar

I am not sure if I remember exactly the first time I heard one of these six (6) stringed instruments. Who was playing this instrument on that first occasion? Was it T-Bone Walker, Django Reinhardt, Robert Johnson, Howling Wolfe, Woody Guthrie, John Lee Hooker, Les Paul, Albert King, BB King, Muddy Waters, Bill Hailey, Bo Diddley, Lonnie Donegan, Chuck Berry, Johnny Cash, Buddy Holly, Eddie Cochrane, Elvis, Scotty Moore, John Lennon, Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, George Harrison, Paul McCartney, Mike Bloomfield, Jeff Beck, Alvin Lee, Lonnie Mack, Pete Townsend, Neil Young, David Gilmour, David Bowie, Cat Stevens, T-Rex, or Rory Gallagher?

(Robert Johnson 1936)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGk72L652K4

(T-Bone Walker 1966)

So what was it about this instrument that grabbed my attention? It did not seem to make any difference to me whether the six stringed instruments were an acoustic guitar, an electric guitar, or a hybrid – an electric hollow body (referred to as a semi-acoustic for a number of years) guitar. Every production seemed to have something on offer from this six stringed instrument; the infectious rhythms, the jangly harmony of the strummed chords, the melody played as a relatively thin lead line, or the improvised lead lines with a range of processing or distortion applied.  

(The Jimi Hendrix Experience 1968)

Irrespective of who was playing, or on what type of six (6) stringed instrument it was, I could soon hear every note, interval or chord played in a production.  I could hear the range of tones from the variety of timbers, pickups, string gauge, the type of approach the guitar player was taking in playing this instrument – strumming, fingerpicking, finger picks, or flat picking, the velocity in which they caressed or attacked the instrument, the type and gauge of plectrum being used, the amp, or the processing applied.

(Al Di Meola, John McLaughlin, Paco DeLucia 1980)

I suppose my love affair with this six stringed instrument may have been somewhat influenced by my brother. He did after all bring his red electric hollow body into my world, and teased me everyday with it… perhaps….

Perhaps my pursuit was fuelled by me being left-handed, with a limited number of guitars to play –  cajoling me, whispering to me, teasing me that I wouldn’t get to play any of them? mmmm…. likely….

Perhaps my interest was motivated by the daring showmanship of many performers I had seen playing guitar and singing – entertaining a crowd?  mmm… very cool….

Perhaps, my interest was motivated by witnessing something being played that appeared to be technically difficult – and yet so smooth, so fluid, so musical? mmm… was likely to have been….

Or perhaps, I was inspired by certain troubadours to develop the craft of guitar playing, along with singing, and songwriting – to a depth I had never heard before?  mmmm, certainly was true…….

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-7c4VNGOgU

(Cat Stevens 1970)

Perhaps I was attracted ’cause I could physically embrace the entire instrument, my body around hers?  mmmm…. that was for sure…..

(Willie Nelson by Platon)

Perhaps it was my desire to feel her curves, and caress her neck – all whilst learning to talk to her, in a revealing and meaningful way, with just her….. Very likely as well….

(Guitar curves)

Perhaps, it was my desire to connect with the earth, and smell her natural scents… Oh, so many times I recall……..

(Guitar Timbers)

Perhaps it was all of these things, with the affair enabled by the portability of the instrument?  Perhaps?   Likely?  Probably?  Very likely?   No, no, no……   I AM sure!      Yes, I am so so sure ……………..

Yes, my first love affair with a musical instrument was with a guitar. Over many years, I have sometimes reflected. Did I cheat on the piano, for the guitar? Did I? Other questions usually then come in rapid succession. What would have happened if I had remained loyal? Where would I have possibly ended up? and, Could that place been anything more than what I have experienced to date?

The guitar is the mistress that I got involved with. I had leapt down the rabbit-hole. Judge me if you will, I was now well over my head: head over heals in love, in my first ever love affair.

This is another episode in my life I recall, when I was Age 10.

(Woodstock 1969)

My First Guitar

My First Guitar ©David L Page 2016

My brother was several years older,

I looked up to him

he was more

physical, more athletic,

than me

He always had a sense of calm,

of what he wanted to do,

(he was) at one with himself…

of who he was,

and who he wanted to be….

so grounded…

Not so for me

I am told….

Apparently,

I wanted a stage to play on,

to run, and jump, and make a noise

I can still recall listening to am radio,

how much I would dream,

of it being me,

performing in front of a crowd,

and listening to the audience scream

But if anyone looked at me directly,

I would run and hide

the way it was,

for the time being

I looked up to to my brother

He always had a sense of what he wanted

who he was,

and who he wanted to be….

He was physical, athletic, alternative….

he and his friends listened to cool music..

he influenced me in every way…

and then…….

he started to play….

(Aria Electric Hollow Body Guitar)

 He got an electric hollow body (335)

(much like Fogerty from CCR)

it was big and cherry red,

he started strumming,

and then plucking it…

I remember just standing at the door,

watching, and listening, and

watching and listening, and

watching, and listening……

imagining it was me

I remember thinking to myself,

I wanted to do that…

Get on a stage and play,

perform in front of a crowd,

and listening to the audience scream

all day

(imagining) ..just like the Beatles, Jackson 5,

Cocker, CCR, Hendrix, the Who,

Led Zepp, the Aztecs, and Daddy Cool,

and me

When I get a little older

I want a guitar ….

and get up on a stage and perform,

and listen to the audience scream..

I was a lefty,

which made it strange

to strum my brothers

right-hand 335

It was big and red,

it just drew me in…

I would stop and try to play with it,

every time I walked passed

strum the strings,

strike the strings

bang the strings,

stroke the strings

to see what noise I could get out of it,

ahh… (I’d) listen to its ring…

When I get a little older

I want a guitar

and get up on a stage and perform,

Just to let it ring (out)…

I can hear it now

I can hear the audience scream..

He plugged it in,

To the stereo amp

To hear its electrics…

trying to get it to sing…..

When I get a little older

I want a guitar

and get up on a stage and perform,

Just to let it ring (out),

I can hear it now

getting up on a stage to perform,

I can see it now,

I can hear it now

listen to the audience scream..

My dad came home

from one of his trips overseas,

behind him stood a large cardboard box,

within it,

something for me….

(Aria Acoustic Dreadnought Guitar)

An acoustic dreadnought

a lefty cherry burst ,

red fading down to natural,

just,  just, just

just for me…

she was mine…

I strummed it..

I struck the strings,

I banged it,

I stroked the strings

any thing to make a noise

It spoke to me….

metal strings off a spruce wood top

Ahhhh……..

music to my ears……

When I get a little older

I want to get up on a stage and perform,

Just to let my guitar ring (out)…

I can hear it now

I can hear the audience scream..

Now I just got to learn

What to do, how to play…

where to put my fingers

how can I get my fingers to move….

like Alvin Lee

Ouch, ouch…

My 10 year old fingers

trying to push down on the strings

Lots of metal buzzing…

strumming, striking, banging, stroking

I can hear it now…

ringing in my room,

ah music to my ears

When I get a little older

I want to get up on a stage and perform,

strumming, striking, banging, stroking

my guitar

I can hear it now….

letting it ring (out)

I can hear it now….

I can hear the audience scream..

When I get a little older

I want to get up on a stage and perform,

strumming, striking, banging, stroking

my guitar

I can hear it now….

letting it ring (out)

I can hear it now….

I can hear the audience scream..

“My First Guitar”©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.

(A number of the mistresses I have had over the years)

(Puffing Billy 2016a)

My earliest recollection of trains are of

Puffing Billy……….

Train to freedom

Train to Freedom©David L Page 2016

Puffing Billy was a train,

but not just any old train…

she was a train driven by steam…

(Puffing Billy 2016b)

She had had a life,

carting logs  down

 from the mountain ranges

the Dandenongs…

(Puffing Billy 2016c)

By the time I met her,

she had been retired quite a few years,

logging had been called off…

(Puffing Billy 2016d)

and the Puffing Billy railway..

was now for hire..

for families to come and have a ride and see…

what fun it was to ride aboard

a great steam locomotive…

(Puffing Billy 2016e)

Down in Victoria

out of the city,

up on the mountain ranges,

in the Dandenongs

(Puffing Billy 2016f)

The memory is still so strong,

I was on holidays with my Victorian

aunty, uncle and cousins,

I must have been about age 5

(DLP 2016)

I was so excited when I first saw her,

filling her up with all of the coal,

moving her around the yard,

getting her ready for a day out,

up on the mountain ranges,

in the Dandenongs

(Puffing Billy 2016g)

Steam engine blows

smoke goes up,

kids, smile and chatter,

calling out to their aunties and cousins,

others to their mums and friends

“let’s go, let’s go”

(Puffing Billy 2016h)

The conductor on the station platform,

rings his bell and shouts

“all aboard the Puffing Billy –

she’s about to pull out, let’s go, let’s go”

kids, smile and chatter,

calling out to their aunties and cousins,

others to their mums and friends

“come on, we gotta go,

let’s go, let’s go”

(Puffing Billy 2016i)

Steam engine blows

smoke goes up,

kids, smile and chatter,

calling out to their aunties and cousins,

others to their mums and friends

“let’s go, let’s go”

Wheels start a turning

engines starts a chugging..

train carriages jolt, bounce and bang

metal clangs, and metal clunks

as the Puffing Billy’s starts to move along…

(Puffing Billy 2016j)

kids, smile and chatter,

calling out to their aunties and cousins,

others to their mums and friends

“we’re moving, we’re moving”……

they are having the time of their life..

(DLP 2016)

Kids smile, chatter and point

Running from side to side

“look at (this), look at (that)”……

they are having the time of their life..

(Puffing Billy 2016k)

The train – she is a-chugging,

as she winds up the hill,

the kids are still smiling,

and yelling and pointing,

running from side to side

“look at (this), look at (that)”……

they are having the time of their life..

(Puffing Billy 2016l)

As she gains some speed,

the open carriage allows for a breeze

that massages everyone’s smile,

and almost freezes it in time,

for eternity….

Everyone’s hair is blowing in the wind/breeze

as the Puffing Billy weaves

in and out of the trees,

and around the bends….

up onto the mountain ranges,

in the Dandenongs

(Puffing Billy 2016m)

She is really chugging along now,

with all of the wind, the breeze, the steam,

I can still smell…(large breath in)

the smell of the soot coming from her coal-burning steam producing engine,

against the back drop of the rain forest mountain ranges,

in the Dandenongs

(Puffing Billy 2016n)

Kids call out details to their aunties and cousins,

others to their mums and friends……

They squeal, and yell, and shout, and

squeal, and yell, and shout, and

squeal, and yell, and shout, and

squeal, and yell, and shout, and

squeal, and yell, and shout in delight…….

(Puffing Billy 2016o)

The kids are still smiling,

and yelling and pointing,

running from side to side

“look at (this), look at (that)”……

they are having the time of their life..

(Puffing Billy 2016p)

The kids are still smiling,

and yelling and pointing,

running from side to side

“look at (this), look at (that)”……

they are having the time of their life..

(Puffing Billy 2016q)

I am still smiling,

and yelling and pointing,

running from side to side

“look at (this), look at (that)”……

I am having the time of my life..

                                                   (Puffing Billy 2016n)

The Puffing Billy…..

my earliest recollection of a train….

that perhaps explains one of my loves…

“Train to Freedom”©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.

Reflection

As long as I can remember,

trains represent fun times….

…..freedom….

I usually always experienced them on holidays…

times of leisure…

down time…..

For my first experience,

the Puffing Billy experience,

I was away from home,

spending time with my aunty, uncle and cousins

I must have been age five (5)

I was staying in a house

the curtains wide open,

with the sun light streaming in….

the house was filled with chatter,

laughter and cheer

 people were talking, and

playing music…

it seemed like all day…

Friends dropped in

to share a coffee and a chat

the dogs would run and chase each other

in the garden

mini-bikes at the back door

my uncle would go running,

some sort of marathon event,

I recall I would go and watch,

running and cheering,

up and down the street

I therefore suppose I learnt to associate trains

with fun and freedom

a new place, a new destination…..

somewhere for some new adventure,

some new experience..

something so different,

to that I was living,

in another stage of my life

a new place, a new destination….

perhaps,

even a new beginning in life….

The train as a symbol

has stayed with me through my life

metaphorically,

moving from one station,

to another …….

going from one place

to another…..

arriving into a station….

a new place, a new destination….

somewhere for some new adventure,

some new experience..

something so different,

to that I was living,

in another stage in my life

a new place, a new destination….

perhaps,

even a new beginning in life….

Trains have been significant

in certain places

such as growing up in Sydney…

an essential part of everyday life,

moving from A to B

getting to school..

getting home…

getting to my music lessons,

on time

In Paris,

in London,

In New York,

in Tokyo too

trains were an essential part of everyday life..

moving from A to B

getting around,

on time

Trains also represent to me,

social equality,

transport for the masses….

open to anyone,

all types of people use them,

from all range of age, social, and cultural backgrounds….

sometimes  local,

and sometimes, just new arrivals…..

You can meet all types,

sometimes you strike a few words,

as you move between stations,

but them more often than not,

you say your goodbyes at the station,

and move into another adventure

by one self…

The train as a symbol

has remained with me through my life

metaphorically,

moving from one station,

to another …….

going from one place

to another…..

arriving into a station….

a new place, a new destination….

leading to new adventures,

a new experience..

something so different,

to that I was living,

in another stage of my life

a new place, a new destination….

new experiences..

some learnings, some lessons,

some sadness or some fun

perhaps,

even a new beginning in life….

A number of these destinations

have become……

my

significant events….

Associative memory

Just about every memory I recall

of trains…..

Has the associated smell of charcoal,

or industrial metal…

Just about every memory I recall

of trains…..

Has the sound of cast iron metal on metal……

People chatting….

People laughing….

Kids talking…

squealing, and yelling, and shouting

Perhaps, not surprising one of the first songs

I noticed when I was growing up

was Cat Steven’s “Peace Train”…

Much later in life,

again perhaps not surprising

I fell in love with the cover version

of the Curtis Mayfield song “People Get Ready”

– with Rod Stewart and Jeff Beck

Intention for Project 1

So within this composition – Project 1

I intend to use multiple sonic events…

Train samples of metal clanging, train whistles blowing, and

the sound of the train slowing down…

along with kids

squealing, yelling, and shouting,

having fun…

with their family and friends…

I use the complex-layered train sonic event symbolically…

The sound of a train linking each significant event…..

The sound of a train arriving into a station….

Leading into each of these significant events…..

Over and over….

Across the many stages I narrate,

Of my life…

The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 7.

References

DLP images courtesy of: DLP Slideshare Accessed 15h June, 2016

Page, David L. 2016. “Train to Freedom” ©David L Page 2016

Puffing Billy 2016a image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016b image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016c image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016d image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016e image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016f image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016g image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016h image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016i image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016j image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016k image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016l image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016m image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016n image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016o image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016p image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Puffing Billy 2016q image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016

Train to Freedom …. audio link courtesy of: David L Page  Accessed 25th November, 2016

– ©David L Page 23/09/1990

– updated©David L Page 12/08/2016

– updated ©David L Page 21/11/2016

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.