Benjamin's Grandpa

It still amazes me how events in our family's living memory are history to others.

Benjamin and Bridget were at a friend's house the other evening. This friend and his father are mad about aeroplanes and the conversation must have steered to the Second World War (it was actually the Pacific War that they'd been talking about). Benjamin mentioned this at home and I said that Grandpa and Grandma had been in the Second World War. This must have impressed him. The next day he mentioned it to a friend at school who was disbelieving enough to want to check the story out with me.

I relayed this to Grandpa via email with the following response

"now let him tell his school friend that his Grandpa remembers three things which happened in the FIRST World War. My Daddy held me up to the front bedroom window on a dark dark night; and I saw a burning German Zeppelin going past to its crashing site a couple of kilometres up the Great North Road. One Saturday morning, I stood outside the front door with the old gentleman next door; and looked up to see 12 German bombers going up the Great North Road after bombing London. At 11o'clock on 11th November 1918; my Mummy was taking me up in a factory lift in London, when we heard the sirens (maroons, we called them in those days) which told us the war had finished."

Priceless. From burning German Zeppelins and maroons to email. Who would have thought.

The first funeral

I have been busy with a paper for the Academy of International Business since coming home from a wonderful 2 weeks in Australia over Christmas. Now each time I ask the children where they want to go for holidays (Chinese New Year, Easter) they chorus "Australia". We'll get there more often now but under 2 weeks is not worth it.

Today is the first time I'm going to a memorial service for a friend. Roger died on his way coming back from South Africa to Macau. Apparently he was waiting for the plane at the airport and had a heart attack. He hadn't heeded the signs and didn't want to go to any of the doctors here in Macau as he didn't trust their expertise and he just didn't get around to going elsewhere for a check-up.

The tertiary institution that he worked for has been utterly dreadful throughout the process. I've been told that his death "isn't formal" yet. Another friend was told by someone in the HR department that Roger might have been in a hospital somewhere for all they knew. It didn't matter that Roger's brother had phoned the Dean from London to advise him of Roger's passing. What awful things to say to Roger's friends who were asking about a memorial and what was to happen to his belongings, body and, well, everything. Roger died on 30th December, it's taken them until yesterday (22nd Jan) to announce his passing in the local paper and with only one day's notice for the memorial service. I've been asking about this since I heard on 2nd January, promised advice would be sent to me, but nothing. And, mind you, they posted it in the least read English language newspaper in Macau. As you see, I'm not happy with this organisation, their support for Roger or other expatriate staff and they certainly seem to care little for his memory. Anyway, we'll wait and see what this afternoon brings. I'm sure they'll put on a decent show of it.

Poor Roger, 57, no family and much yet to say about why he was here and what he could do. He seemed dedicated to his students and loved teaching. And so eloquent in that overseas British sort of way - although he was Australian at heart. He was ambivalent about Macau but seemed to be able to use the system to his advantage. He was the person who told me that there are certain aspects of this place that you have to insulate yourself from. He gave me that permission to not accept everything around me. I have a wonderful recording of my interview with him in the early days. I still wonder, often, what kept him here but I think it was because 'they left him alone' to do what he does best - teach. That's why he was so annoyed when they starting streaming the academics between lecturers and researchers. And, he had theories for everything. I'll miss bumping into him at the university cafe - that was the only way to guarantee a meeting. He was notorious for disappearing for a few weeks - no emails, not on the phone - but then he'd pop up again. He was around, just not contactable. And then there were the funny little SMSs that he'd send to all his friends at once, out of the blue. Like the last one from the airport in South Africa...

Good-bye to dear Roger