A Glass Full of Water

  My older sister Linda sent me two stories last week. Here’s the first one.  A 3 year old boy asked his mum if he could make breakfast for the rubbish truck men on his birthday. He set a table on the side of the road with drinks, food and some cakes for the men. They stopped their truck and were visibly moved when they saw ‘the feast’ prepared for them. They hugged the little boy and enjoyed their special breakfast. Davi the boy said that every week these men take the rubbish and he wanted to thank them. He wasn’t interested in super heroes or the latest toys. He just wanted to do something for the men.  The next story is about another 3 year old boy. The boy’s grandfather has struggles with his mental health. The boy has worked out in a childlike way that his grandfather has difficulty in this way, so…without being asked he sits with him and always gives him an extra hug and an extra big wave when leaving. This is kindness that is not taught. This is when children teach...

Walking into one of my favourite cafes in Raglan a couple of weeks ago I noticed a man writing. I asked him if he was journaling and he replied that he was (I love to see people writing with a pen and reading books in cafes). I began reading a magazine and he carried on writing. After a while he and I started talking (No surprise there!). We talked about family and community. Introductions followed and we then talked about our occupations. Leonard is a director of Fosters, a commercial construction and property development company in the Waikato and Bay of Plenty.  I was intrigued to know if the company also espoused community and family.  Later, I wandered through their website and sure enough they do. There were a number of references to ‘serving the community’, ‘what it means to build thriving communities’, ‘ it gives us great satisfaction to be able to give back’.  In practice, in 2024 they gave $374K to community support initiatives. They also believe strongly ...

I was at Eden Park, Auckland, last Saturday, watching a rugby test between New Zealand (The All Blacks) and South Africa (The Springboks). On the playing field there was pushing, shoving, collisions and bone rattling tackles. Off the field and in the stands were over 48 thousand noisy fans mostly dressed in their team colours of black or green. Mostly good natured stirring between fans could be heard and seen. The game ended with a deserved win to the All Blacks. Yusss.  Most fans stood to leave, but in our stand the stairs were blocked with fans all wanting to leave at the same time. A woman next to me was getting hassled by a drunk New Zealand fan behind her wanting to get past. There was nowhere to go and she was determined to not let him. He then turned his attention to me and demanded I let him go past. Like the woman I argued with him, “We can’t move.” He repeatedly told me to get out of the way and I repeatedly told him, “No!”  Tension now filled the air around us and I...

They say we remember our teachers for their character rather than for what they taught us. One teacher I remember for all the wrong reasons. He was a narcissistic bully who disliked children. He accused me of ruining a ball game. “Well, Horne. What do you have to say for yourself?” I started to reply, but he cut me off mid sentence. “Be quiet boy! I don’t like smart boys and today you are smart and stupid.” His face was full of unbridled rage.  The class was asked what consequences I should get for my crimes and he wrote the suggestions on the blackboard. White print on a black day. Only two students supported me. My twin brother Chris and a friend Simon.  I was so hurt and confused as I genuinely hadn’t done anything wrong and was also thinking about what dad would say and do so my anxiety was mounting. Just before dinner, Dad’s car came down the driveway and I heard him turn into the garage. Retreating into the wardrobe in our bedroom, I could hear muffled voices coming down...