A Glass Full of Water

For the last 15 years, Val and I have had the joy of being ‘Santa’s little helpers’. Let me explain. Christmas is not a happy occasion for all families - putting food on the table every day can be difficult, so more expensive festive food is out of the question.   Cue to our friend who wishes to remain anonymous. Each year I get a phone call from him asking if we are free to deliver again.  Val and I meet him in a Hamilton Supermarket carpark at a pre-arranged time and day a week before Christmas. He parks his car next to ours and then we offload the most amazing array of Christmas goodies for delivery to a family. The best of meats, treats, goodies and a voucher. Laden boxes are transferred with smiles and happy conversations. In past years, he has had his own children involved in selecting suitable items and for the last two years, our Auckland granddaughter has come with us too. We hug and shake hands with our friend and tears fill our eyes. We are such big softies!  ...

How can we be kind to others if we can’t be kind to ourselves?   How can we encourage others, if we aren’t good at encouraging ourselves? How can we change our self-talk from negative to positive? I’m a stutterer. Relatively few people know this, and if you were speaking with me, you would never know. I have  come a long way from my early years, when my stutter was a form of torture. I used to make deliberate mistakes in my writing at primary school, so I wouldn’t have to read it out to the class. I would internally berate myself for mucking my words up and would run away from a ringing phone.  Asking for something in a shop was excruciating. A few people made fun of me and it hurt. I lived with a lot of fear but I had to face it and believe in myself.  Over time I had more successes in public speaking and my confidence grew. I was still a sweaty mess when I had to speak but I was getting better. Much later, when I was a guest lecturer at Waikato University in Storyt...

I saw this quote a few days ago… ‘People don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care’. When I was a high school teacher in Hamilton, I had two classes of Gateway students. University is not for everyone and the boys in these classes were keen to secure a trade apprenticeship before the school year ended.  By way of explanation, the Gateway programme is designed to give students one day in the school week practical work experience in a trade workplace and a theoretical class based programme that helps the students get work ready.  The Gateway team of Manager, two administrators and me the classroom teacher worked tirelessly to get positive outcomes. On the student’s last day I would talk one on one with the student (in private) and let them know why I thought they would succeed in the next stage of their lives. I would say things such as;  “I like your work ethic, John. I think your boss will too. Your determination to succeed in plumbing has been notice...

“The door knocker thingie must be here somewhere,” I said to my oldest daughter Sarah, as we brushed  twigs, leaves and spider webs off our clothing. It was a damp and dark, but it didn’t matter. We were visiting Dr White*, an elderly gentleman who lived over the road from Gordonton Primary School. He lived by himself in a house that had seen better days. It was  shrouded by overgrown trees and bushes.   We called out together, “ Dr White! Dr White!” We knocked and waited, and waited. Shuffling and mumbling could be heard. Many locks were being undone. The door creaked slowly open and a warm smile greeted us. As usual, he offered me a cup of tea, orange juice for Sarah and some stale biscuits. Sarah remembers me giving her a father stare when she tried to palm off her half eaten biscuit under the table. I remember his fingerless gloves and toothy smile. We would visit unannounced as he was always at home. The company and conversations were worthwhile and treasured. I’m so...

On the Special Olympics Games day, nervous faces were at both ends of the100 metre track. The starter gun echo reverberated around the almost empty Porritt Stadium in Hamilton. Closer and closer they came. Just imagine a 90kg athlete running at you. Your job is to stop them running past you or over you. If you don’t slow them down and then stop them, they will continue around the track, smiling all the way!  My Year 7/8 class at Gordonton Primary School were experiencing a very different version of kindness. They were helping young people and adults with intellectual disabilities participate in this event assigned to us. We were invited to help every year by Neil, the school caretaker.  The class were keen to help, but naturally had a lot of questions. I used to end my talk with them by saying they were about to possibly experience a life changing event.  Advice was given to work in pairs and look after the athletes and each other. We had lots of laughs and at the end of ...

Our family of five lived in Darwin, Australia for a year on a teacher exchange. We swapped our jobs, cars, houses and kept our wives and children.  Darwin was an amazing city to live in, fast growing, cosmopolitan and hot. The humidity level in the wet season would often be 100% and still it wouldn’t rain. All ethnic groups and cultures appeared to be accepted, except one - the aboriginal people and their culture.  On one occasion, I was walking outside and sought refuge from the oppressive heat by sheltering under a tree and sat on a park bench. Another person was sharing the seat with me. Me being me, I started up a conversation. The aboriginal man and I were talking away, when we were interrupted by a loud voice,  “Do you know what you are sitting next to?” Instantaneously I replied, “What did you say? I’ll sit next to who I like!” Our heated exchange finished abruptly. Since when was a person a ‘what’? Another time on a family visit to Alice Springs, we were walking a...

Brian Chesham was sleeping rough for 15 years. He would park his battered car underneath the Stewart Street trees in Raglan.  Val and I first noticed him when we arrived over  six years ago. His hair, beard and baggy pants blew in the wind as he spent countless hours padding around town in bare feet with his loyal German Shepherd, Luga.  We would often say hi and Brian would grunt back. After many such greetings the grunt turned into friendly conversations and returned smiles. Brian grew to trust us and once he got to know you he valued chatting over a coffee outside a few cafes. He could tell a few yarns and enjoyed a good belly laugh. He had a sharp mind and a quick wit. Raglan appreciated Brian for who he was. Our community generously purchased him a van fitted out with a fridge, cooktop and dog bowls. Brian was rapt with the gift and if possible his toothy grin got bigger.  A local farmer let him put his van under cover in a barn over winter.  Brian passed a...