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...

They don’t make Morris Minor cars anymore. They were known as an economy car and were described as typifying ‘Englishness’.  My mum had a  ‘Morrie Thou’ (A thousand CC Morris Minor). It had indicators that popped out the left and right sides like tiny arms. Kind of cute and kind of comical.  Many years ago my friend Stephen invited me to go with him in his Morris Minor around the South Island of New Zealand. I accepted his invitation, knowing that our trip might take a few extra days as his car had a top speed of 70 kph going downhill with a tail wind.  A week or so into our trip and we found ourselves in a small town (whose name I can’t remember) on Christmas Day. It was around lunchtime and we were rather dejectedly watching family groups gathering for lunch.  As we sat outside a shop a stranger must have noticed our forlorn faces. He stopped and asked us if we had somewhere to go for lunch. We said no and to our surprise and delight he then asked us to come t...

I was acting principal of Silverdale Normal School in Hamilton for two terms in the early 2000’s. I enjoyed the formality of wearing a suit but on some late afternoons I would rebel and loudly play ‘Smoke on the Water’ by Deep Purple in my office.  One afternoon I got a call from the local police regarding the suspicious behaviour of a man in a nearby bush reserve. I decided to check out the area myself as a way of keeping our students safe while walking home.  Five minutes later I walked past nearby shops and entered the reserve that was networked by connecting boardwalks. Woah! Did I just see a shadowy figure lurking at the opposite entrance? My pace quickened but the figure moved out of sight just as I rounded the corner and as my feet slipped out from under me. The mystery figure had disappeared, unlike the growing smell around me and it was then that I realised I had slipped on doggie doo. Heaps of it. Yellow, stinky and smeared all over my suit.  Flustered, I made m...

Grandmas are everywhere. I’m married to one. Their many kindnesses to their grandchildren are honoured in this blog post.  Let me start with my grandma in Auckland. Grandma Webb would host her six grandchildren every Friday night for fish and chips, followed by calcium cookies for dessert. This can’t have been easy for her as we weren’t always on our best behaviour! My mum would let our daughters do baking, preparing cookies for the oven on her kitchen floor (covered with newspapers). They would create a tray each and according to mum were always perfect. With mums help they also created their own oil paintings.  My wife Val (Marzie or Jamma to her eight grandchildren) has spent countless hours over the years with them. Our oldest grandchild Jackson was picked up after school and did his homework with her. They have enjoyed many cafe breakfasts together and Jackson has never turned the offer of a breakfast or brunch down. Now, Jackson’s sport is MMA (Mixed Martial Arts) Val me...