I first met my children the day they were born. The moment they were born to be exact. The relationship and feeling I have for all 3 was created at that time and has not been changed. They in turn have not changed and have stayed the same. The character and personality that was revealed that day has stayed in place.

All three children were planned. All were anticipated with love. No gender was known in advance. All three births were different experiences. There were absolutely no similarities.

The first was the most physically demanding. The labour was about 5 hours but seemed to be difficult. Lots of pain and not much movement. Drugs were administered but did not work. I had announced at least 1 hour before birth that I could see its head – and indeed I could see a head with hair. After a lot of further exhausting painful effort the Doctor finally held up the forceps in a threatening manner and this did the trick. The forceps looked both medieval and veterinary and did look frightening. They did the trick and Tom was extruded shortly after without the help of the forceps. But Tom was born drugged and asleep. As soon as he came out he was whisked away to a corner in the room and tubes were inserted in his mouth and throat. After a short time however we could hear him breathing if only like a dentists suction tube. This was a relief. Normal breathing was soon resumed. The Doctor checked him over before he commenced the tiresome duty of sewing Jenny up. After Jenny was sewn up Tom was handed to us. He still had his eyes closed. We both held him close to our faces. He opened his eyes. Looking straight at us. Seemingly in recognition. HELLO. Hello we both said in unison.

Jenny asked for a cup of tea – the first she had had in 8 months. She had gone off tea while pregnant. Tom still looks at us in the same recognising way.

The next birth was on a Saturday morning. Jenny had feelings she wasn't sure of so she phoned the hospital they said to come in. There was no urgency. No hurry. However the moment we walked into the ward area she had a massive contraction and we were shown into the birthing room. We were welcomed by what appeared to be a 19 year old girl. What had happened on the previous Wednesday was that Jenny’s Doctor had been killed in a car accident. We had not been told anything apart that he was dead. I did not exactly ask if the girl was here on work study or what school she went to but she could see my concern and she laughingly explained that she was a Doctor – the Hospital Registrar and she was here to supervise the birth.

And she was wonderful. She took charge straight away. Jenny went into deep contractions close together and The Doctor announced that the birth was imminent. She just had to break the waters. Which she did and indeed the waters came gushing out like a fountain. She then told Jenny to stop pushing as he was coming too quickly. She said she wanted to get the head right. She inserted her hand into Jenny and held James down while keeping Jenny calm. She then said OK push and James immediately came out. He almost shot out. It was like he was coming out of underwater. As he came out he put his hands in the air as if to cheer that he had made it out. He started crying immediately. He was placed on Jenny’s chest while the umbilical chord was cut and he immediately tried to suck. He had dark hair. Lots of it. He was happy to be alive.

The third came slowly but surely. Were they contractions she was having? Should we go to the hospital or should we wait. We went to the Hospital and waited there. Jenny said it felt different. It must be a girl. It wasn't a big thing. We did not mind.

Suddenly things sped up. Jenny said she felt she was not prepared. And there was no Doctor there. He was away on an urgent case. There were two midwives and they reassured her that all was well and they would handle it. And they did. Their technique was to urge breathing deeply with every contraction. Jenny tried but requested gas and took it in hungrily. They reassured her that everything was OK. The baby was pointing the right way. They had their listening devices and they could tell the baby was not stressed. Their listening devices looked over 100 years old but they knew what they were doing. They appeared to be made out of Bakelite. They kept placing them on Jenny’s stomach and listening on the other end. Everything was OK. Just keep breathing and don't do any pushing as yet. Jenny said that she could not help pushing. She was worried she might want to go to the toilet. Not possible said the midwives. Don t worry about it. Just don't push. Jenny said she couldn't not push. "OK, Push" they said. She pushed with relief. And Alexander was born shortly after without too much trouble. He came out like he was still in the foetal position. The first thing I saw was his testicles. There was no mistaking him for a girl. I told Jenny and she was pleased. Another boy. Alex cried for a short while but then seemed to relax and went to sleep lying on Jenny’s chest.


Neville Gibb
September 2018

It is a universal truth that all happy families are alike in their happiness. All unhappy families are different. Happy families often have family rituals. Unhappy families do not.

The family of my childhood was both dysfunctional and unhappy. But both parents had an individual ritual they religiously kept. This could be classed as a family ritual because they both expected us children to partake in this family ritual. They both enjoyed milking cows. They both could lose themselves in the daily silent ritual of milking cows twice a day. There is a lot of repetition in milking cows. There is a lot of silence in milking cows. It is mostly a solitary pursuit. It promotes reflection. Both my parents immersed themselves in the ritual. Neither liked being away from home – my mother especially. Holidays were extremely rare. My mother hated being a woman – she often said this - as her life was not as good as it could have been if she was a man. She wanted to do manly things like driving tractors and milking cows. She was pleased to own a dairy farm. Owning a dairy farm meant that she was able to do most of what she wanted but of course she was expected to do a certain amount of housework which she resented. If she didn't have to do anything in the house – her words - she would have been happy. If she could have – her words – always worked out in the paddocks she would have been happy.

Both parents thought that hard work was good for children. All children were expected to do whatever work was required. There was no stopping until work was finished. This was definitely a family ritual.

It is fair to say that my mother was an unhappy person and this meant that the family was unhappy. My father was a patient man who liked a peaceful existence and always seemed to stand in the background. But he liked the ritualistic and solitary life of a dairy farmer.

They had both come from underprivileged backgrounds and had found themselves suddenly in the position of being able to purchase a viable dairy farm. This was a big step up for both of them. It was fulfilling a dream that both thought could never be realised. So neither was going to anything that would risk them losing the farm. They realised and respected their good fortune.

Growing up in an unhappy family leads you to assume that you will invariably have an unhappy family if indeed you have a family when you grow up.

In my own family we tried to institute family rituals. Timetables for doing homework. Eating at set times. Always playing classical music when traveling in the car.

Mostly these rituals failed to have an impact. Although we did try.

Of course I always had my own personal ritual of going to the football each week. I found this ritual relaxing. A solitary exercise into which I could escape in silence. Something that promoted reflection.

I slowly included my children into this ritual although we did have difficulties from time to time. In time as they grew up we enjoyed going to the football together. Still do.

My own particular family ritual was that I took our children to their first day at school. I cannot recall how this ritual eventuated. Maybe because my wife taught at the school that our children attended. Perhaps she had already worded them up as to how to act on the first day. Whatever it was a family ritual that I took our children to school on their first day.

This was always a bitter sweet experience. This was something I did not want to happen. I knew that time was passing and I could not stop it. I knew that once I handed my child over to the school that a part of them was gone forever. Of course I wanted all my children to stay young forever. I wanted time to stay still. I hated what was happening. I hated waving goodbye to each of them. But I did it.

As I progressed from child to child they became more mature. The first child was brave. The second child was more sure. The third child knew what needed to happen.

I remember every moment. My family ritual.


Neville Gibb
​June 2018

​If only I’d let events take their course what would have happened? Would history have turned out different?
​
There have been times when I intervened in events and therefore may have changed the course of history. I knew when I was doing it I could have been stopping big things but I still did it. I did not take the chance and let things happen naturally. Sometimes I regret it.
 
Once I took two of my children and two of their friends to the football at Waverly. I had my set likes and dislikes and I liked going to the football every week. I thought it would be a good idea to take my children and introduce them to the game. Hopefully they would enjoy it. I started taking them when they were quite young. My children were mostly well behaved but they tended to get bored easily. When he was young Tom especially liked to go for walks during the game. He was more interested in the crowd than the game. I tried to keep an eye on him by making him made him wear his white bike helmet so I could see him walking in the distance. I believed this made it possible to keep an eye on him more or less and because he was wearing a bike helmet he might have been assessed as less of a target. But once I lost concentration and he was gone for more than a whole quarter. He turned up halfway through the next quarter pleased as punch at what he had done and the adventures he had had. I was extremely relieved. I kept a closer hold on him after this.
 
I guess my children must have discussed going to the football with their friends because in time I got requests asking if others could come also. I was reluctant to do this as I know my personality is not suited to controlling other people. Children do not like me telling them what to do. But in time as the children got older I could hardly refuse.
 
When Tom was 12 I agreed to take his friend Chris. Tom and Chris were both 12. The other 2 children in the group were only 7 but looked up to Chris. I found Chris a handful. He was a real leader of children. They would follow him anywhere. I already knew Chris was a bit of an expert at getting under people’s skin but I thought I would be nice. Before we even got to the ground he had caught James’ hand in the car door. It is a fact that Chris was hard to control. I did not feel in control of anything during the game. After the game even less. It was Chris’s idea to run onto the ground just as the siren went and of course all the children followed him. Just after I had corralled them in the centre of the ground it was Chris’s idea to follow the players into their rooms and of course all the children ran after him. They could all run faster than me. I finally caught up with them in a dimly lit room at the end of a long corridor. Brisbane had lost so there were not many people trying to gain admittance into the inner sanctum. The 20 or so waiting people were being held in the bottom corner of this room. The man on the inner sanctum door was at least 10 metres away. Suddenly he pointed at us and made a gesture that one child could come and he pointed to James. Of course Chris started running towards the door but the man made it plain that Chris was not going to be let in but only James could be admitted. No - not you he said – him – and pointed to James. Chris kept going but the man blocked him and sent him back and again emphatically pointed to 7 year old James.
​
Life is full of big questions in hindsight. What if I’d done this or that differently? What if I’d thought more about what I was doing before I did it? Of course we can never know. Maybe nothing would be different. Maybe our fate is entirely set in stone and nothing can change it. But we can certainly have regrets.
 
James started to walk to the door to the inner sanctum. I was placed in a conundrum. What would happen when he went through? When would I get him back? Could I keep the other 3 under control while James was inside?
 
Of course I knew what was in the inner sanctum. I had been there. I had experienced the heady atmosphere and the sense of privilege of being there at much the same age as James. Once to everyone’s amazement my father had suddenly taken me without any permission from my mother into the player’s room of a team that the Great Bobby Rose coached. He just left my mother and my younger brother standing in the concourse and said to her we would be back in a minute. A short word to the doorman and we were inside. How did he do this? What gave my father this mysterious power? I only found out much later although my father never said. The fact was both my father and Bobby Rose were brother Masons. Yes Bobby Rose was a member of the Masonic Brethren and he must have told my father the magic words to effect entry. I have to admit I was wide eyed. Amazed. The pure excitement at being in the great man’s presence in these circumstances was to be experienced and I have never forgotten it. Bobby Rose welcomed my father and made a fuss of him. I could hardly believe what was happening. We did not stay for more than maybe 5 minutes and while it was too long for my mother he placated her by saying he could not disappoint Bobby. My father was an enthusiastic Mason and would have gone to Lodge 5 nights a week if my mother had let him.
 
What was I to do about my conundrum? James had started on the 10 or 15 steps he had to take before the door opened and he would be admitted. Should I allow James this experience of a life time? I had 10 seconds to decide. But I was always a selfish person. And I did not want to take the chance of some disaster happening with Chris who was already abusing the doorman for not letting him in. It wasn’t abuse under his breath either – it was personal. So I called James back and like the obedient dear fellow he was he walked back and by doing so missed the experience of a lifetime. I knew what I was doing and I regretted my actions even then.  I immediately put my hand on Chris shoulder and said we were leaving and he had better behave himself. I didn’t let go of him until were at the car.
 
For myself I am full of regrets. None of which I like to recall but which play on a loop inside my memory. I regret so much in my life. I have done things that were plain stupid. And some have had long lasting results. Some were never foreseen but mostly I could have done lots of things better. Why did I call my wonderful son back? Pure selfishness really. Did I change his life? Who Knows?
 
 
Neville Gibb
September 2017

​I was there the day the world changed.
 
Because there once was a day when the world changed. This day actually occurred. It really did.
 
We live in a world that appears to be fixed. And in most ways it is. Our world does not often change and sometimes no matter how much we want it to change it never does. In many ways we don’t want the world to change and go to great lengths to prevent change. If you go through life expecting that the world will never change when the momentous change occurs it is hard to know what to make of it.
 
In my case the world did change and would never be the same again.  I found it both exhilarating and a letdown. Pleasing and disappointing. Both traumatic and healing. Soothing and disquieting. All of these and more.
 
The day itself was almost perfect weather wise. The first week in October. Not a cloud in the sky. A cool fine day. There was a slight breeze. If you stood still you could feel the cool breeze across your face. I have always found this pleasurable and remember it to this day. I am reminded always when I experience this sensation.
 
Tom and I left home early. I was fulfilling a long held promise to him. It had been touch and go whether I could keep my promise to Tom but after a lot of stress and effort I was able to arrange it.
 
We took the normal route to our destination and had no traffic problems. Neither of us are superstitious so we did not see this as portentous. But in hindsight you could read something into it.
 
On arrival I fulfilled another long held promise in that I allowed Tom to buy a magazine that I had always denied him previously because I considered its purchase a waste of money. But I was pleased to see him read the magazine and get a lot of enjoyment from doing this. I had never seen my son take so much interest and concentration as he did in carefully reading every word in this magazine. We sometimes get pleasure in ways we never expect and I remember the pleasure I experienced in watching him added to the enjoyment of the day. He was seven years old and just learning the joys of reading.
 
We had to wait a long time for the ceremonies to begin. But we waited patiently. Finally proceedings started.
 
The world actually changed over the course of the next two and a half hours.  This sounds trite but at the end of proceedings the world had changed forever.
 
The actual event still seems like a dream. And like all dreams I only remember fragments. Some things have been indelibly imprinted on my brain and others have been wiped forever from my memory. I remember small unimportant things and I do not remember other things that have later been deemed important.  In reality I only have vague memories of most of the day. I have no sense that two and a half momentous hours passed. I cannot remember either Tom or myself uttering a sound. Certainly neither of us can remember any involvement or reaction to what was happening. That is until the end. Towards the end I wanted the last 5 minutes to go on forever but of course it went in seconds.
 
I did not dare make a sound until the actual end. Then I made myself known to everyone. Or tried to.
 
The world had changed. I was there when it happened.
 
Neville Gibb
May 2017