The Answer is Blowing in the Wind....

A close young church friend was relaying an amusing anecdote to this white man yesterday that involved an elderly lady in a local supermarket. The senior citizen, who walked with the aid of a walking frame, suddenly exclaimed "excuse me" to my friend who was none the wiser as to why she should have excused herself to him. As he removed his iPod earphones she repeated her contrition, explaining quite matter-of-factly that she farted! Twice presumably, hence her double apology. At least she was aware of her 'misdemeanour' as many other elderly folks commit such indiscretions without any knowledge of their deeds! Anyway it reminded this white man of an equally amusing tale from the far away land of Burma. What transpired that evening remains indelibly etched into the memory of all who were witness to that highly humorous event.

Whilst travelling in Burma during July 1996 this white man linked up with a tour group of nine other travellers, mostly Australian plus a German couple and a Belgian magistrate who looked like he was more at home on a surfboard than in a courtroom! There were two middle-aged ladies from Melbourne travelling together and they particularly were the source of many funny moments on what was a relatively rugged tour. Burma, as a developing nation was still pretty primitive in terms of it's hospitality to foreign tourists so the tour never saw anything more than one-star (if that) accommodation. The two ladies struggled with this as they were seemingly pre-disposed to the finer things in life. One wonders what possessed them to even want to tour such a challenging country like Burma. Perhaps they were seeking a lovely soiree on the road to Mandalay at a colonial tea party with the British establishment! If so, then someone forgot to tell them that Burma has been independant for many years and the British colonials are well gone!

In any case, one night whilst staying in a small town on the outskirts of Mandalay, after eating dinner in a local restaurant, a local troupe of male entertainers turned up to demonstrate to us naive tourists the lovely art of traditional Burmese dancing. Dresssed in their traditional long skirts called longyis, the men whirled and twirled their wares as these two ladies seemed to enjoy the show more than the rest of us 'youngies'. Actually their mirth was also gin and tonic related! What happened next was priceless...In a moment of inspiration, the more posh of the two ladies decided that she would engage one of the male entertainers in a Toorak-version of a highly dubious shaky samba. She jumped up and began to 'do her thing' when the unimaginable happened...Obviously caught in a vulnerable moment she passed wind! It was not a muffled staccato-style excuse of a note but rather a mezzoforte grand blast of proudly escaped freedom! Now that was obviously hilarious, pants-wettingly so, but what was even funnier was the reaction of the poor local dancing villager! His face contorted with amazed incredulity, he dashed off the stage and nearly lost his long-skirt as he fled the scene of the crime! As for Ms Prim, from Proper St, Toorak, she was not sighted until dinner the next evening and even then her face appeared still flushed from the night before. So from thereafter she was rightfully dubbed 'the farting lady of Burma!'

Guess you had to be there...

Starbucked!

Interesting to hear that the worldwide coffee franchise juggernaut Starbucks is winding back it's operations in Australia. Too many stores too close to each other cannibalising each others businesses they say. Hard economic times mixed with too expensive a price for their beverage they add. This white man says fair enough but my gripe with Starbucks originated a long time ago when they first started to spring up everywhere taking the caffeine world by storm. I, being the overly indulgent coffee aficionado I am, found myself desiring to try the famed Starbucks latte grande and that's where the trouble began. Young student girl, calling herself a barista (the shame of it) takes the white mans order and then asks for his name. He's taken aback...he ordered a coffee, not a personal introduction! Flustered I blurt out my name and she proceeds to write it on the side of my soon-to-be-filled take-away cup. The white man feels uneasy about this but what can he do? The cash has passed hands, the damage has been done and now everyone in Starbucks Highpoint knows the white man's name! The coffee is ready and the girl yells out at the top of her voice COLIN! Latte grande for COLIN! Sheepishly I grab the coffee and leave but then am reminded that my name is plastered all over the place as I walk past people admiring the size of my latte. Of course, in big letters down the side of the cup is COLIN. Maybe it's just me but I don't really like the general population in shopping centres knowing my name because it's written on something that I'm wearing or, as in this case, holding. That latte didn't go down very well at all and incidently, the coffee itself was less than average in any case. But for my piece of mind I felt I had to rectify this wrong-doing so the following week I went back to Starbucks with a cunning plan. I ordered a small latte this time and sure enough they asked for my name again - told them my name was BUCK. She looks at me funny but writes it on there regardless. After that I walked around feeling better because people could only see BUCK on my Starbucks cup! Pretty lame I know but it made this white man feel empowered at the time! Oh, and the coffee was still rubbish!

So farewell Starbucks, well most of you anyway. And one parting word of advice - the day you guys can justify calling your vast crew of newbie students 'baristas' is the day McDonald's could conceivably call one of their teenage patty-pushers a chef! Give me a break....

The $onny Bill Williams Scenario

Much of the news of this moment is centred on the decision of rugby league superstar, Sonny Bill Williams to leave his club, the Canterbury Bulldogs and head off for France to chase bigger dollars in the game of rugby union. Of course that in itself is no big deal really but the crunch comes as we learn that Williams doesn't even intend to finish this year, the first year of a five year contract that was agreed on, signed, sealed and done last year. That deal, in itself was a deal in the millions of dollars. And so not only is he not honouring that contract, surely a breach of commercial law in some way, but he has also walked away from his team-mates and basically packed up his life in Australia - a breach not of law but of friendship and trust. Currently subpoenas have been issued by his league club that will seek to negate his ability to play for any other club until this awful mess is sorted out. What is certain is that this matter will be decided in the courts; that place where really only the wigged guys win.

All of this shambolic scenario only serves to remind this white man how increasingly rare a commodity loyality is in todays society. How has it come about that people today have been duped into accepting and believing a basic ethos that says 'money dictates all over and above anything else'? Has our world today become so monetarily possessed that we'd be willing to sell the most precious qualities we can have as decent homo sapiens on this planet? Well this white man believes that trading off loyalty, integrity and trust all for a few extra numbers in your bank account reaps far more consequence that what the extra zeroes are truly worth. It's often believed that in this mad, sports-loving, fanatical nation of Australia that football (be it Australian Rules, rugby league/union or soccer) reveals itself to be a microcosm of the greater dynamics of our communities. Or more simply, football is a form of barometer by which one can get a sense of how things are in greater society. Well if that is true then don't expect to see loyalty suddenly become an increasingly cherished value in your world. Rather, and depressingly I add, learn to live with the people around you who will sell out at the first available opportunity to get their hands on greater wealth. Them's the facts peoples...

But this white man will simply push forwards within the simplicity that he finds best to live by. And that's all you can do too - be an example, a light on a hill and remember what the good Word reminds us, that "the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil."

St Albans aka Hoonsville!

This white man remembers a quote once from a driving instructor at Jim Murcotts Driving Centre that went something like this - "the most dangerous thing people do everyday is drive and their cars are the most dangerous weapon they will ever possess..." Upon hearing this I initially thought quizzically about that statement and then upon further reflection I guess I concurred with the instructors opinion. However, I can now categorically state without any reservation that his statement is 100% fact! The reason for my steadfast conviction regarding the motor car as a potentially lethal weapon? I drive around St Albans...

What is it about young guys in souped-up, modified VN Commodores 'fast and furious-ing' it around the bad streets of the outer west? With their 'doof-doof' 'subbies' announcing to the world their ego-inflated presence do they really believe that they are laws unto themselves on our roads? Honestly, as I confirm frequently with many people, this white man genuinely fears driving home these days any time after 10-11PM down the Sunshine Ave 'speedway'. Any sign of a V8 hoon speeding around with his mates sends shivers up my spine. Too many young people have already died on Sunshine Ave - what does it take for these young 'heroes' to understand that their manhood doesn't correlate with their engine-size and speedometer? Just because the original Catholic Saint Alban is most famously remembered as a martyr doesn't mean all these young petrol-heads need to follow his example! But let's not fool ourselves - they are not martyrs, far from it...they're just bloody idiots!

Quotes about life...

Simply this morning, for your spiritual and intellectual rumination, a couple of quotes about life...

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life. It goes on." - Robert Frost

"One day your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure its worth watching!" - unknown

A World Within THE World!

Many people who spend time on their PC, especially those who use it as a social networking utility, frequent Facebook. And be of no doubt, Facebook is a world within the world. This white man spends his fair share of time within the cyber-world of Facebook and has enjoyed reuniting with many old friends from all spheres of life. Old primary school classmates, high school boys, various Salvos I grew up with in church, family members and current Vietnamese church buddies all dominate my list of friends in my Facebook. In this way Facebook is a blessing to me - a place of re-acquaintance with my past and present. But will it be the future? Will life as we, Facebookers, know it be confined to keyboard-typed relationships with our friends? Will we share our lives only via photo albums? How long will it be before people solely attend the first officially sanctioned Facebook church? Will this world within THE world totally become our world?

When thought of in this way Facebook assumes a darker tone. Perhaps, it will never become so consuming - probably it won't. But this I do know - even now this white man spends more time tending to the needs of his 'lil green patch' than he does in his real garden! Whilst his Facebook garden patch looks meticulously ordered with a perfect array of beautiful flowery and fruit-trees that would make any botanical society 'green' with envy, the real weeds growing outside his real garage slowly creep under his garage door and into his REAL LIFE! So maybe this thing called Facebook should be renamed Replace-book because it's slowly taking over our real life priorities and removing us from the real world. Food for thought... Think I'll go and find my gardening gloves!

How to get a headache in twenty minutes!

This white man doesn't usually suffer from headaches or migraines. Maybe because his brain capacity will not allow any kind of mental overload to afflict him cerebrally! Or maybe just because his level of dull-ness negates any pain in the brain...But there is one sure-fire way to do this white man's head in - get him volunteering on grade 1/2 school excusions! The recipe is simple, yet sinister: get 60-70 rabid seven year-old kids, put them on a bus, travel any distance over 500 meters, sit next to the lousest, shrillest, most blood-curding voice from the depths of Hades (that's Mrs G) and feel the pain!

Today my eldest son went to the Melbourne Zoo and this white man tagged along as the 'token' male accompanied by seven other mums. The job description given was simple and straight to the point - any boy needing to go to the toilet suddenly becomes your best friend and you make sure he does his business without incident. Fair enough...and it was all going fine until a group of ten or so boys simultaneously asked for their wee break. I accompanied them into the toilets but couldn't keep track of them all at once. Some uncontrollable boyish laughter then grabbed by attention - allegedly one of MacKellar's finest decided he'd do his wee in the paper towel waste basket. After some forced harsh words on my behalf, basically for effect really, we agreed that his secret was safe but one of the other boys turned squealer. The poor little fella then got chastised in front of his classmates by the aforementioned teacher, Ms Shrieking Larynx for urinating in an unacceptable manner! To top off that kids day, later on he got pooed on by a marauding peacock (ironically apt?!) chasing a free feed. Some days it's just not your day!

Anyway, despite the headache and the toilet antics, the real moral of this story really is to never knock back the opportunity of accompanying your child on an excursion! It's the best experience in the world and the laughs are amazing. I thank God that my life is flexible and free enough to be able to share in days like today with my son. Many dads cannot and I pity them for what they miss out on. Purely precious moments, even with a headache!

Renaissance of Tears...

Whilst never ascribing to the popular mythos that 'men don't cry' this white man has been genuinely surprised at how much salt water has leaked from his blue eyes over the past year. Not since some dark valleys travelled in the mid 90's have I found myself in tears so often. Of course tears have their place in the context of God, faith and church but it's the tears that have flowed outside in the everyday world that has given cause for this white man to wonder if he's turning into a drippy blancmange! For example, today whilst listening on the radio to parents who recently lost their 12 year-old son in tragic circumstances in a bike accident I quietly wept to the point of nearly having to pull over the car! Any story these days I see or hear in the media that involves children suffering brings me to the point of tears every time. Even movies seen more to stimulate my tear ducts like never before! Maybe it really is true what they say about getting older - that in most ways as you progress in years you regress into infancy. My hair is disappearing, I'm crying like a baby and...well...at least I'm not back in nappies yet!

It is said that tears are God's way of cleansing the human soul. This truth warms my heart! So not only do I embrace my tears as they fall from the windows of my soul but I know that my God collects them all (Ps 56:8). For those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. AMEN!

Drowning in a sea of lactic acid!

Part of this white man's weekly routine unswervingly involves three necessary visits to my personal torture chamber otherwise, mockingly I believe, named AV Leisure Centre. Trust me, there's nothing leisurely about beating down your body and making it your slave! But the gym workout is a necessary 'evil' that is not evil at all - it has increased this white man's health, productivity and overall quality of life. All the result of an inspired epiphany received last year that transformed an overweight, out-of-shape, unhealthy slob of a man into the work in progress he continues to be. An epiphany you ask? A word from the Lord? An angelic revelation? A random eeny-meeny-miney-mo opening of the Bible that flipped open at 1 Cor 9:27? An ab-blaster infomercial ad? No, none of those. Simply it was this - "hey Dad...your stomach's fat!" As they say "from the mouth of babes..."!

So nine months after first placing myself at the mercy of a team of red-shirted gym instructors I stand today 22 kg lighter but infinitely richer in my life. And as a result, this white man humbly proclaims that he is proud of himself! But the work goes on for there is no going back! I've grown accustom to the feel of lactic acid bathing my aching muscles and now going to gym is a routine, normal part of my weekly routine and lifestyle. To coin a cheesy phrase "it completes me..." If only I could kiss goodbye my persistent love-affair with pizza...

I need another epiphany!

Farewell? More Like Good Riddance!

Last night Australian television bid farewell to one of the most notoriously iconic shows in Australian small screen history - Big Brother. That is, of course providing that no other channel picks up this prolongued assault on the collective intelligence of viewers everywhere. Yes, you may well gather that this white man is shedding no tears today for the demise of BB and he is more than happy, overjoyed in fact, to advise BB 'not to let the studio door hit your posterior on the way out!' For this blight on our televisions has been responsible for more inane, loutish, lasciviously borish behaviour from nobodies than just about any other show of the 'reality TV' (as if BB is really reality?!) genre in recent memory. Now if that sounds prudish then please understand that this white man is far from being a prude. Entertaining humour is good when it is clever and engages your intellectual participation. Big Brother could never be accused of doing that! All I submit is that if BB was a tree then the rotten and unproductive fruit it bore far outweighed any good fruit that grew from it's branches. And after all, to quote the Word "you shall know them by their fruit..."

Big Brother - you were a bad apple in the fruit basket of our lives. Good riddance! Oh, and Granny Terri, BB's final 'winner', this white man hasn't forgotten you (as much as he'd like to). Go and join the QLD chapter of One Nation and categorically validate my argument! Yep...good riddance indeed!

My Ivory Tower?

This white man just recently noticed that his blog page design prominently features a tower-like structure on the top-left aspect of it's facade. Please pardon his obtuseness for not seeing this earlier. Nevertheless, it is intriguing that this white man's world blog should contain within it what appears to be an ivory tower. As it is often understood these days, one who lives in their ivory tower resides in a disconnected and, as usually perjoratively implied, a relatively useless place abounding in unsubstantial opinions detached from true reality. Now far be it for this white man to deny himself an occasional overnight stopover at "Hotel Ivory" but let us all pray that this would not become a fixed place of abode! For as my wise mother would often say to me in times past "if you don't have anything good or valuable to say then don't say anything!"

So for now silence is golden...even from an ivory tower!

Taking formality to a whole new level!

Frequently whilst traversing the borders of the yellow man's world, this white man has cause to deeply ponder upon his own state of relative whiteness. And again, over the past week he was reminded of how ivory he is when it comes to young committed Vietnamese Christian youth and the area of boy/girl relationships. In recent conversations with various youth it was brought to my attention that these young aspiring couples, prior to stamping their budding courtships as an OFFICIAL boyfriend and girlfriend reality, have been formally requesting parental and pastoral permission to do so. In other words, Harry doesn't feel comfortable to be Sally's boyfriend until he has formally asked her parents and his pastor for that privilege. Once that formal green light is given then, and only then, the relationship is go, go, go...

Now this white man admits that, at a first glance, the idea of such a level of neo-conservatism is slightly bemusing. After all, it's not like these young couples are taking the leap of faith down the matrimonial aisle. Not even close. We are talking about youthful boyfriend/girlfriend 'let's see what happens' scenarios. It prompts that three-lettered inquisitor to raise its curious head: W-H-Y? Because after all this white man can't recall ever taking such formal steps when his female suitors in his youthful days all took the stage and played the starring role as the girlfriend only to exit left of stage just as quickly?! I mean even when wedding bells loomed on the horizon no request was made of parents or pastors - it was more a process of notification! So what does this white man really make of all this seemingly superfluous renewed chivalrous formality?

Whilst my head says that such formality is over the top, my heart says that this brand of elevated courtesy is great! For it is both refreshing and heart-warming to know that, at least some young people today view and value the commitment of even a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship so highly. Highly enough to involve their parents and their pastor in the process. For deep down inside this parent would cherish the privilege of being consulted, when that future day comes, by his son(s) as to the potentiality of this or that girlfriend. And this pastor is similarly pleasantly humbled when his church youth approach him to discuss their potential relationships.

So to the young lady who asked me yesterday what I thought about her potential man-hunk and whether I thought their blossoming relationship was OK, I say this:- whilst my head, then mouth jokingly said "what are you asking me for, if you're gonna go out with him then just do it!", my heart was really saying "thank you!"

Pope-mania!

With interest this white man has been observing the lavish outpourings of adulation bestowed upon the current pontiff, Pope Benedict XVI during his current visit to Australia for the World Youth Day festivities. Not being Catholic, I often muse at the 'worship' of this one man who effectively holds one of the most powerful posts in the world, the papacy. And in some way it makes me glad that there isn't really one person within Protestantism that is ever treated with the level of reverence that Pope B16 is afforded. Of more interest to me was a recent conversation I had with a young Catholic man who had some interesting and, at least for him, relevant views regarding the current state of Catholicism in his world. He reflected that generally the Catholic church was bordering on the irrelevant to young people and was so caught up in it's own traditions and rituals that it risked being cast aside by the youth of today. Honestly his observations weren't a ground-shaking revelation to me. It is a fact that the traditional established church, Catholic and Protestant, in this nation is slowly dying and this shouldn't drop anyone's jaw at all!

And this brings me back to the current WYD event in Sydney. This white man can feel cynical about many facets of Catholicism today but he also acknowledges this...that at least for a week in God's time many Catholic youth are celebrating their church and this can ultimately only be a positive thing. For if one young (or old, or whoever) Catholic renews their commitment to all things God and church as a result of this festival then something good abounds. My real hope, however is that Catholic youth see beyond the old German man in the big white robe and look to the true source of our hope and adoration. And by the way - He's not still hangly limply and lifelessly on the cross! Look into the empty tomb my Catholic friends and gain your true inspiration for your faith! Yep, that's enough preaching for now white man...

The Dark Knight

Much has been said about this newly released cinematic blockbuster Batman: The Dark Knight. Most of the hype surrounding this latest installment in the comic book movie genre has focussed on one man's performance who seems to have single-handedly turned this multi-million dollar flick into his own requiem soliloquy. Of course I speak of Heath Ledger, the Australian actor who so chillingly portrays the ultimate arch-enemy of the caped crusader, the unhinged and unnerving Joker. As we also know Heath Ledger tragically died earlier this year as a result of an accidental overdose of prescribed medications. Now I would agree that, having just returned from watching The Dark Knight, Ledger's performance as the Joker was breathtakingly brilliant. Genius, in fact. And it deservedly warrants the accolades from fellow screen insiders that are screaming out for Ledger to be nominated for a post-humous Academy Award. And if he is honoured by receiving such an award then it would in some way be a fitting tribute to his masterful role in the movie. But let's not forget one thing in the midst of all the hysterical remembrance of Heath Ledger, aka the Joker...

Life itself seldom offers a second, much less a third take. And as fine a performance Heath Ledger has given for us to marvel at for snapshot in time let us not forget that it was and will be his last. For as much as the Joker is a metaphor for chaos in a world we try bravely and often vainly to control, the fact remains that Heath Ledger was no metaphor. He was a real breathing, hope and potential filled child of God who now lies on life's cutting floor. That is the real tragedy here. A father-less child will live in wonder of the father she never knew. A father and mother still grieve at having to perform that most unthinkable of acts - burying their child. And a partner will always wonder at what could have been...

If that's the legacy of one man who stands to be forever immortalised as 'Joker' that I'm not sure I see the funny side of it.

Sweet Look of Surprise!

We certainly know that we live in a society full of tightening fists, shrinking wallets and thirsty cars. Before I recently left for Sydney I could have sworn I heard my car cry out "woo-hooooo!" as it's fuel gauge arm climbed up and actually reached the F (full) for the first time in months. These are days of tightening belts, almost to the point of breaking our backs! Such are the times we now live in. So you could appreciate the look on one Vietnamese lady's face today when this white man casually strolled into the Australian Vietnamese Women's Welfare Association and announced that my church was opening the floodgates in our own effort to, to coin a phrase, 'make poverty history!' First, this white man announces himself as a pastor in the local Vietnamese church - stunned puzzled silence ensues...Then he proclaims the good news - the Vietnamese Evangelical Church of Melbourne is beginning, as of August, a Thursday evening soup kitchen meal program, open to all in Footscray in need of a good feed. The welfare lady, still trying to fit all the pieces together, takes our meal program brochure and slowly reads the information. Further amazement follows when I explain to her, in Vietnamese, that we will be serving "cháo" (the much loved Chinese-Vietnamese soupy rice porridge often called congee)! By the way I explain to her that our meal program is named AGAPE (the Greek word for God's perfect unconditional love). Interestingly her mouth confirmed the name not by words but by pose! At this point the white man's job is done and he leaves with a smile on his face and the lady still stands gobsmacked in wonder.

Part of her befuddlement is the apparent contradictory reality that this white man really is a pastor in a Vietnamese church. And he actually speaks a little Vietnamese! But I think the deeper astonishment is that even in today's climate of penny pinching and fiscal frugality, charity still does exist. More than that, it is not only the Vietnamese community groups who are doing their bit but, thank God, the Vietnamese church is now beginning to see the light and extend the hand of God into a community that desperately needs His touch. For even our humble fellowship is starting to realise that while we cannot do everything to help the needy, we can do something!
AMEN!

Footy in Footscray

This Saturday should be an interesting day. As a reverential act of homage to outgoing US pal Johnny Du, many of my fellow Viet church youth minions are having a farewell send-off for the Yank in a West Footscray lounge-room with a new plasma TV all there to watch the battle of the west: the Western Bulldogs versus Geelong Cats. Why should this be a day of intrigue? Because in all my days since my 'adoption' into all things Vietnamese I cannot recall a bunch of Melbourne church Viet youth ever being interested in an AFL game or Aussie Rules at all! Always too busy worrying about studying and getting top marks so their parents can vicariously enter university and live off the spoils and status of their offsprings law or medicine degree. Or too busy nerding it on their home worship altars, otherwise known as their PC, playing on-line games in ultra-competitive fantasy realms like WoW, CounterStrike and DotA. The occasional venture into the sporting arena might involve a table tennis competition or the Socceroos but AFL? Never! Well not until this Saturday in any case.

Isn't life ironic when it takes an American to rally together the Vietnamese youth of Melbourne church to watch and appreciate the great game of Australian Rules! Makes this Australian white man proud! Go Hawks (cough...cough...) Go Doggies!

And by the way...all the best to you Johnny Du! You've lightened up our lives over this year and helped us to realise that there are Americans worth befriending! Travel well, God bless and don't forget your Bulldogs beanie!

Welcome to This White Man's World!

Why? Because it seems that every other man and his dog vents their spleen, blows their trumpets or just finds verbosity in some way cathartic through blogs these days so why not I? So if you care (or dare) to peruse the varied, diverse and complex place that is this white man's world then good for you! Why name the blog 'This White Man's World' you ask? Because if you know me then you understand that the space I was pre-destined to occupy on God's green earth sees this white man actually living in a yellow man's world! And so it is only within the serene vacuum of cyberspace that I can re-discover and embrace my own 'white-ness' and rightfully bask in my own world for a bit. Don't worry - you'll get it as this blog develops. Enough said for now...enjoy and welcome to This White Man's World!