Happy anniversary baby, got you on my mind (Little River Band)

Happy birthday Dulcie! (Photo credit: Graham Purdy)

Wie geht's?

Quite a few April anniversaries happen that need some commentary. 

There are plenty of happy occasions to celebrate. We've had my parents wedding anniversary (on the 18th in 1953), Jacky and my wedding anniversary (on the 21st in 1984), and mum's birthday (on the 23rd in 1930).

There are also two losses of life anniversaries in April: Lucy Adsett, a.k.a Ma (on the 3rd in 1974) and our dear friend - Margo Buchanan-Oliver (on the 25th in 2018).

I know these are just names and dates to the blogosphere, and that a lot of others celebrate their own anniversaries as they come up but clearly without Lucy and her daughter Dulcie Adsett and then her wedding to the strapping young pharmacist Graham Purdy, you would not be reading this, because I would not exist.

That's a huge debt of gratitude I owe all three.

That Earth-shattering event in 1984 also means that our four children exist and consequently, our four grandchildren also exist. So, I think you'll agree, that one is worth a massive celebration as well.

Love and peace - WNP

Take the world in a love embrace, fire all of your guns at once, and explode into space (Steppenwolf)

April 21 1984 L-R Margo, Chris, Clay

Wie geht's?

While discussing Diana Wichtel in the previous post, I mentioned Margo Buchanan-Oliver and how she deserves a post.

Margo was an exceptional person, and a huge influence on me as a person. Exceptional, as in extraordinary, unequalled.

When I look around our house I see reminders of her (and her partner Clay)  and indications of her influence on our aesthetics are everywhere; including pictures, vases, books, furniture. Even our lack of clutter aesthetic. My memories are chock a block with Margo moments.

I can trace many things back to Margo. I owe her a lot and I can never repay her.

Margo took her own life five years ago, on the 25th of April 2018.

I met her at a crucial, impressionable, time.

In 1979, my friends at Auckland University, who included buddies from school and the rec centre crew, all left at the end of their degrees, and while I stayed in touch as best I could, they were no longer day to day contacts as I started my Masters' degree in English.

So, in 1980, my friendship group expanded. I can't quite remember how I found Margo or how she found me. We must have crossed paths in a lecture or a tutorial. Maybe it was mutual friend Chris Loud who introduced us? 

I was doing my first year of my MA and my choice of courses was quite schizophrenic, being split between interests in 15th century drama, Chaucer, Shakespeare and 20th century poetry, drama and novels.

I do know that I quickly became close friends with her and her partner Clay Bodvin. 

Margo is, was, a fiercely brilliant, perceptive, intellectually curious, imposing genius, but she also had a huge heart. She cared deeply about her family and her friends. She was all class. 

She adopted me and I was extremely happy to be considered worthy of her time. She also cut through bullshit like nobody I've ever seen before or since.

Anyway, they were living in Blockhouse Bay and I was still at home in Mt Roskill South, so it wasn't a big deal to get in the mini and head over and hang out for discussions, meals, record sessions (I was also a huge fan of both rock music and medieval music - another bonding point).

After finishing our MAs I headed to New Plymouth and met Jacky (love at first sight on my part), while Margo continued with her PhD studies. 

We remained in touch from then on throughout the eighties: Margo was  MC at our wedding, Clay was my best man; they are Godparents to Keegan. From the nineties onwards it was a case of intermittent contact as either they or we moved around NZ and the world for various reasons.

Throughout all the years, her letters or cards would reach us wherever we were (she always began them with 'Wie geht's?' How are you?), or else we would make a point of visiting them at Huia Road or the university, where she was a leading light in the business faculty.

Yes, I miss her, as I really really miss all those who have passed from my life, but the continual reminders of her help and advice and her piercing questioning about my purpose in life will never fade.

Thank you Margo.

Warren

He waka eke noa (we are all in this together)

Photo by Shane Rounce on Unsplash

Wie geht's?

That simple German phrase (how are you?) is very apposite right now.

For some time now, I've been using it as a welcome on these posts in honour of my much missed friend - Margo Buchanan-Oliver. She always wrote that on letters/cards/emails - whatever - always opened with that phrase. Her first thought was to ask after others.

With Nu Zild on lock-down to prevent the spread of Covid-19, it seems even more important to be kind, to reach out to others - especially the loved and dear ones, but also strangers and even estranged family members, to consider the effects of our actions on others.

The human race is a selfish one generally, so this is a good wake up call, albeit one paid with a heavy price.

At my work (OneSchool Global, NZ) students, parents, teachers and support staff are now working from home, and the new arrangements have paradoxically brought us closer together.

For one thing I have a window into everyone's home via zoom😆

Social media platforms and the internet have been a godsend. Speaking personally, staying connected has never been as important as it is right now.

Love and peace and stay safe - Wozza

In the giving of my eyes to see your face (Yes)

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

Wie geht's?

Pome is a newsletter by Matthew Ogle. He simply sends out a poem a day by a random poet. That's it.

As I say, simple. But I'm finding myself eagerly looking forward to each day's random poem. 

This was a recent one that stuck:

Fiction If I get the story right, my mother's grief will melt back into sand— just enough for a shoreline the size of her driveway. We could hold our shoes by their heels without talking. In this version, I know the password to leaven the latch of fingers wrapped around aluminum. I hold a compact mirror up to her nose to see the fog of the living. If I get the story right, a fog will settle over the shore and there will be no other place to look but at each other. Keith Leonard (2016)

Yes, you need to read this one a few times. Yes, you need to invest a little effort. But its riches are eventually revealed. Or maybe it just gelled with my mood for the last week.

For me, poetry is a small window into the self. Because every reader sees something different in the images and references. And everyone's interpretation is right.

Mine is contingent on a few contextual facts. My mother passed away in 1983. It's still raw. One of my best friends passed away last week. It's still raw.

I love the title - Fiction. It's made up, open to interpretation, and one person's view. If I get the story right...uncertainty is always a factor. And there are always versions of truth in stories.

Mother's grief could be the actual grief of an actual mother grieving, or, as I saw it, it could be the grief associated with a mother's passing.

The ending, I love, because it is hopeful - breath becomes fog of the living and rather than grief it's looking into each other's eyes again.

Ah, a thing like that!

Love and peace. Me. Miss you mum. Miss you Margo.

Your love is making me strong (Eric Clapton)

Margo and Keegan

Wie geht's?

From time to time I use this blog as a way to explain my thoughts and confront my emotions. Sadly, this is one of those times.

This week, a close friend of mine died.

I met her at Auckland University in 1980, just as my school mates and undergraduate mates left varsity after their degrees and headed off to work. Distances start quickly. I needed new friendships.

Margo and I were both doing our masters degree in English. Being an intellectual giant, she  was whizzing through hers and about to start her PhD. I was just starting out in my extremely naive way.

A rebel, she'd married early after school (wearing black much to mother's horror which was the point), and had been out and about before returning to academic study. 

She was now with an American guy, an artist, a Vietnam Vet. Called Clay.

Holy holy. I latched onto them like a limpet and became a frequent visitor to their Blockhouse Bay flat.

We went to movies together, concerts, events, dinners at Chances R, plays, bookstores. We hung out - in the MA room on top of the English Department and at their flat. 

And we talked and analysed and discussed and I listened, absorbed, and my brain leaped! A lot!

We became close. So close that the American guy called Clay was standing beside me as my Best Man when I married Jacqueline Frances Smith in 1984. Margo was MC. Like everything she did - she was superb, accomplished, peerless. Just right.

When Keegan Warren Purdy came along, our choice for Godparents was clearly for Margo and Clay.

From then till now we stayed in touch as she went into advertising with Ogilvy and Mather (she was brilliant) and then back to Auckland University's as Head of the Adult Education Department/PhD programme (she was outstanding as a mentor).

Now she's gone from our lives.

Obviously, that news is devastating to take. 

She had that special touch - all of her network of fanatical supporters knew they had a special one on one relationship with her. When, really truly, that was reserved for Clay.

If you go back to those recent posts on the onion layers, you will understand that I feel, selfishly, as if the people who really really really know me has been reduced by one (it's a very short list to begin with).

Until we meet again, Margo, may God hold you in the palm of his hand.

Love - W

P.S. Wie geht's? is German. It means 'How are you?' Margo started all her letters and postcards to me with this greeting. Her first thought was for me (the reader). I'll be starting posts with this from now.

I'll always love you, I promise I'll always love you, 'cause I think the whole world of you and you can't change that, no, no (Raydio)

Tonight and forever (You may say I'm a dreamer - Chapter 6, part 3)

When the accident happened on April 20, 1984, the cassette in the car was playing songs from a Nambassa concert.

As our Chevette went through the Devon St., lights, I indicated to turn right into The Devon Lodge, our wedding reception venue for the next day, slowed to a stop and glanced into my rear vision mirror.

Margo Clay and Chris hang out

The next few seconds would play out in my head in slow motion as I watched the car behind me travelling fast, too fast, through the lights in the right side lane. Instinctively, I knew he was going to rear end me - my fear was that he'd push us into the on-coming traffic.

Nothing I could do but warn Jacky in the passenger seat, and brace for impact.

Which came.

Bride of the century

Our heads snapped forward and mine hit the shade vizor in front of me, leaving a few cuts and bruises; Jacky had some whiplash. Luckily we only moved forward a few metres and avoided the cars coming towards us.

In a numb shock, we all waited on the curb for the police to show up to get statements. Someone must have contacted the police - I don't remember.

It may sound silly, but we'd been lucky. Our car was severely damaged though (insurance would fix it eventually by joining a whole back section to the car) and we were due to go on honeymoon in two days time. Ah well, what are you gunna do? 

During April 21, 1984 Jacky was getting ready in Lorna Street while I was having Margo apply makeup to my cuts and getting dressed at the Devon Lodge (while Singing In The Rain played on the TV in Margo and Clay's room).

Soon enough it was time to head to St Joseph's Catholic Church for the wedding of the century! Of which I loved every minute!

When doing our vows, we both faced the congregation of friends and family - that was a nice touch. 

The Purdys and Smiths

Dad and Ross were there, Margo and Clay (my best man), Greg and Wendy, Phyllis, Roger and Deirdre, Patrick, Chris, Michelle and her first husband, Warwick, Mervyn and Catherine...and a whole load of people I didn't know (friends of Brian and Sallie's I guess - he paid for the reception so that was fine with us).

GNP with Alison, Mabelle

As luck would have it, rain and wind meant we needed studio shots rather than the normal ouside ones taken at weddings. This proved a blessing in disguise - the photos are great!! Lots of combinations of the Purdy and Smith axis, as well as Margo, Clay, Chris were possible.

Greg, Wendy, Phyllis at a table with Terry Heaps and the Ryders

The reception was back at the Devon Lodge and I loved that too. The traditional speeches went well - Clay and I spoke. During the night we all danced and had a great time. 

Patrick and his possie, including Lindsay Loveridge

Thanks to Sallie lending us her Honda Prelude, our honeymoon was spent in Wanganui and Wellington, places I'd never been to. The Sharella was relatively new and right opposite the botanic gardens - a great location for walking and exploring Wellington.

During our stay we were abruptly woken at 1.00am with a shrill fire alarm sounding in the room. The flashing words 'Panic Panic Panic' were sent from my brain to nerve endings throughout my entire body. Jacky, bless her, was a picture of calm and poise as she ushered me from the room, down the fire escape to the car park in the drizzly rain. Whatever had happened was dealt with and we returned to our honeymoon.

Days were spent shopping (Unity Books!!), and visiting touristy spots like the gardens and museums and the zoo.

I had a blast!

Love and peace - Wozza

Pushing the barriers, planting seeds (John Lennon)

The power and the glory (You may say I'm a dreamer - Chapter 4, part 2)

Hair update - the fringe years were over, although
the George Harrison 1968 fetish was alive and well.

Master of Arts (1980-81)
First I had to do battle to stay the course. The teaching studentship people argued against me enrolling in the master's programme - they wanted me at Teachers' College in 1980.

Politely, I declined to acquiese to their request. They blinked first.

At the start of 1982 I was capped MA (Hons) in front of my family, my friends, my peers. Finally, the dream had come true.

Film festival tickets 1981: good
times, good times!

The previous two, utterly self indulgent, academically stimulating years, had been amazing. 

Retrace the route with me as I take the bus along Dominion Road or drive to the gully car park in my mini, go to the movies, go to lectures and tutorials, browse the record and book shops, work for hours on my own in the library, meet friends at the coffee shop or in Albert Park, see plays with friends, and all the while totally engross myself in my studies: 2oth century drama, 15th century drama, Chaucer, 2oth century poetry, the novel, and language papers. 

Student life was very heaven.

The result - second class, first part honours was beyond what I had hoped for ten years before.

MA students perform - Wozza left, Margo second right.

Relationships were becoming more intense as well. Up to this point, girl friends had been just that - friends who were girls.

Coralie Bines was my first date back at MAGS. Mike Budd played middle man and introduced me to her. We went to the school ball and she was still on the scene when I had my 21st dinner party at the White Heron Lodge (Purdy's are pretty classy). Coralie was (and, I bet, still is) lovely but we were just friends.

Phylis Omand was a friend of Greg's and we went out a few times (me and Phyllis that is, not Greg; he was busy with Wendy I suspect). Again though, we were just friends. Soon enough she'd moved on to Anthony Harris.

Friends from my courses, who were girls, went with me to movies, the theatre and lunches but nothing serious was ever on the agenda.

When 1980 rolled around, I meet fellow MA student, Dallas Smith. She was a thing apart, a different prospect, and certainly didn't fit the model of my previous female friends. Intense, moody, artistic, she was a crazy mixed up kid if ever there was one. Fair warning - she told me she was trouble and she was right.

Dallas collage 1981

Of course, it didn't last. She deceived me and I was crushed. So it goes.

Christine and Chris kirkham 1981

Another relationship, began at the same time, has definitely endured. I would have loved an older sister in my house growing up. Christine was away in England getting on with married life to Chris Kirkham, and email was a way off yet. I loved her letters, cards and cassette tapes but she wasn't as easily accessible as she is now.

Margo Buchanan-Oliver was also a fellow master's student, but in a different league to the rest of us! A curious mix of English refinement, social rebel, academic genius, tough business woman, tender and loving feminist - Margo is one dynamic package. 

She'd been married and had gap years in business before deciding on further study, with first the masters degree, then her PhD. Quickly, she became a big sister.

Clay, Margo with Mr and Mrs Purdy

But wait, there's more: Clay Bodvin was and is Margo's partner: an American Vietnam vet, artist, painter, gentleman, visionary, big brother substitute.

What a perfect twofer package! As friends they became a huge part of my life. When I got married, Clay was my best man, Margo - director of ceremony.

In 1980, I was 24 and yes, gasp, still pretty naive. Still living at home, but growing, incrementally, more independent. Academically I was definitely hitting my peak. Through their adoption of me (and kindred spirit, Chris Loud), Margo and Clay helped introduce new worlds - arcane worlds of possibilities and intellectual argument. They can cut through bullshit in a nano second and I love them dearly. 

Chris Loud

It was the most stimulating time of my life. The windows were thrown open, the doors of perception were hinging off their hinges.

I was immersed in great literature: The Romance of the Rose; Chaucer; Robert Bly: Robert Creeley; Moby Dick; Huckleberry Finn; Wordsworth; Coleridge; Shelley; Allen Ginsberg; Ferlinghetti; the Wakefield pageants; medieval lyrics; Pynchon; Titus Groan; Easy Rider; Star Wars; Ionesco; Beckett...

Great people influenced my thinking: Wystan Curnow; Stephanie Hollis; Roger Horrocks. They turned me inside out. As I progressed through those five years I kept an eye out for their courses. I was there!

Wystan and Roger formed a dynamic duo on poetry, film, Americana and art. Thanks to them I was turned on to artists like John Coltrane, Patti Smith, Charlie Parker, Dylan. A previously untapped world of poetry and film as art and expression. It's a debt I can never repay.

Peter Dane made Wordsworth's words, images, and experiences from The Prelude come alive and breathe for me. I can still hear his voice when I read from it.

Stephanie opened my eyes to Chaucer. After one lecture one night, I walked through Albert Park in a heightened state of mindfulness - I saw leaves on trees, bark, the filtered light - everything, it seemed to me, for the very first time. I felt transformed!

By becoming so immersed in what they taught, these people provided models that I could learn from; they provided priceless experiences to sustain me for the rest of my life. Is there any greater gift?

Sadly, as 1983 dawned, the five self indulgent years devoted to study and a search for self had to eventually come to an end. It was time to move on. 

It was time to learn a trade.

Love and peace - Wozza 

Old friends, memory brushes the same years (Simon and Garfunkel)

Time it was, and what a time it was, it was...a time of innocence, a time of confidences.
Long ago...it must be...I have a photograph.
Preserve your memories; they're all that's left you.

More from 21st April 1984:

Patrick, SWMBO and Lyndsey

With Clay (best man), Margo
(MC) and Chris Loud

Patrick and Jacky's friends

The Knowles 2 sitting left with other friends

The Marbecks 2 standing back right

Love and peace - Wozza

With the strength of a new day dawning and the beautiful sun (Uriah Heep)

A catch up post for y'all this time out. I get way out of routine when I'm travelling. This one comes to you live from the A.R.T. Room (Abbey Road Two).

We are back in Otane at the old homestead (a.k.a. Red Phoenix Farm, also called Southfork by Jan of Al Ain) at present.

The place is parched at present. The grass has all been burnt off by the baking sun with no real prospect of rain anytime soon. By comparison, my weather guide on the computer tells me it's 4 degrees and raining in Wuxi today. Funny old world innit?

Loads has been happening recently: we were on Waiheke until this week while SWMBO had her MRI (results yesterday were fantastic and such a relief after a long period of agonising) where we spent time with Keegan and Margo/Clayto; flew to Napier on Monday and went to see Jade (and Tango) in Palmerston North yesterday. 

A new day dawning (who'd a thought Uriah Heep would provide the very appropriate post title - from July Morning if you were wondering - you know you were).

We have a visit to Taranaki lined up for the near future as we await instructions about a return to Wuxi (we had a one way way ticket home as there is a suggestion there may be changes afoot in Wuxi). All a tad unsettling but we are enjoying the beautiful sun and heat in Nu Zild while we can.

Love and peace - Wozza

P.S. My pictures are still not loading so I'll have to resort to Facebook again.

Oye coma va mi ritmo (Santana)

The catch ups with old friends continue.

My friendship with Margo and Clay goes back 32 years when I met the phenomenally talented duo at Auckland University. Margo was finishing off her masters degree while I was starting mine. She then started her PhD. Meeting and befriending Margo led to meeting and befriending her partner Clay.

The planets came into alignment, celestial choirs swooned, a bright spotlight hit me (think The Blues Brothers scene in the church) and Also Sprack Zarathustra boomed out of the cosmos.

I'm not sure if I adopted them, or they adopted me. As a teenager I loved American culture and having Clay (from Seattle) and Margo as enthusiastic experts on all things cultural was immense for me at a crucial time. We found that we shared a love for certain types of music and in our discussions they educated me into new worlds of art and culture and new ways of thinking. 

We became really close friends as our friendship developed. When I married SWMBO in 1984 Clay was my best man and Margo the MC. When Keegan was born they became his godparents.

That's close!

We've always kept in contact, but, because of our years living overseas (UK 2004 to 2006; Middle East 2009 to 2012) and in Stratford (2007-2009), we haven't actually seen each other for about 10 years.

It was great to meet again at Auckland University's Business School with Keegan, Jade and SWMBO also in attendance.

Love and peace - Wozza