English as she is spoke (or not!)

My father gained an education totally through his own efforts. His mother had never (to the best of my knowledge) worked. His father died when he was 2 and his older siblings were placed in a children's home. Life was hard for him but he grabbed at education and used it as a lifeline. He loved reading and introduced me to Charles Dickens at the age of 7.  He encouraged me to have a vast vocabulary. We would vie to find new words every day. Of course he always won! We listened (no TV then!) to programs that challenged the use of English. One of our favourites was "My Word". The talents of Frank Muir and Denis Nordon are legendary. We loved playing with words – puns and double entendre being firm favourites.

He hated it when people used swearing as an adjective. He maintained that swearing was a sign of a poor command of the English language. I shudder to think what he would say to the "new" means of communication. Being an ex-teacher I have many young people as Facebook friends. I am amused by some of the abbreviations and emoticons that are used but things are getting out of hand now. The following are sections of posts from these kids!

"dna weda to luv it coz …"  

"u knw y im …   "

"ncooh u guys luk …"

What on earth…? Look guys I love you but I would really like to understand what you are saying! We taught (tut?) you (u?) English (nglsh?) at school (skul?) please use it! It IS a beautiful language!

Okay so that is not the worst of it. I am now working for my publisher and now and then I have to type stories that children have written. Sometimes I wonder if I strayed into a foreign language. Once I nearly considered going for medical help as I had heard it was a symptom of a stroke if you couldn't understand what you were reading! Fortunately wiser counsels prevailed and I realised it is just the new "speak".

I know that English is an evolving language but I really don't like where it's headed!

The DASH revisited

At that moment of conception your life starts to map out. The absolute second fertilisation takes place cells develop at a frightening pace. In those first few minutes and hours there is the propensity for all sorts of horrific things happening and yet at the moment of the miracle of birth there are surprisingly few abnormalities. Most of the abnormalities of our features, bodies and soul are the result of what we (or others) choose to do with our life. We are the masters of our universe. What happens to us is based on decisions that we make in life.

To a certain extent I am a fatalist as I believe that date of our death is as set as the date of our birth. What is important is what we do with the DASH between the two.

So our DASH starts the second we take our first breath. We might need some help with this but that's what the medical team is there for. And the DASH ends as our last breath leaves our body. We might have been helped to achieve this last breath or it might be natural. We come into the world surrounded by people, mom is definitely there and hopefully dad is too. Some medical people will also be there – the number depending on the simplicity or complexity of your birth. Unfortunately too frequently our DASH ends alone. Not many people have the blessing of leaving in the company of family and friends. None of this matters, none of this is going to change the outcome. The only thing you have control over is your DASH.

It doesn't matter if you are a Red Indian, a Hare Krishna, a Roman Catholic, an agnostic. None of this matters in the big picture – your DASH is going to end. Your belief promises you certain things after death but whatever happens after death is not all that important. What you have done with your DASH is more important than anything else.

You have been a ruthless manipulator of people – that is your DASH and the people around you will either hate you or be scared of you. If this is what you want for your DASH great! It's not what I want.

So what do I want?

I am a human and as such I have done things I am proud of and I have done things that shame me but as long as the good outweighs the bad, I reckon I have lived a good life.

I did not have a great marriage but I did something right – I had three great kids. One was taken away too early for us – her family – but she was taken away at the correct time for her DASH. I cannot question the author of our existence. During her DASH she lived life to the fullest, she had a great sense of humour, she drew people to her, she was beautiful inside and out.

My other two children are doing such a great job of their DASH as are their wonderful spouses and children. I am proud of them.

So back to my DASH. I was headstrong and made some bad choices. I could have been a draughtswoman or architect with my imagination and Mathematical ability but I chose teaching. If we put the relative earnings in the scales of justice – my choice was wrong. A teacher is never rich. Oops sorry! Wrong wording! A teacher is rich. I look at the lives I have touched in a positive way – no amount of money could give me the rewards that I achieve almost daily on FB. My ex-pupils are now my friends and we share all manner of things – all of this makes my DASH very rich. As a teacher I have recently received a very high accolade. I met up with one of my most disgusting pupils of a few years back. This boy made my life miserable – I hated having him in my class and he seemed to taint the entire class. He approached me one day last year and very politely asked me if he could say something.

I swallowed the obvious comment and said "Fine."

He bowed his head and said "I am so sorry for my behaviour when you were at the school."

I said "Fine – it was that sort of behaviour that drove me out of a profession I loved."

"I realise now," he said, "that I lost a great opportunity to learn from your experience."

THAT was one of the highest accolades that that boy could give. I humbly thanked him and said "I hope it helps you to make better choices in the future."

To which he replied "Yes and I am sorry!"

I could almost see his DASH expanding in front of me and I think my DASH expanded as well.

We need people to help us achieve a good DASH. 

I am listening to Michael Buble as I write this. He is singing a fitting phrase to end this – my harangue on the DASH!

"Hold on to me tight we are stronger together than we could ever be alone."

Ode to a Special Angel

Dear Della

For some reason my love you have been pulled to my attention this week. It started with your birthday on Sunday (21 again!) A good friend of mine died on Tuesday and I am wondering if this is all to say you will help her settle.

When I was pregnant with you a good friend of mine, David Matheson, complimented me. He said he had never found pregnant ladies particularly good to look at but he said I glowed. I loved you from the first moment I realised I was pregnant. I knew you were a girl and I didn't have any names other than Della. (When I was pregnant with Brad, I knew he was a boy and had no other name for him. And when Leanne arrived both you and I compromised on a name – I put in Lee and you put in Anne – again no other name was found. We knew it was a girl. The only problem was that the name was spelt wrong on her birth certificate. It should have been Lianne.

I can remember travelling with you in the car when you were a tiny baby. In those days we put car seats on the front seat – not realising how dangerous it was. At the robot I would turn to you and your expression often humbled me. I seemed to see the wisdom of ages past shining out of your eyes. We really seemed to make a connection that transcended all understanding. I remember commenting on it with dad who did not seem surprised at it. You loved me to sing to you when I drove the car. You wept whenever I sang Rolf Harris's "Two little Boys". When Brad and Leanne arrived they also "enjoyed" that song – the crying erupting from the back seat was distracting!

You were such a lovely child – you were never jealous of Brad and Leanne. You seemed to have an understanding beyond your years. You loved music, books, dancing and singing. For some reason the Cat in the Hat disturbed you. I am not sure why. You kept on telling me that he came to the door one night and I had to check that he didn't come in and mess your room.

You also hated witches. You had a book that you refused to touch because there was a witch in it. You had nightmares about it. Finally I took the book (checked there was nothing on the otherside of the picture) and said "Should I tear it out?" That made you so happy. So I teared it out and gave the book back to you. You still would not take it. I finally went and got an ashtray and matches, crumpled the witch in the ashtray and set her alight. You watched with big eyes until there was only ash left. I had to throw the ash in the rubbish bin outside. (I'm just glad you didn't make me bury it!) Only then did you take the book. You couldn't talk properly yet but whenever you got to the missing page you sad "bad witch".

Another thing I remember about you is the scrap book of pictures that I made for you. One picture really upset you. You kept on saying "HOT, HOT." While I looked at you with no comprehension. You finally took me to the back door, made me open the door and help you down the first step. You then sat briefly on the step, jumped up and said "Hot!" The penny dropped. You were forever the actress! The back step got very hot in summer and you had tried to sit on it once and had got a bit burnt. The lady in the picture was sitting on what looked like a step. You must have though what a dumb mom you had!

You loved acting and won acting award after acting award. I donated a cup to Pinetown Girls High in your honour. David Randle loved using you in plays. I can remember the scream you made when the actress just could not do it. Even though you did not go to Brettonwood, your first guest appearance was as a scream. You loved coming to play practice with me. David enjoyed it because you always made coffee for everyone. You got on well with all the cast members and made yourself as useful as you could. Brad and Leanne often came to rehearsals as well but I don't think you missed a single one.

David couldn't wait to direct you in a play. When he moved to PBHS, he cast you in the lead. I have the video but am too scared to watch it. Maybe as a family we need to. 
You also helped Stephen Cloete with his magic shows. Cristen is working with him now. 

You were my rock when I was busy at competitions with Leanne. You helped with Brad and took matters in your own hands by phoning dad on several occasions. When I decided to study computers, I would make a meal in the slow cooker in the morning and at night, you would make sure that Brad, Leanne, your father and you ate and you would put aside some for me for when I got home. You would make sure that homework was done – so much pressure I put on you my love – I am sorry. I couldn't have done it without you.

Brad, Della, Leanne

My sole regret is that for the last 6 weeks of your life I hardly saw you. We chatted by phone but one of us would have to be with mom and the other would have to be at the house with Leanne. It was cruel that you followed dad 6 weeks later. Alf said it had to be. You worked together in the health shop and there was work to do that needed both of you.

Della and Leanne

Della and Brad

Myself, Denise and Della

I'm sorry I battle to say goodbye. I hope it is not restricting you but you were very precious. I frequently had the same nightmare when you were young and it continued into your teens. It only stopped on your death. I would wake up in a cold sweat. A plane had crashed at the bottom of our road. Leanne and Brad would run screaming to the house. You were caught under it. I think I was being prepared for your death – even the manner was a premonition – not a plane but a car. Love look down on us and help protect us until it is time to see you again.