Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry

They lived in the house one north of our grandfather
there never was a grandmother
she died before she was
giving birth to our favourite uncle.
Without a nana or grandma
it was always just Grandad’s place
and the neighbours – The Bells – for decades.

A nearly suburb. No railway cottages or rentals.
Bay villas and big yards. No second stories or serving staff
tennis at the public courts.
People stayed then, putting down roots
transplanted only by death.

Merle, short for Merlin perhaps
children never pondered. To us he was Mr Bell.
Sociology as ancestor. Our parents spoke his given name
Mrs Bell was only ever that
belonging to a now extinct group
women severed from their first name by marriage.

Grandad was proud to live alongside an educated man – a teacher
after the war
the Korean conflict brought prosperity.
A big town grew to a small city
and the neighbour to principal of a brand new junior high.

The new school surfed the wave of baby boom fecundity
respect and enrolments grew
the principal became president of the local racing club
an honour
and chance to meet royalty and prime ministers.

New Zealand didn’t smoke or inhale in the swinging 60’s
the 50’s passed into the 70’s and Grandad from this world.
Clear sky lightning. An arrest
president of the racing club for theft of takings.
Time lapse crimes
a decade
probably longer
trust didn’t really know – perhaps from the very beginning.

Plea bargain denies schadenfreude of courtroom stocks
brief sensational
swaps sins for silence
I giggled like the schoolboy I was
at a teacher apprehended for misbehaviour.

Now I wonder
how did he feel
at PTA nights
at parent teacher evenings
at last warning summits.
And prize giving
handing out awards for application, diligence, and integrity.

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When questioned as to how history
would regard him
Winston Churchill replied
“very highly,
because I intend to write it.”

History : indelible and erasable.
Exact and imprecise
repentant and defiant.
Insecure and bold.
Written by the winners – revised by conquerors.

I was one of three who selected her.
She gave a good performance
vivacity – the modern absurd
employment years distil to 30 minutes of sparkle.
Still, all questions were answered
without effort
and with humour.

The boss had high regard for humour.
SOH was a sort of emotional GPS
it would ensure one was never lost
no matter how difficult or forbidding the terrain.

The successor didn’t want to be told anything,
Literally.
Everything was to be written down
times, schedules, rosters, suppliers
she could deal with it more easily that way.
“ Lists please.”

Work lists
holiday lists
when to-do lists
who to call lists, just in case lists
weekly lists, monthly lists, quarterly lists, annual lists
and a summary – a list of lists.

All transcribed into the requestor’s handwriting and
presented to the secretaries for typing
posted – prominently.
Management takes imprint of determination and energy
a professional
formalising the informal.

Pique was affronted but departure imminent.
Later there were many tales of scenery stealing.
It was the other two I tell a disgruntled former colleague
“ I was leaving so just went along with them. ”
Vanity rewrites history to exclude responsibility.

For the story behind a story click Backstage

Hierarchy
even when achievement is long and distinguished
a single entity stands alone
a book
a film
a performance
a pinnacle not previously summitted. And never again.

The second year in the school was mine
the first year had gone well
and the following five all pretty good too.
But the second was a perfect year
everything unfolding smoothly, symmetrically – no kink or rush
even football
we almost won the championship.

Our form master was exactly what God had in mind
when designing a homeroom teacher for 12-year-old boys.
Fair, firm, compassionate, fun-loving, tolerant
and wise
knowing the almost adolescents were still children
and the world would bear down …. soon enough.

Its official name was The General Excellence Award
one per class.
We called it the poofter prize
openly disparaging it
but secretly desirous.

Two days before prize giving
our form master takes me aside
an oath of silence must be agreed to.
The General Excellence Award
came down to me and John
but John is leaving the school
going to a bigger school – where he won’t be known.
I was staying here
I’d get the prize – “ it was just a matter of time.”

I never did.
No conspiracy
the next five years were all good
that year – the second – was my perihelion.

I took it to mean I should have won
a 12 year old felt betrayed
he’d broken the rules
dishonesty – by his own irreproachable standards.
A fifty something is pleased he did
it was a Catholic school and a very Christian thing to do.

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