I finally found out where my son is. I'm so happy!!!
March 23rd 2008 21:17
My son used to have a couple of blogs on here. He lost them because he's quite a loose canon. He never told me what happened. I gather he upset a few people. He's a very confrontational young man. He's sworn at me a lot of time, and he knows I don't like swearing. But I love him. I gave birth to him. I would never not love him. I'd die for him if I had to. And I don't care how many people call me stupid or tell me I'm an idiot for helping him out. He's my son. And I love him.
He disappeared a few weeks ago, and I've been worried sick. But I just received the most wonderful news I think I've had for fifty years. He's got a job and is living in Brisbane. And he did it to show his gratitude to me for everything I've ever done for him. I just have to share this email with you!!!
Oh God, how long is it going to take me to type this out?
Dear Mum,
Guess what?
Are you sitting down? If you're not? You'd better sit down to read this.
You know how you gave me a few grand and said, "Now go and use it to sort your life out."? And how you said, "I only want to hear from you if it's good news."?
I bring good tidings. Think of me as the young roe or hart in Solomon's Canticle of Canticles, skipping gleefully over the hill.
I'll tell you what I did. From the beginning. Because the only way I know how to express my gratitude to another human being is to live a good life. Not use words. Even though I love words. Remember how you told me over and over again, "Example speaks louder than words."? I think it finally sunk in.
First of all, I want to say this. You are the most wonderful mother a man could ever wish to have. You have llived by example. You have set a very high standard. You are the most charitable woman I've even encountered in my life. It may well have been to your own detriment, but isn't that a living expression of Catholicism. Didn't Our Lord choose crucifixion? What was in it for Him? Saving souls. Full stop.
You are a modern day St Monica mum. She prayed for years to convert St Augustine. And she's the patron saint of mothers. I hope you two enjoy a good chinwag in heaven. I can see the pair of you up there bumping your gums. (When I get there? Me and St Augustine can have a bit of a chat. I'll concede he's got a greater mind than me, but let God be the judge?). I've even got my sense of humour back. How good is that?
Anyway, before I tell you what I'm up to? I want to focus on you a bit. A bit of you time. You deserve it. I want to focus on your life of virtue put into practice.
When dad was drinking and gambling his life away, and you sold your piano to rescue him from debt? Not many modern women would do that. But that's love. Modern people will call it stupidity but you did it because you made marriage vows. "For better or worse." And you kept your marriage vows right to the end. And even pray for dad, even though he treated you like a complete piece of shit. That's charity. That is such an admirable quality. Modern people won't understand it. They can't stand God's laws or even hearing His name mentioned. Feminiists think God is a woman. How stupid. He's a spirit. They can all go and get stuffed. So much for my virtue. But I do amuse myself at times. I'll get there in the end. Even God has a sense of humour. I'm sure I amuse Him and He sometimes shakes His head and goes, "David even amuses the saints."?
I think one of the most amazing things you ever did in your life was to bail dad out of debt. What did he leave you with? Five thousands pounds in debt in the 60s? Or was it ten thousand? Do people realise how much money that is? And what did you do? Because you wanted to keep your integrity? And took your marriage vows seriously, as sacred obligations to God. "For better or for worse." You went and took a whole heap of shitty jobs to pay every single debt off. Getting up at 5am to go and work as a kitchenhand in the local hospital? Working at lunchtime as a cook at the pub. Working at night as a waitress in the pub. So Lynne and I could eat, and you could pay off dad's debts. You went without so we could flourish. And what was dad doing? Trying to find a woman who would believe his lies? Poor old dad. He didn't know any better. I wish I'd matured earlier. I would have sorted dad out. I would have said to him, "You've got this wonderful wife, and you treat her like shit, dad. Now either start treating her properly, or I'll give you a hiding." But I matured late mum. Dad gave me so many hidings I was scared of him back then. But I love him. He did his best. He will always be my dad. And the only biological one I'll ever had. Not that I'm looking for a sugar daddy.
Now let me get onto the subject of bailing me out of debt. Which is the second most amazing thing you did in your life. I am my father's son. Every time I'm been in financial trouble in my life, you have bailed me out. I'm not going to do what dad did. I'm going to pay you back. In two ways. 1. Financially. (I just hope God lets you live long enough for me to repay every single cent you ever gave me). 2. I'll live a good life and make you proud of me. You'll be able to say. My son is everything I want in a son. He's a hard working honest man.
So, now I'll tell you what I did. I'll just qualify and justify a few things first.
It's tough for a male to grow up without a father. It turns sons into mummy's boys. Hanging on to the apron strings.
I don't just want you to respect me. I want to respect myself. I want to look at myself in the mirrror while I'm shaving each morning and go, "David, You are a man. You are working for a living." It's that simple. I have always respected men who work for a living. Especially those who work physically hard. It makes men out of boys. I want people to say things about me like, "Stuff your son is a hard worker and a good living man." (If I never get to pay you back all the money you've lent me over your lifetime, at least you can die happy going "I did it out of love. My only wish in life was that my son turned into a good man.").
So, after sitting on my arse at your place for the past year drinking piss and writing, I came to the conclusion I really should get a job. I'm so grateul you let me stay at your place for a year mum. I couldn't have stood another night on the streets in Melbourne. Walking around all night long just to keep warm.
There's not another living soul on this planet who would have taken me in. I know it took me a while to get off my lazy arse, but I finally did it.
So, you know how I said to you, "I think I'm the greatest, unrecognised living writer of my own generation, but it's not paying the bills." ?
Well, I thought I'd give writing the flick. People aren't worthy of reading what I write. Sorry, just had an extremely narcissistic moment. But stuff it. It's the truth. I'm a great writer. FIGJAM.
Anyway, I'll put the mirror aside.
Out of the 83 jobs I've had in my life, the one I loved most was being a postie. So what happened was this mum. I couldn't get a job as a postie in Adelaide. But there were heaps of postie jobs in Brisbane. So I rang up Australia Post in Brisbane. And the recruitment lady said, "If you want a job, just come and live up here." So I put an ad on share accommodation and this lady said, "I've got a room to rent."
So I flew up to Brisbane. (Well I sat in the seat of the plane while it flew me up here). And moved into this house and then rang Australia Post again. They said, "Come in for an interview." So I did. Then they rang back and said, "Come in and work for us." So I did.
So I'm back working as a postie again, mum. And I love it. They're long gruelling days. Most days are from 6am until about 5.30pm. But it's healthy for a man to work. And I want to be a man, not a mummy's boy. I'll never become the man I was meant to become if I don't have a manly, virile job. (I'm not going to tell you about how I run old grannies off the footpath on their motorised wheelchairs, and go "Get out of my road you stupid old grey-rinse set dipstick!" You might think I don't like old women.) Told you I had my sense of humour back. Just don't drive on my footpath mum. Okay?
Yet I'll always love you. I just want to show you I love you. Not tell you. Stuff words are useless unless you mean them and aren't a hypocrite.
I'm still drinking shitloads of beer. (Only at night or on the weekends. I'll never drive when i've had a drink again. I need my licence and a job too much). I'm still drinking far too much, but I'll work on that once I get a bit of stablility happening. I think I'm on my third slab for the Easter weekend. I've just spent the whole four days writing and drinking and getting banned from adult chat rooms for telling paedophile jokes. Boy people are touchy and testy.
Mum. I love you.
You are the best mother a son could ever wish for.
David ....
He disappeared a few weeks ago, and I've been worried sick. But I just received the most wonderful news I think I've had for fifty years. He's got a job and is living in Brisbane. And he did it to show his gratitude to me for everything I've ever done for him. I just have to share this email with you!!!
Oh God, how long is it going to take me to type this out?
Dear Mum,
Guess what?
Are you sitting down? If you're not? You'd better sit down to read this.
You know how you gave me a few grand and said, "Now go and use it to sort your life out."? And how you said, "I only want to hear from you if it's good news."?
I bring good tidings. Think of me as the young roe or hart in Solomon's Canticle of Canticles, skipping gleefully over the hill.
I'll tell you what I did. From the beginning. Because the only way I know how to express my gratitude to another human being is to live a good life. Not use words. Even though I love words. Remember how you told me over and over again, "Example speaks louder than words."? I think it finally sunk in.
First of all, I want to say this. You are the most wonderful mother a man could ever wish to have. You have llived by example. You have set a very high standard. You are the most charitable woman I've even encountered in my life. It may well have been to your own detriment, but isn't that a living expression of Catholicism. Didn't Our Lord choose crucifixion? What was in it for Him? Saving souls. Full stop.
You are a modern day St Monica mum. She prayed for years to convert St Augustine. And she's the patron saint of mothers. I hope you two enjoy a good chinwag in heaven. I can see the pair of you up there bumping your gums. (When I get there? Me and St Augustine can have a bit of a chat. I'll concede he's got a greater mind than me, but let God be the judge?). I've even got my sense of humour back. How good is that?
Anyway, before I tell you what I'm up to? I want to focus on you a bit. A bit of you time. You deserve it. I want to focus on your life of virtue put into practice.
When dad was drinking and gambling his life away, and you sold your piano to rescue him from debt? Not many modern women would do that. But that's love. Modern people will call it stupidity but you did it because you made marriage vows. "For better or worse." And you kept your marriage vows right to the end. And even pray for dad, even though he treated you like a complete piece of shit. That's charity. That is such an admirable quality. Modern people won't understand it. They can't stand God's laws or even hearing His name mentioned. Feminiists think God is a woman. How stupid. He's a spirit. They can all go and get stuffed. So much for my virtue. But I do amuse myself at times. I'll get there in the end. Even God has a sense of humour. I'm sure I amuse Him and He sometimes shakes His head and goes, "David even amuses the saints."?
I think one of the most amazing things you ever did in your life was to bail dad out of debt. What did he leave you with? Five thousands pounds in debt in the 60s? Or was it ten thousand? Do people realise how much money that is? And what did you do? Because you wanted to keep your integrity? And took your marriage vows seriously, as sacred obligations to God. "For better or for worse." You went and took a whole heap of shitty jobs to pay every single debt off. Getting up at 5am to go and work as a kitchenhand in the local hospital? Working at lunchtime as a cook at the pub. Working at night as a waitress in the pub. So Lynne and I could eat, and you could pay off dad's debts. You went without so we could flourish. And what was dad doing? Trying to find a woman who would believe his lies? Poor old dad. He didn't know any better. I wish I'd matured earlier. I would have sorted dad out. I would have said to him, "You've got this wonderful wife, and you treat her like shit, dad. Now either start treating her properly, or I'll give you a hiding." But I matured late mum. Dad gave me so many hidings I was scared of him back then. But I love him. He did his best. He will always be my dad. And the only biological one I'll ever had. Not that I'm looking for a sugar daddy.
Now let me get onto the subject of bailing me out of debt. Which is the second most amazing thing you did in your life. I am my father's son. Every time I'm been in financial trouble in my life, you have bailed me out. I'm not going to do what dad did. I'm going to pay you back. In two ways. 1. Financially. (I just hope God lets you live long enough for me to repay every single cent you ever gave me). 2. I'll live a good life and make you proud of me. You'll be able to say. My son is everything I want in a son. He's a hard working honest man.
So, now I'll tell you what I did. I'll just qualify and justify a few things first.
It's tough for a male to grow up without a father. It turns sons into mummy's boys. Hanging on to the apron strings.
I don't just want you to respect me. I want to respect myself. I want to look at myself in the mirrror while I'm shaving each morning and go, "David, You are a man. You are working for a living." It's that simple. I have always respected men who work for a living. Especially those who work physically hard. It makes men out of boys. I want people to say things about me like, "Stuff your son is a hard worker and a good living man." (If I never get to pay you back all the money you've lent me over your lifetime, at least you can die happy going "I did it out of love. My only wish in life was that my son turned into a good man.").
So, after sitting on my arse at your place for the past year drinking piss and writing, I came to the conclusion I really should get a job. I'm so grateul you let me stay at your place for a year mum. I couldn't have stood another night on the streets in Melbourne. Walking around all night long just to keep warm.
There's not another living soul on this planet who would have taken me in. I know it took me a while to get off my lazy arse, but I finally did it.
So, you know how I said to you, "I think I'm the greatest, unrecognised living writer of my own generation, but it's not paying the bills." ?
Well, I thought I'd give writing the flick. People aren't worthy of reading what I write. Sorry, just had an extremely narcissistic moment. But stuff it. It's the truth. I'm a great writer. FIGJAM.
Anyway, I'll put the mirror aside.
Out of the 83 jobs I've had in my life, the one I loved most was being a postie. So what happened was this mum. I couldn't get a job as a postie in Adelaide. But there were heaps of postie jobs in Brisbane. So I rang up Australia Post in Brisbane. And the recruitment lady said, "If you want a job, just come and live up here." So I put an ad on share accommodation and this lady said, "I've got a room to rent."
So I flew up to Brisbane. (Well I sat in the seat of the plane while it flew me up here). And moved into this house and then rang Australia Post again. They said, "Come in for an interview." So I did. Then they rang back and said, "Come in and work for us." So I did.
So I'm back working as a postie again, mum. And I love it. They're long gruelling days. Most days are from 6am until about 5.30pm. But it's healthy for a man to work. And I want to be a man, not a mummy's boy. I'll never become the man I was meant to become if I don't have a manly, virile job. (I'm not going to tell you about how I run old grannies off the footpath on their motorised wheelchairs, and go "Get out of my road you stupid old grey-rinse set dipstick!" You might think I don't like old women.) Told you I had my sense of humour back. Just don't drive on my footpath mum. Okay?
Yet I'll always love you. I just want to show you I love you. Not tell you. Stuff words are useless unless you mean them and aren't a hypocrite.
I'm still drinking shitloads of beer. (Only at night or on the weekends. I'll never drive when i've had a drink again. I need my licence and a job too much). I'm still drinking far too much, but I'll work on that once I get a bit of stablility happening. I think I'm on my third slab for the Easter weekend. I've just spent the whole four days writing and drinking and getting banned from adult chat rooms for telling paedophile jokes. Boy people are touchy and testy.
Mum. I love you.
You are the best mother a son could ever wish for.
David ....
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Comment by Lilla
From The Home Front
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I knew your son a little, although sometimes I think we got off on the wrong foot through interference (a long story) ... however, I only work up the road and since he is new in town, I think it might be nice to meet for a coffee and chat, so he can get to know a few locals, perhaps.
I am glad he is found and doing
wellbetter.Lilla ...
Comment by D. Armenta
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