Let the good guys win

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I’ll start the New Year off with words that aren’t my own – although they resonate with me very strongly.

May I get what I want / Not what I deserve / May the coming year not throw a single curve / May I hurt nobody / May I tell no lies / If I can’t go on give me strength to try… / Bring the old year out / Bring the new year in / Bring us all good luck / Let the good guys win…

I heard this song for the first time in 2005, at Swancon XXX. It was performed by one of my all-time favourite authors, Charles de Lint, accompanied the equally lovely MaryAnn Harris. The song isn’t theirs either, but they sang it as though it was – with belief and feeling and gentleness.

I was immediately captivated – both by the informality of having Charles and MaryAnn performing for a room full of fans, and by the song lyrics themselves. So much so, that this is my see-in-the-New-Year-song of choice every year.

When you see something wrong / Try and make it right / Pull your shadowed world / Into the bright sunlight…/ Bring the old year out / Bring the new year in / Bring us all good luck / Let the good guys win…

… and that’s what I wish you all for 2016, … singing hey ya, hey ya, hey ya / hey ya, hey ya, hey ya…

 

Ageing disgracefully

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Some time ago I created a vision board to reflect my emerging two-to-five-year plan. The aim was for this to act as a visual reminder and an anchor. It included big picture items that take a bit of planning, such as a trip to overseas (Scandinavia, perhaps), finishing off our kitchen renovations and having an electric vehicle as our primary mode of transport. These are all still ticking along as background tasks, some more actively than others.

In terms of immediate personal plans, however, plausible outcomes seemed like the best working premise. So for this year I chose fairly simple goals – ones that I felt I could realistically conquer and that would leave future-me feeling the year had been a success.
personal goals 2015I aimed to increase my general fitness (somewhat-tick), establish a strong bond with our puppy (ohmygiddyaunt – so much tick!), get my memoir publication-ready (mostly-tick), blog regularly (tick) and spend more time doing things I enjoy (increasingly-tick). All in all, past-me made some sound choices and implemented most of them.

Looking back at the past year has made me think about past-me quite a lot and about some of the choices she made for me. I remember a young woman who used to say (rather flippantly) that she would age disgracefully, that she’d work at not growing up as she grew older (i.e. not get boring).

Now that past-me has turned into present-me, I conclude that this was a surprisingly good – and achievable – plan. Amongst other things, I’ve continued to wear jeans, sit on the floor, walk around barefoot, laugh out loud at things that amuse me and smile at strangers. All these things are intrinsic to who I am, although I gave them little thought until relatOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAively recently. Over time, however, I’ve realised that they make me actively happy.

When I think about future-me, I’d like her to be happy too – and to continue not feel constrained by social pressures to become a tidy and conventional old lady. I’d like people to say to her (as they do to me) that she seems younger than her chronological years – and I’d like it to be because, like me, she enjoys life.

Of course, ageing does come with a few limiting factors: get-up-and-go that has sometimes got-up-and-gone, a reduced inclination to be tolerant of rudeness and bad service, and an occasional tendency to be forgetful – these have certainly all become part of my landscape.

But past-me found some useful coping strategies along the way, some of them in The Sunscreen Song. Somewhat surprisingly, many of those tips feel as relevant now as they did then – although some resonate age disgracefullymore strongly than others, including:
* be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone
* the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself.
* be nice to your siblings

But if I could add just one additional lyric for future-me, I think it would be:
Age disgracefully – it’s always more fun than you think.

 

Reverse Advent

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Did you know that at least 13.9% of Australians are living below the internationally accepted poverty line?

I didn’t.

Nor did I realise that, on any given night, 1 in 200 people in Australia are homeless and over two million people are dependent on food donations in order to survive.

That’s a lot of people. That’s a lot of people with little or no food and very little hope.

Various relief agencies try to plug the gaps and provide help where they can. But, in order to do this, they need help from government, corporate sponsors – and from the community.

Providing some food for people in need is something practical and tangible that one can do to help. So this December I signed on to take part in a ‘reverse advent’ activity. It works on the simple premise of counting down to Xmas by giving rather than receiving. Participants set aside a box and then add a non-perishable foOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAod item to the box every day up to and including Xmas Eve.

Individuals or groups involved in the food drive were encouraged to source a local charitable organisation (homeless shelter, women’s refuge, etc.) that would be willing to receive their food donations. We would then each individually trot off and deliver the (filled) box to our chosen charity on Xmas Eve.

A brief hunt around on the Internet and a few phone calls made me realise that this wasn’t really a practical option. It turns out that most organisations need the food at least a week before Xmas. This allows time for sorting, assembling the care packages or hampers and getting them to those in need.

I acknowledge that there are those who believe that donating money to charities is more worthwhile than donating food – and I encourage those who wish to make donations to do so. However, I have some personal reservations about the overheads that many such organisations have in terms of premises, staffing and advertising. In some instances not much of my paltry donation actually appears to get to the people that I’m concerned about.

But a tin of soup (or whatever) is a tangible item, a consumable that I think someone will be able to put to good use – perhaps to feed one meal to one of those million hungry children in Australia. It also speaks directly to the notion that food is a central concern for all humans – but that not everyone gets to eat every day.

Given all of this, I decided that what I needed was to find was a ‘gatekeeper’ – an organisation that acts as a central repository for foofoodbankd donations. Food Bank WA  fits the bill perfectly. It’s a not-for-profit, non-denominational organisation that facilitates food distribution to the needy.  It has relatively few staff members, but a very large cohort of volunteers – which adds to my general feel-good vibe.

This week DaughterDearest and I took a drive out to the Food Bank to drop off our filled boxes – and it felt good to be part of a solution, however small a part it might be.

We were invited to have a look at the facility and I was amazed to find just how comprehensive a service it is. Food Bank not only receives food, often saving pallets of tinned food from going to landfill (!), and acts as a clearing house by supplying numerous charities with food packages for those in need – it also has a commercial kitchen.

This is where some of the volunteers process and cook excess fresh produce that’s donated by businesses. For example, tomatoes are turned into pasta sauce. The freshly cooked food is then snap frozen and organisations are notified that ready-to-eat meals are available for pick up. How good is that?

We came away feeling inspired. Indeed, sufficiently so that I’ve decided to run quarterly food drives next year.

So, for anyone who’s interested, all you’d need to do is buy one extra item each time you shop. Then drop it off in the donations crate at my place next time you visit – or let me know and I’ll swing past to pick things up. Your contributions can remain anonymous if you prefer, or I’ll acknowledge them when I make the deliveries.

If a few people join in and donate an item each month (or week) and to the collection, we should have a good-sized box to drop off Food Bank by the end of March 2016.

Just think about it. Warm and fuzzy feelings will abound,

food appeal poster

Haul out the Holly…

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xmas treeI’ve been wondering whether, at some point, ‘festive spirit’ becomes something one hears tinkling over the speakers in shopping malls, but is somehow unable to relate to. Does the jollity gradually begin to ebb, leaving us with comfortable memories of Xmas-past and no overwhelming desire to try to replicate them?

Perhaps context is a key element…

If one is a churchgoer, for example, then the religious symbolism probably provides its own kind of build up to the event: an always-already-there bye-in, as it were.

If one has children (or grandchildren), then there’s usually a certain frisson of excitement around the notions of decorating the tree, finding the right gifts for the littlies and, of course, visits from Santa.

Then there are those who spend time with extended family (or adopted family), where the drivers might be the fun of planning menus and of exchanging gifts and reconnecting with loved ones.

I imagine that any or all of these tend to make the endless carols in shopping centres just part of a greater whole.

So why did I find myself singing ‘I need a little Xmas, right this very minute…’ under my breath en route to the city this week and feeling not the slightest bit jolly? After all, I fall into two of the three categories, my (now adult) children, (quasi) grandchildren and extended family the very essence of what makes Xmas for me.

The festivities generally rotate between our house and that of Sibling#2. Given that this year it’s our turn as hosts, I would usually have crossed most things off my inevitable lists by now. Xmas stockings and other gifts would have been organised, the menu planned, the annual family letter would be underway and a number of handmade cards completed and waiting to go out in the mail.

All that I’d have left to do is to decorate the tree on December 16 (a family tradition), a flurry of last minute baking and some shopping for perishables, drinks and the like a few days before the event. At a push I might also need to make the odd foray for a couple of oh-my-gosh-extra-gifts if extra people end up invited to lunch.

But not this year…

This year I’ve found myself feeling more like an observer than a participant and have had to do some soul searching to figure out why…

… and I eventually got it! For the first time in forever (well, since I moved out of home at the age of 19) I am an observer. I’ve actively stepped back from all catering and hostessing arrangement for Xmas day – despite our house being the venue for the family gathering.

After the festivities last year, I suggested to the offspring that 2015 might be time for the baton to be passed on.

It went something along the lines of, ‘Perhaps you guys could organise the menu and sort out catering and so forth for me next Xmas… what do you think?’

‘Fair enough,’ was the response. ‘We’ll sort it out between us.’

In due course (about six weeks ago) they convened a meeting and, between them and their respective partners, decided on a menu and timeline. A couple of weeks later they issued invitations to all the usual suspects (including Himself and me) and roped their cousins et al in to help with the catering. Clever munchkins!

The upshot of all this is that I don’t need to be particularly organised this year! I can use this last two weeks to shop for gifts, pretty up the tree and get Himself to string up heaps of coloured lights.

Once I realised all this, I suddenly felt quite Xmassey! It’s not that I’m not in the mood or that the jollity has ebbed; it’s just that the mood’s been on hold.

After this little epiphany, I got stuck in and made my cards, bought a few gifts and have arranged to trot off to a family carols evening. To paraphrase Johnny Mathis, I seem to have found a little laughter, found a little singing, found a little Xmas-time 🙂

Puppy’s first Xmas, 2014 – it’s all about the wrapping paper 🙂

So what exactly is a GenghisCon?

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I’m often met with puzzled looks when I mention that I’m involved with a group called GenghisCon. “What on earth is that?” or “Did you say Genghis Khan?” or “Say what?” are fairly standard responses. Despite the relative frequency with which I get those responses, I’m always slightly taken aback. After all, it’s been part of my milieu for about 16 years…

So what exactly is a GenghisCon and how did it start?

Essentially, it’s a low-cost, max-fun 3-day geek annual convention. GenghisCon provides a range of activities from table-top gaming/roleplaying/LARP/console gaming to panel discussions on technology/gaming/geek culture/science/etc., as well as hands-on creative workshops. There’s even a one-day marketplace with traders and stalls, selling a wide range of geek loot, books and handcrafted items. We sometimes have water-balloon and water-pistol fights (because we can), tend to eat junk food and have been known whack each other (gently) with foam rubber swords 🙂

It all started in 2001 with DaughterDearest. A science fiction enthusiast and, at that time, a member of MARS (the Murdoch Alternative Reality Society), she’d become increasingly indignant at the cost of the then one-and-only science fiction convention in Perth.

“It’s iniquitous!” she ranted. “How do they expect students to afford those prices? And it’s not like it’s even fun anymore!”

As the annual convention drew closer, her litany of irritated exclamations escalated. Dinnertime conversations centred on the topic long enough for the parental unit (me) to eventually find it tedious. We’d thrashed the topic to death, we all agreed on the basic points and I was over it. So I suggested that instead of complaining, perhaps she should do something about it – perhaps start her own (low cost, max fun) convention…

One thing about DD – she does rise to a challenge – and this time she did so in spades. The next day she thrashed the idea around with some friends at MARS, several of whom were very keen to roll with it, and invited a few of them over to the old homestead to take the discussions to the next level. Before we knew it, we’d been invaded by a flurry of students and our whiteboard was being colonised with ideas, strategies, timelines and possible convention names.

deej at gcon1_2002This group included Danielle Linder (aka DaughterDearest), Mark Turnley, Douglas Linder (aka Boychilde), John Blahusiak, Wendy Macdougall, Colm Kiely, Mike Fineberg and Dean Caruana. By the second meeting they’d been joined by Zara Astle, Robyn Creagh and Msquared – who also thought the idea of an all-new max-fun convention rocked. Together, this happy band made up the first committee.

A lot of brain storming later the name GenghisCon emerged – a nod towards Genghis Khan, who’s empire changed the face of the world…logo_gcon banner3Having a name anchored the convention as a reality, after which things rapidly gained momentum. Robyn drew a Mongolian horse-shield/UFO logo, which remains the identifiable GenghisCon image. Grant Stone  agreed to be our Patron Saint and his tacit support of the new convention helped it to gain traction with the broader SF community. An affordable venue was found, a programme of events – with a strong focus on interactive fun – was devised, and some fundraising was undertaken to pay for the venue and to keep costs down.

A Brains Trust was set up: Himself had attended the very first Swancon (back in 1976), Sibling#1 had served as Treasurer on various Swancon committees, DrMark – a regular visitor and a long-time Swancon-er – had been on the Board of WASFF, Boychilde had uber computer skills, and I had helped to establish a couple of not-for-profits in the past. Between us we could offer suggestions on incorporation, insurance, finances and venue options when needed.

From there it was a relatively short step to the realisation of DaugterDearest’s core idea: a small, student-and-impoverished-fan oriented science and speculative fiction convention, with a strong emphasis on interactive fun. GenghisCon is now a Perth institution, with successive volunteer committees keeping to the basic premise of providing a small, friendly, fun, and inexpensive annual event.

It goes to show that a small group of people with a cool idea can make things happen. If you have an idea, why not start a club, build a convention, join a committee – get involved and create the culture you want to enjoy. If not you, then who?

GenghisCon 15 runs from 15-17 January 2016. Bookings are open now.genghiscon2004_M2pie2