Category: Memoir

My Marxist Philosophy Class

In 1998 I started an eight-week evening college course, Introduction to Philosophy. I was in my mid-thirties and was aware of philosophers, of course. But I hadn’t read their works and knew nothing about critical thinking. Our text was Sophie’s World by Jostein Gaarder. And our tutor was a Marxist.

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Memories of my Pop

When I was five-years-old, my parents separated, and my younger brother and I moved in to live with our grandparents. While our Nan embraced her two young grandsons with warm grandmotherly arms, our Pop could be standoffish and a little scary, especially when angry with a couple of “naughty boys”.

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My Week in Politics

Since 2007, I’ve sat and watched Australian politics stumble from one self-obsessed stuff-up to the next, resulting in the revolving door prime ministerships of Rudd-Gillard-Rudd and Abbott-Turnbull-Morrison, and the rise of crackpot fringe politicians. In the past week, I stood up and took action.

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My First Buddhist Lesson

It was my younger brother’s idea to attend the Buddhist lesson. He said it was being held in the back room of a pub, a short walk from my flat, which was handy because we were running late and my bladder felt full as we headed out the door. But I had decided to hold on until we got to the pub.

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Can I Pat That Dog?

When my son was a five-year-old, I gave a talk at his child care centre called, Can I Pat That Dog? I based it on a book of the same title written by Susan McLaine. And though it’s over ten years since that visit and my “little boy” now towers over me, I still highly recommend the book.

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Albums That Changed Your Life (Part 1)

A friend nominated me for a recent Facebook challenge. If you haven’t joined the movement to delete Facebook, you will have seen it, “Albums that changed your life”. It also appears as the “Ten album challenge”, the “Pictorial music challenge”, the “Seven all time favourite albums” or as “what-the-heck, I’m just posting my favourites!”  

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Writing Can Be Lonely

Writing can be lonely, especially if you’re living on your own in a cramped flat, in another country, far away from family and friends. So I volunteered to work one afternoon a week at the local Oxfam shop, to get away from my writing desk, to get out of my flat, and to meet and mingle with people.

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