The young woman chosen to represent Lucia always seems to be a “typical” blonde Swede, and so that’s why I really loved that today’s Lucia broke the tradition, with dark hair and a nose ring.
Though the actual Saint Lucy’s Day is December 13, every year the Swedish Church in Sydney presents the celebration a little early, co-inciding with their annual Christmas market, “Julmarknad”, and that’s what I went to this afternoon.
What is Saint Lucy’s Day? As Wikipedia notes:
Saint Lucy’s Day is celebrated most commonly in Scandinavia, with their long dark winters, where it is a major feast day, and in Italy, with each emphasising a different aspect of the story. In Scandinavia, where Saint Lucy is called Santa Lucia in Norwegian and Sankta Lucia in Swedish, she is represented as a lady in a white dress and red sash with a crown or wreath of candles on her head. In Norway, Sweden and Swedish-speaking regions of Finland, girls dressed as Lucy carry rolls and cookies in procession as songs are sung. Boys participate in the procession as well, playing different roles associated with Christmas. It is said that to vividly celebrate Saint Lucy’s Day will help one live the long winter days with enough light.
I love going to this every year. It’s such a warm celebration, and it helps me practice my Swedish, as I listen and occasionally sing along.
Just two years ago, my life took an unexpected turn with the amputation of my lower right limb. Today marks that anniversary, or as I’ve playfully dubbed it, my “stump-iversary.” I even briefly entertained the idea of a foot-shaped cake to celebrate, though I quickly decided against it. While my family has a quirky sense of humor and usually plays along, I’m pretty sure that would have been the moment they declared me officially mad!
The first anniversary last year was a significant milestone. I’d gone from being fully active to suddenly living with a physical disability, after months spent in hospital and rehabilitation. Returning to work part-time and rebuilding my life felt momentous. This second anniversary, however, crept up on me. Its arrival was primarily prompted by the end of the financial year, a date I often joke about as my “end-of-financial-year leg cut.” It only clicked when June 30th turned into July 1st.
Cheers!
I was sharing this with my sister today over morning tea, here in my hometown of Lismore. It’s been great visiting family and escaping Sydney’s awful weather – the rain, cold, and general gloom. We had a few days of rain here over the weekend, but today was glorious and sunny. People in Sydney often assume Lismore is perpetually flooding, but it’s not! It’s actually really lovely here right now and looks set to stay that way until Sunday.
I’m working from home while I’m here, though I’ll be popping into the Lismore office for a couple of days this week. It’ll be a wonderful chance to see colleagues I genuinely like and remember fondly. When I was in the hospital, they sent me a care package filled with local chocolates, cookies, and coffee. When that package arrived, I honestly burst into tears. It was such an emotional moment, one of many gifts and well wishes I received throughout my hospital stay.
My time in hospital brought me much closer to many of my colleagues, but it also created a distance with others. For some, I’m now simply “the guy with the disability.” But here I am, two years later, still at work. And why not? My office-based job means I can do everything on my computer or mobile, largely communicating with people, which is the essence of my industry.
This entire experience has also strengthened many of my friendships and family relationships. People who visited me in the hospital, looked out for me, and took care of me when I was incredibly vulnerable. They saw me when I was truly sick, in a coma, and even when I was experiencing some pretty wild hallucinations. Love.
It has fundamentally shifted my outlook on life in many ways. I’ve always worked incredibly hard, and while I still give 100%, I’m less inclined to check in outside of hours now. Occasionally I do, but mostly I lead a normal working life.
In the past couple of years, I’ve also felt motivated to achieve things. Perhaps it’s a strange psychological drive to prove myself, both to myself and to others. That’s why I did things like walk in Mardi Gras and travel to China. There’s still a sense of that “young kid from the wrong side of the tracks in Lismore” who feels he needs to prove everything.
I’m also much more acutely aware of my own mortality. I always knew my family wouldn’t live forever, but I came awfully close to the end two years ago. This has prompted me to think deeply about what I want to do with the rest of my life and what that truly means.
Furthermore, I feel a stronger motivation to contribute to disability advocacy. I’ve joined a couple of working groups and engagement groups, which has introduced me to a much broader spectrum of people living with disabilities than I would have encountered in my previous day-to-day life. This has been a truly insightful experience, helping me realize how fortunate I still am in many aspects of my life. Perhaps there’s something meaningful I can do in the disability space to help others.
So, there it is: the unexpected journey of living with a physical disability, coupled with the natural process of getting older. These are the thoughts weighing on my mind as I celebrate my “stump-iversary.”
News of the situation was shared through various channels, including messages, emails, and social media, resulting in a remarkably positive response. This support has significantly mitigated the challenges of the experience, transforming a potentially difficult period into one marked by unexpected humor.
The comparison to the Black Knight proved particularly apt. The attempt to maintain a positive outlook after both an amputation and a broken hip was humorously acknowledged, with the “It’s only a flesh wound!” sentiment resonating. Similarly, the “hip”ster jokes, while admittedly lighthearted, provided a welcome source of amusement. References to being a “new hip hopper,” a “bionic individual,” and the “hippiest hipster” added a touch of levity to the situation.
The commentary on the hospital food was a notable highlight, with observations on its blandness being a common theme. Suggestions for alternative food options were greatly appreciated.
Beyond the humor, the outpouring of support was deeply appreciated. The delivery of flowers by John, the provision of comfortable pyjamas by Graeme and Grant, and the delivery of my computer by Ross were particularly valuable.
Medical professionals have expressed satisfaction with the progress being made, and a return home is anticipated in the near future. A period of recovery will be necessary, with a focus on regaining mobility.
The collective support has transformed this experience into one that will be remembered fondly. The kindness and humor shared have been invaluable.
Until my lower-limb amputation about two years ago, the world of accessible toilets and priority seating wasn’t something I gave much thought to. My journey since then has been a lesson in adaptation, moving from a wheelchair to crutches, and eventually, to walking unaided. After a recent hip fracture set me back on crutches, I’ve had to re-learn many of these lessons about navigating public spaces. Here are a few things I’ve learned.
The Hidden World of Public Toilets
While I may not always require a wheelchair, I often use accessible toilets for a simple reason: they are usually on the entrance level, saving me a painful trip up or down a flight of stairs.
It’s interesting, though, how they can be almost hidden in plain sight. For 20 years, I frequented a bar in Sydney without knowing it had an accessible toilet on the main floor, simply because it was concealed within a wall mural. I only found it when someone finally pointed it out to me.
Pro Tip for Sydney: If you’re looking for an accessible entrance or toilet in an inner-city bar, check near the poker machine room. For compliance reasons, these areas are almost always wheelchair accessible and often have a toilet nearby.
Public Transport: Phones Down, Look Around
When it comes to public transport, my key piece of advice can be summed up in four words: Phones down, look around.
Depending on my recovery, I sometimes need the priority seating available on buses, trams, and trains. When I was in a wheelchair, the need was obvious. Now, it’s a different story. I usually wear shorts, as my old skinny-legged pants no longer fit over my prosthetic limb. Yet even with the prosthetic technically visible, it’s flesh-coloured, and I’ve found that people rarely look down long enough to notice. My need for a seat isn’t immediately apparent.
Because of this, I’ve noticed that these seats are often occupied by people who don’t need them, simply because they were vacant. Once seated, they disappear into their phones—often with headphones on and sunglasses—completely oblivious to their surroundings and to passengers who may need a seat. I’ve learned that I often have to speak up and ask directly: “Excuse me, may I have that seat, please?”
Timing is also everything. I’ve learned to avoid public transport at two key times:
The 8:00 AM commuter rush: This is when I am most likely to have to ask someone to move.
The 10:30-11:00 AM window: This is when many pensioners and others with disabilities do their shopping. Buses and trams become crowded with wheelie walkers and mobility scooters, making space scarce.
The Daily Obstacle Course
Just walking around the city presents its own set of challenges. I tend to walk close to walls so I have something to grab onto if I feel unsteady. This sometimes means I can’t follow the “keep left” convention on footpaths.
This is where “phones down, look around” applies just as much. People walking while looking at their phones are a common hazard. They often don’t notice that I’m hugging the wall for a reason.
Two other things that make me nervous are small children and dogs. Both can be wonderfully spontaneous, but their unpredictability is a real risk for me. A child or a dog suddenly running towards me has nearly caused me to fall on several occasions. It’s another element of public life I must be constantly, consciously aware of to maintain my balance and safety.
These experiences and tips aren’t unique to me; they could apply to anyone with a mobility disability, especially older people. A little more awareness from everyone can make a world of difference.
“Can we send you a pizza order for a lovely lunch?” a colleague told me today she had recently offered some colleagues in Lismore. “That would be lovely”, she was told, “Except we have no pizza places. They’re all closed, due to the flood.”.
My colleague told me this was a stark insight of how grim things are in Lismore.
For a town of 45,000 people, the shopping options are now restricted to the following: three supermarkets in Goonellabah, with two associated bottleshops, and one pub, the Hilltop Hotel at Goonellabah, though it has a new name which I can’t remember. There are no chains like Target, K-Mart etc.
Beyond that, there’s not much else.
This photograph (unsourced) shows Lismore Square with water up to the rooftop.
Of the 45,000 people, about 5,000 are living in temporary accommodation. For my own family, we have 12 people living in one house. That’s why I came back to Sydney, to give them some additional room. I’m still helping from afar, but I’m guessing it helps them to have one less person sleeping on the couch.
This week, the river came up again. It was three metres less than the catastrophic flood a few weeks ago, though still a major flood.
As Pat joked this week, “It doesn’t matter if it floods again, we’ve got nothing left to lose”.
My nephew articulates the situation once again. “It’s fucked!”
SES drone footage, though noting the floods a few weeks ago were three metres higher. The water was above the shop awnings, close to the power lines.
The flood came to a near-record level again.
This time around the flood was still a “major flood”, though three metres lower than the recent peak. For my family, that meant water through my nephew’s house. For other family, there was water around the houses, but not inside. The things we had managed to salvage from a few weeks ago were once again submerged in our backyard shed.
While my family lived through another rising flood, back here, I was also able to resume a life of “normality”. I’ve actually got a few “normal” social things going on this weekend, ahead of heading back up there in a couple of weeks.
On Wednesday night, I caught up with my friend Andrea.
When I saw the Damien Minton Gallery had organised an “Iggy Pop” retrospective I knew she would be interested. “She’s an old rock chick”, I told Damien about my invitation to Andrea. For many years, a print of Nick Cave dominated her office. Though she’s a few years younger than me, she knew of the cultural relevance of Iggy Pop, and told the story of how she had seen him perform at an early Big Day Out,
The exhibition at the Lord Gladstone, and later the Damien Minton Gallery was very good. And though I was tempted to make a purchase, I decided it was best to hold on to a few pennies for Lismore.
It’s Sunday night and I’ve just had dinner, one of those terrific Margherita pizzas from Crust at Surry Hills. It marks the end of a long weekend of fun, with my friend Pat, visiting from Canberra.
I’m not exactly sure when the Christmas Party season started, though I think it may have been the Walkey Awards which were held a few weeks ago at Luna Park. I’d never actually been to Luna Park before. Growing up in the country and never having visited Sydney until I was about 19, there was no reason why I should have. And of course, over the last 20 years, Luna Park has been opened and closed on several occasions. The venue was great, the awards night fun, and as usual, ended up drinking a bloke called Greg for a couple of hours.
Another highlilght was the annual “Food & Booze Fest” at Ian and Ian’s place. I don’t actually recall how and why Boozefest (as it’s become known) started, but it’s something that I really enjoy going to. Always lots of fun.
I also caught up with some of the people at Boozfest earlier today as we had the annual ABBAMAIL Christmas Drinks at the Glenmore Hotel, one of Sydney’s hidden treasures, with its rooftop views of Circular Quay and excellent pub prices. The usual place, the usual bunch, as we say in ABBAMAIL circles, with the usual bitching and gossiping going on. Mark brought along his copy of the new Frida box set which includes four of Frida’s solo CDs along with a special DVD featuring some of her classic performances, along with a specially recorded interview. While the box set overall doesn’t excite me, although I think it’s nicely packaged, I look forward to seeing the DVD as a separate release.
This photograph features one of the highlights (of a kind) from one of the work-related Christmas Parties on Friday night. According to Dave, who performed the trick, it just requires the can to be about one-third full. Terrific stuff. Yes, on Friday night, we had TWO work Christmas Parties: one for the corporation overall; and one for us alone. I can honestly say, they were the most fun work-related parties I’ve ever been to, even if some of the cliches of “The Office”, such as karaoke were fulfilled.
Summer has well and truly arrived in Sydney. Over the last couple of weeks, it’s been very warm, as the world records its second hottest year on record and Sydney records its hottest. Many is the time I’ve come home in the last couple of weeks and have found myself vegging out on the couch. I was lucky enough to find a fully functioning floor fan in the back lane the other week and it’s been more than enough to cool the house without further destroying the environment.
As you will have read from the news reports over the last week, the hot weather has helped bring out some of the worst in a small group of Sydney siders. I don’t write about politics on this blog, but I don’t think that what’s happened is about politics. It’s about ignorance and opportunism and it’s probably also about how fine the line between civility and anarchy can be.
My favourite pithy comment about what occurred was published on the 702 ABC Sydney Guestbook: These disturbances have many causes which we all have to sort out–tribalism; the politics of division, testosterone, alcohol, etc. I hope we can learn how to live together, multiculturalism strengthens a society and makes it more vibrant. Some of us are about to celebrate the birth of someone of middle eastern appearance and may we all find some goodwill toward each other in true Christmas spirit.
My next post will be from Lismore. See you on the beautiful North Coast.
A friend and I went to the opening of this year’s “Message Sticks” Film Festival, which features the works of Indigenous film-makers at the Sydney Opera House.
This year’s opening night film – “Here I am” directed by Beck Cole – managed to combine what appeared to be fairly grim circumstances for the main character – Karen – with some room for future optimism for her personal circumstance .
Shai Pittman as Karen is just wonderful as the young woman who comes out of prison and moves into a half-way house with a group of other Indigenous woman. The night before, however, she has a one-night stand with a bloke she met at the pub, revealing that she hasn’t always made the best choices in her life. Soon it’s pretty clear, however, that she’s keen to get her life back on tracks and, in particular, to regain custody of her daughter who remains with her grandmother, played beautifully by Marcia Langton.
It’s this central relationship of mother, daughter and grand-daughter that I found particularly touching and which on occasion made my eyes well up slightly. Afterwards, a friend told me she’d seen a couple of women in the toilets crying afterwards because they were so moved by the film.
The film is set in Adelaide and surrounds, and for that reason I found myself looking at the scenery to see if there places I recognised. The photography is really good. The film has a GREAT soundtrack, and is about the right length.
I’m not sure how well the film will do at the cinema – Australian film often struggle at the box office – but I can imagine it will do well when it’s shown on television.
