My AFM for Tony

This month, I'm doing Dry July. It's a fund-raising initiative in support of adults living with cancer.

The idea is that you pledge to abstain from alcohol for a month - this month - and ask people to sponsor you. Their donations go towards providing or improving facilities at hospitals that treat cancer patients.

My nominated beneficiary is the Chris O'Brien Lifehouse at Royal Prince Alfred Hospital, in Sydney.

So have an alcohol free month (AFM), give your liver a rest, raise some money and feel really good, right?

Not so quickly. Why has Dr July caught on with so many people (more than 17,000 registered this year so far)? Why am I doing it for a second time? Why have so many media outlets supported it? Read on, and it might resonate.

Well it turns out that everyone has been touched by cancer. It's generationally agnostic. Often, people indicate that there is someone in particular for whom they are doing an AFM, someone who has cancer, has recovered from cancer or who has died from cancer.

In my case, I am doing DJ 2013 in memory of my very good friend, Tony Prince. After being diagnosed with GI cancer just after Christmas 2012, Tony died in May, surrounded by his family and having received very good support and management, and eventually palliative care at home and finally in hospital.

The facilities and support for people with cancer make a huge difference, and Tony acknowledged the incredible kindness and dedication of those with whom he came into contact over the last few months of his life.

Tony and his whole family are very special to me and my family. That's all I need to say. So while I grieve with the Prince family, I give thanks to God for the 25 years or so years that we have been friends. He and the whole family are part of my life story, have shared many of my highs and some of my lows.

This is not intended to be a eulogy to Tony, but he is definitely a very good illustration of why so many people have decided to make July an AFM. In a small way, and in a way that might make things a bit better for the patients, their families and friends and the dedicated people who work in hospital cancer clinics, it makes a big difference. So for a month I give up the evening wine or three, and the occasional beer or two. It feels pretty good, and in honour of Tony, my mum and all the people in our lives who we have lost to cancer, it makes a positive difference to thousands of cancer patients.

If you reckon you would like to do it yourself - for your own personal reasons - then go to Dry July and  check it out. While there, you can sponsor someone, or a team. Donations are tax deductible. Be surprised by the responses.

If you want to sponsor me, and send a message or even buy me a "golden ticket" then thanks. For me, with a painfully clear head and a range of alternative non alcohol beverages  I will celebrate the life of my friend Tony. I reckon he'd have had a good laugh about me having an AFM! Then again he'd probably have sponsored me, too.

Cheers Tony!

Hello and Farewell

On Christmas day, just after 5.00pm, my wife gave birth to our daughter, a precious gift.

Through the power of the internet, and the assistance of my nephew in Adelaide, my mum was able to see up to date pictures of our baby girl and rejoice.

Yesterday, December 30 around 10.30am , after a relatively short illness, my mum died, peacefully, comfortably and with the solid conviction of the promise of eternal life.

Hello and welcome Kaelyn. Farewell Mother.

Not Long to Go Now

As I write this post, I find myself contemplating convergence... of new life coming and another ending.

Much of what drives the content of this site is the convergence of generations - the boomers, the gen Xers and gen Y.

As we wait in anticipation of our baby girl, my mum is dying. How more convergent do the generations get?

There is much to look forward to.

Crikey: Life's an Adventure

The deaths of wildlife warrior Steve Irwin on Monday Sep 4, and then motor racing hero Peter Brock in quick succession on Friday September 8 has given many of us pause to reflect.

Both were men of renown, with Brock, the stuff of legend in the Australian car racing scene over three decades, and Irwin the cocodile hunter having established fame on a world stage.

Like many Australians, I mourn their deaths - both sudden and unexpected, though both somewhat predictable in hind-sight. "Death by mis-adventure" is what will probably appear on their death certificates. "Life lived as an adventure," I would also like to think.

There are so many elements and so much has been recorded about the lives of Steve Irwin and Peter Brock, so my own contribution to the musings is modest. I simply acknowledge that they gave so many people hope.

They successfully tapped into and effectively influenced multi-generations - Brock, a War baby in his sixties, had a legion of fans across Boomers, Gen X and even Gen Ys. Steve Irwin had universal appeal across generations, across cultures and across the globe. Both brought messages of value to millions. Messages of passion, safety and the environment.

We all feel a little sad, and sympathetic towards those closest to these remarkable Australians. In time, we can see them as figures who helped shape or define our world and maybe even who we are or aspire to be like.

Mostly, I hope it gives us another reminder to be glad of our God-given time, that even our heroes are fallible and our human condition is frail, so we should all make the most of our time, our skills and our gifts - and inspire others to do the same.

Crikey, Steve and Brocky sure did!

Time to make a living

A recent post on Squash that alludes to time "Making a living in the smallest possible time" caused me to reflect (and I had the time!)

In it, Phil Sim credits Paul Graham with some commentary that supports the idea encapsulated in the heading. Not far beneath the surface of this commentary is some sadness. While I hope that neither Phil or Paul have recently experienced bereavement, nothing makes us more respectful of time than death.

Other than actual death, everything else is an artificial deadline. And in our extravagant use of language in business, we speak of deadlines, even drop deadlines. Our lives - and our computers, the Internet and virtual worlds - are defined by chronology. This is a universally accepted measure broken into years, months, days, hours... nanoseconds.

As Phil seems to imply, I completely support the idea of making a living in the smallest possible. I spend time dreaming of ways to earn a living that will support me without taking up my time. I have a long list of things I'd like to be doing other than making a living, and I am forced by my circumstances, nature and patterns of behaviour to compromise this conflict.

We speak of realtime, Internet time, face time and "time for a chat" (usually not good)

Recently, I have come to understand time in a different boomerexy way.

Theologians, philosophers and rhetoricians make various interpretations of kairos. To me, kairos captures those moments in your life that give it definition. The time you kissed, had sex, proposed, married, became a parent, got fired, dumped or failed some test, won something or were elevated in some way for the first time.

While chronos time ticks along as I contemplate making a living in the smallest possible time, it's kairos moments for which I live. I'm no less committed to getting the money thing sorted out, and I am increasingly conscious of leveraging my making-a-living-days more effective, but kairos time can not be compressed. After all, how long does a decision take? Not the processing, contemplation, procrastination... a decision.

Seems we're all a few (kairos) decisions away from making a living. In the meanwhile, using your precious chronological allocation to hug someone you love (or better still, tell them), be with them or do that thing you've been meaning to, it's a small concession with potentially great reward. Do it even if, as a result, it takes you a moment longer to make your living.