34. I’m leaving…..!

Like many old people, there are times when I can feel a little “low- spirited”. Health problems are a fact of life for many of us, making us painfully aware that we will not always be able to continue our daily routines in the same way as before and that, from time to time, there will be setbacks. While accepting that this is all a part of growing old, we also need to accept that there will be times when our circumstances are such that it is hard to avoid becoming withdrawn and feeling miserable.

I have found myself in this situation at least once and for me, the most effective way to pull myself out of this state of self-pity was to try to focus my thinking onto some of the little things that have happened during my morning walks, things that make me want to come back again day after day, in particular, the interactions with my friends. By focussing my thoughts on these brief and happy encounters my mood has soon lifted and, as it says in the lyrics of an old First World War marching song, I’m then able to “pack up my troubles in my old kit bag and smile, smile, smile”.

Today I thought I might tell you a little more about my New Zealand friends, Chris, Dick and Oscar. I would guess that all three of them arrived in Australia 50 or so years ago, when travel between the two countries was still visa free and easy. None of them, I was told, had even needed a passport.

When Dick came over to Australia, as a tourist, he had certainly not intended to stay here forever. Being young and full of energy, he had a lot of fun here but, as one might expect, it did not take him long to spend his holiday money and he then had to ask his mother to send him more. By the time she was able to arrange this for him, he had already found himself a job. He then decided that he would stay a little longer, and then, a little longer still. In the end, he never returned to live permanently in New Zealand again. Oscar possibly has a similar story.

In the years when Dick and Oscar moved here, there was free movement of people between the two countries. New Zealanders were able to work here and enjoy the same benefits as Australians. It was only later, in 1986, that new rules came into force, which dictated that New Zealanders, from that time onwards, had to wait 6 months before they could obtain social security benefits. After that the rules were changed several times more by successive governments, all changes being designed to impose additional restrictions on the free movement of people between the two countries. In recent years, however, the tide appears to be turning again and it now looks as though we may see greater relaxation in the visa rules.

Chris told us a slightly different story. She arrived in Australia after a 3-day voyage by ship from Auckland and was only 17 years old when she left her home country.  She remembers that her father was crying as her ship departed. Like Dick and Oscar, she decided to stay here and to become an Australian citizen. In her words: “It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

According to Chris there were lots of men in their twenties on her ship who all came here to avoid having to do their national service in New Zealand, which had been introduced there in 1961 and lasted until 1972.

Chris remembers sailing into Sydney Harbour on a beautiful morning and still recalls hearing the music which welcomed her as the ship slowly moved alongside the quay. She remembers the band playing “I’m leaving”. I haven’t been able to find the music or the words which she’s referring to, but it obviously made a big impression on her.

It may have been John Denver’s famous song: “I’m leaving on a jet plane. Don’t know when I’ll be back again, Oh babe, I hate to go”. Or, possibly,  Glen Campbell’s song “By the time I get to Phoenix, she’ll be rising. She’ll find the note I left hanging on her door….”, which topped the charts at the time.  I remember the tunes and lyrics of both and I’m sure I would have sung them many times. Songs like this can evoke so many deep feelings of leaving and loss.

It got me thinking about how this sense of loss would be felt by all migrants and refugees.  I remember my own strong emotions, when I was leaving on a ship to settle in Australia, while thinking about my family and my friends back in Holland. I still think, even now, about my parents, and the loss they must have felt when I left them for an uncertain future.

The French have a well-known phrase, which I remember from my school days: “Partir, c’est mourir un peu”, which means “To go away is to die a little”. It was first written in 1891 by a French poet in his poem, “Le Rondel de l’adieu”. I’ve thought about this poem very often over the years and today it came to the surface as Chris, Dick, Oscar and I talked about loss and about precious memories.

As we grow older, we become more aware of the important things in life, such as the value of companionship. Walking and talking allows us to express our feelings of sadness and loss to those who are willing to listen and who understand. For me it means sharing issues that bother me with my walking friends.

O.P.

P.S. Next week’s post will be all about the “goings on” in a famous old beer cellar in Amsterdam.