Nobody's Fault, Derek Haines [mobi reader txt] 📗

Nobody’s Fault


by
Derek Haines


PUBLISHED BY:
Derek Haines on Createspace


Nobody’s Fault
Copyright © 2010 by Derek Haines


Cover photo courtesy of:
http://www.morguefile.com/lufra
http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/613203


We read of a certain Roman emperor who built a magnificent palace. In digging the foundation, the workmen discovered a golden sarcophagus ornamented with three circlets, on which were inscribed, ‘I have expended; I have given; I have kept; I have possessed; I do possess; I have lost; I am punished. What I formerly expended, I have; what I gave away, I have.’
Gesta Romanorum

Man's love is of man's life a thing apart; 'T is woman's whole existence.
Lord Byron


Table of Contents
Preface
Chapter 1 Places
Chapter 2 David
Chapter 3 Tony
Chapter 4 Steven
Chapter 5 Trucks
Chapter 6 Luck
Chapter 7 Guilt
Chapter 8 Still Waters
Chapter 9 A Stone in a Pond
Chapter 10 Ripples to the Shore
Chapter 11 Waves of Discontent
Chapter 12 Washed Up
Chapter 13 Troubled Water
Chapter 14 Turbulence
Chapter 15 Shadows from the Dark
Chapter 16 Lucky Breaks
Chapter 17 Back in Business
Chapter 18 Battle Stations
Chapter 19 Deep Water
Chapter 20 Turning Worms
Chapter 21 Tastes of the Past
Chapter 22 On the Move
Chapter 23 Motivation
Chapter 24 Justice
Chapter 25 View from the Precipice
Chapter 26 One Last Call
About the Author

Preface

In a world and society where everything is scrutinised, analysed and examined by way of coronial inquests, police investigations, royal commissions, senate enquires and the media, one single issue is constantly ignored and brushed aside by a gender fearing population. The issue? The effect of separation and divorce upon men and fathers. Men are raised to be tough, unemotional breadwinners and protectors. Our society has changed in so many ways, some for the better, some for the worse. The upbringing of boys and young men is still based on a historic stereotype of toughness and strength. Does our society assume that because there are no loud bleating cries for help, that there is no problem? Or does it just not hear them? On October 23rd 1998 I read the following news report.
A Perth man who was believed to be upset over a Family Court custody ruling has been found dead, along with his three children.
Police had been searching for 35 year old Ronald Jonker and his children, aged seven, five and 17 months, after he failed to return to their mother on Wednesday.
It is believed Mr Jonker was angry with a Family Court decision that awarded his wife principal custody of the children.
The four bodies were found in a car at Regan’s Ford near Gin Gin, about 90 kilometres from Perth.
ABC News. 23/10/98
In reading this small story, which was followed up later that day with the names of the children, I had to ask myself this question.
To what degree of angry or upset does a father have to become to be capable of killing not just himself, but also his children? This is not the act of anyone who is simply upset or angry. This is an act of total insanity. If this story was unusual it would be tragic. That it is not, is a disgrace to our society. This book is not about this man. It is complete and total fiction. It is about the feelings of men. Feelings they will not admit to because of their upbringing to be strong at all times.
Men have become one of the silent wheels in society. Never attracting grease. A few small voices echoing small grievances about access rights or child support payments are howled down in a tirade of ridicule. Sometimes however, there are some who can see. And ask.
‘When you consider that we have gone from virtually zero employees employed by the Child Support Agency to about 2,400 people, at a cost to the taxpayer of something approaching $130 million for an agency that has a role of saying that parent A shall pay parent B for the care of their children, you have to ask the fundamental question of whether the pendulum has swung too far.’
Mr. Wakelin, Member for Grey. (Hansard 3/6/97).
And.
‘If the custodial parent, which is more commonly the mother, is prepared to be bloody minded and won’t admit any contact with the father, it is very difficult to do much about.’
Mr. Len Glare. Family Court Chief Executive Officer. Melbourne, Herald Sun, October 6, 1995.
Are these two observations by respected people in our society the key to this whole conundrum? The balance of power? One parent has a $130 million per annum Government Agency of 2,400 staff to enforce their Family Court orders pertaining to Child Support payments. The other fights for access rights alone under the same Family Court orders, and is told nothing can be done.
Is it any wonder there are problems?
I do not profess an answer, or a remedy. My only belief is that men and fathers feel much more than our society will let them outwardly express. Has society reacted to the simplistic superficial: of showing more sympathy for someone with a pricked finger because of the drop of blood, than someone with a severe migraine? Do we have to see everything to believe it is real?
How do we see that men hurt and suffer just as severely as women in family breakdown? And in how many cases do they suffer more?

I
Places

All cities have a character, some more than others. On the west coast of Australia a city grew from a small colony first settled in 1829. With the simple act by one Mrs Dance, of chopping down a tree, the colony was officially claimed in the name of the Queen by the recently appointed Governor. He had appointed himself that morning. As Captain of the ship that bought these first settlers to this remote location, James Stirling thought it only right that he should get the top job. This colony was built on the banks of the Swan River. Named so originally by Stirling that morning because of the large number of black swans floating on the river’s surface, and the fact that Stirling had had quite enough of the tradition of naming places after English locations and places, (the New Thames River was the choice of his second-in-command). He set about his second official act; naming the colony. With the assistance and input of his newly appointed bureaucrats, the very original name selected was, The Swan River Colony, in keeping with the aforementioned river and the fact that Stirling was inexperienced at naming things. So he ran with his one original idea. His legacy would be that name. In the next two hundred years no one ever had a better idea, so, anything that needed naming would be Swan something-or-other.
It was fitting that Stirling would be remembered in years to come by the virtue of a Highway named in his memory. The Stirling Highway meanders along the banks of the Swan River, making its way directly to the doors of the Swan Brewery.
A quick glance under S in the much later to be published White Pages telephone book reveals pages of entries under Swan something Co Pty Ltd. This fashion was changed for a short period in the 1980’s by a self made and self proclaimed multi millionaire named Bond. As he went about becoming the owner of anything worth anything, he changed all the names from Swan to Bond. When it looked likely that he was going to jail, the bureaucrats of the day decided to replace all the Bond names.
After various committees and inquiries and submissions to the nomenclature board, they chose the wonderfully original idea of replacing all the things named Bond with Swan!
From the beginning, this colony had a few small geographical disadvantages. Firstly, it was located nearly 2000 miles from the nearest colony on the continent. Secondly this colony, soon to be Adelaide, hadn’t been settled yet. Thirdly, it was bound on the western side by the Indian Ocean, with its vast areas of nothing until it bumped into Africa, and to the East, the almost equally vast Nullarbor Plain and Gibson Desert. To the North was the balance of Western Australia that consisted of desert, desert and more desert, until it ran out some 2500 miles north of the colony. Then further north of that was more ocean, until Asia appeared. To the South was Antarctica. Taking this pivotal location into account, it can be gathered that the sole and driving reason for creating this colony was to have it entered in the Guinness Book of Records as the most remote colony, village, town and more recently, city, in the whole world. In this endeavour they failed. The only mention of this remote place in the Guinness Book of Records is for having the most entries in a metropolitan telephone book starting with the word SWAN!
With its very own time zone, all to itself, ranging from two hours in winter to three hours in summer, behind the rest of Australia, Perth exists within itself, for itself, by itself. Some troublemakers on the east coast have even suggested that Perth is three hours and twenty years behind, but this is a point I will leave to others to debate. To the majority of the one million or so residents of this remote city, there are only two other types of people in the world. They are Eastern Staters, being anyone who lives in Australia but not in Perth, and Foreigners, those who do not live in Australia. This simplifies a vast array of confusion that the rest of the world struggles with every day. This type of thinking would put the United Nations out of work in an instant if the world and its population were simply divided into three categories.
Perth is on its own, and is inhabited by very unique creatures. It is a place where many immigrants from many cultures came to start a new life. Very many English, Scottish and Irish immigrants came to settle in Perth. This new life began for them as soon as they learned how to complain about the number of whinging Poms there were in the city. (Poms being a collective noun for anyone born in the United Kingdom.) It is the only place in the world where one would listen to the diatribe of a recently arrived Philippine mail order bride about the level of Asian immigration and what should be done to stop it. Of course she had an attentive audience. Dinky Di something-or-others sitting around the barbecue, cans of beer in hand, all nodding in approval of her sermon. Perth has this effect on people. No matter where they come from, what ethnic or cultural background. As soon as they arrive, they are consumed with the need to complain. Once bitten by this desire, and once they get the hang of it in practice, they are accepted as a local.
Unless you happen to come from Melbourne, Victoria. It is an unfortunate fact that anyone who uproots themselves from Melbourne and relocates to Perth, will never be accepted. Perth has three suburbs set aside for these Eastern Staters. Sorrento, Duncraig and Ocean Reef. As long as these drop ins, normally only there on transfer with a national company, stay in their allotted suburbs, there is peace. However, these poor creatures do have to quietly put up with being the butt of all jokes and pranks during their stay. The rest of the world