born five minutes too late

Happy April 1!

The Deadline

I’ve been thinking about my Dad a lot lately and his dark sense of humour and how he engaged humour to soften the blow of difficult times – as the best medicine. Interesting for a man born on the 1st of April 1923 and who resented that date for the rest of his life. CW: low level discussions of end of life conversations.

My Dad joked at the most inappropriate times, but always made it about the ridiculousness of the situation instead of mocking the people in it.

He would often tell me how much he disliked people who played ‘practical jokes’ on people. Being born of the 1st April and growing up in the 1920’s and 30’s in the Collingwood/Fitzroy are of Melbourne meant he never got to experience a birthday that wasn’t filled with anxiety about what someone might do to him in the name of joke.

My father Jack, standing mid way up a very large Eucalyptus tree.  He appears to be late teens, going by other photos I have of him with dates, late 1930's.  This photo is probably a bit telling about future careers, aircrew on Liberator Squadron no. 24 in WWII, seismic line working with CSIRO through remote Australia and a career maintaining and repairing remote lighthouses with the Australian Lighthouse Service.   Come to think of it, these careers were largely away from people and likely linked to his view 'people are the problem' approach to the world.

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