Pigeonholes

Copyright © 2013 by Bauple.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 06/17/2013

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Contents

Preface

Floor 7

The King

Country Bumpkin

Sea Changers

Farmer

Single Mother

Playboy

The Politician

Floor 6

Opposites Attract

Keeping the Faith

Family

Larrikin

Impressionable Teenagers

The War Veteran

Prodigal Father

Floor 5

Military Morons

Time Heals All Wounds

The Academic

University Student

The Graduate

Mixed Messages

Good Karma

Floor 4

Take Two

Behind Every Good Man

Morals and Ethics

History Repeats

The Rosetta Stone

On the Waterfront

Natural Progressions

Floor 3

Holy Toledo

Getting the Answers

Heading North

Relocating

Just a Number

Going with the Flow

Books and Their Covers

Floor 2

The Leviathan

On the Hustings

Making a Difference

Travel Broadens the Mind

Sorry

Entrepreneur

What a Coincidence!

Floor 1

Stock Exchange

Small World

Paperback Writer

Pigeonholes

Down on the Farm

This Is the End

Preface

He is a banker, she is a mother, they are rednecks, and he is a terrorist. We seem to know these things just by looking at a person, and we haven’t even spoken to them yet. To give our society a meaningful reality, we place all items (including people) into little boxes. If we can’t categorise it, then it doesn’t exist. If it does exist but has no category, then you make up a category to cater for it; this explains why ‘Middle of the Road’ and ‘Urban’ are musical categories. Is perception reality? I certainly hope not, or we may indeed live in the best of all possible worlds.

Our perception guides us through life. How we remember and identify people, what we think of them, and our first impressions are all guided by this sense. Is that person that you categorise as a banker thought of as a banker to his neighbour or his mother? Has he always been a banker?

Before all the existentialists get excited, the world is a complex-enough place as it is without another theory of reality. What is true is that from the individual’s point of view, they are normally unaware of the pigeonhole they have been placed in by others or, more generally, by the society. What is also true is they (unless they are a banker) will also move between categories throughout their lives and be different things to different people at different times (see how I display my prejudices against Bankers). We also know that they can be different things to different people at the same time. So, if we know all this, why do we persist with profiling, categorising, stereotyping, and immediately judging the books by their covers? (Hope you liked the cover.)

I think… !

No, read the book and make up your own mind.

Floor 7

The King

However—we have our exits and our entrances and one man in his time plays many parts. More than he dreams of, poor darling. And I am entirely at a loss for a moral!¹

Joe had just finished brunch in his deluxe suite on the river at Kangaroo Point. The combination of raisin toast and asparagus was still dancing on his tongue as he stopped the waltz with his tomato juice with Worcester sauce. He had only moved into the newly refurbished apartments two months ago. The units were by no means the newest or the tallest, but because of their vintage, they had one of the best views of the bridge and the city. Joe was particularly contented today although he did not know why. He called to his wife who did not answer. She must be out getting the paper, as was her want on a lazy Sunday morning in what had just become Australia’s second largest city. Joe was anxious to see the critics’ reviews of his latest novel; although, the way he felt meant that it must be favourable.

The king took his juice and decided to survey his kingdom from the balcony. He gazed over the glistening waters of the Brisbane River and thought what an interesting journey it had been to get to this point in time.

Joe was now in his early fifties and had all the trappings of success. He was considered to be a writer by most who knew him. The father of two had a devoted wife and close family. Although to the outside world things looked very good, Joe Candide was not happy. He thought that, being a writer, he was prone to mood swings and unhappiness and that was just the way it was for ‘his kind’. But today was one of his good days; he was in tune with the universe. He felt good, and nothing was going to ruin that today. He put both hands firmly on his lofty dais and took a deep breath.

The metal-topped, glass-filled rail that had been corroding rapidly, since being erected in 1983, supported his full weight. The block of apartments had been the only ones in the neighbourhood that were completed by a Sydney developer called D. Wright and Sons. The workmanship was far from satisfactory, and the rapid corrosion of the top rail was the tip of the iceberg. Unfortunately for Joe, it was the part of the iceberg that was seven floors above the waterline.

Joe’s fall from the heavens was as spectacular as his rise to it. His mind was racing now like never before. Falling to your death was definitely an adrenalin rush few get to savour fully if enjoyed at all. What had happened throughout his life was now flashing before his eyes.

Country Bumpkin

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.²

The country is any area outside of our cities. This broad definition means that when city folk get to the outer suburbs, they think they are in the country. The people who live in the outer suburbs think they are in the country if they travel an hour up the road, and the people who live in the country think they are close to the city when they compare themselves to people in the outback. The people in the outback don’t care either way. Depending on the size of your map, you may well be from the country and not know it. The exact boundary where people get smarter or more sophisticated is not drawn on any of these maps, so generalisation is not yet an exact science. It is being worked on though. There was a preconception and prejudice that was common at the time that all people from the country were stupid, ignorant folk. This was only held by people who did not think that they actually lived in the country, of course.

Joe Candide spent his youth growing up in the country.

His childhood was a very happy one as he was blissfully unaware of where the ‘stupid’ boundary was. His parents had been happily married for all the time he had known them and possibly before that. He did find it difficult to comment on things he knew nothing about, so the issue of his parents’ happiness before his birth was never one that he thought much about. He shared this simple philosophy with some old, ugly, barefooted Greek guy who had lived a long time ago. He didn’t yet know who this Greek guy was because coming from the country meant he was uneducated. This was just as well, as the old Greek guy ended up being knocked off by the government of the day because of his views on society. It was, therefore, safer to remain in the dark on such matters. His ability not to think to deeply about things he knew nothing about was further evidence of his incompatibility with city folk.

Joe lived with his younger brother and older sister on a property that had all the charm and activity required by him. It had a stony creek in the south paddock, lots of trees in the north paddock, but nothing much in the top paddock. Had Joe been aware of all the disadvantages he had compared to the urban dweller, then he may have found life a bit tougher. It was a good thing for his parents that they never discussed these issues with young Joe and left him in his ignorance and bliss.

The farm life was very agreeable to the Candide family, and they produced some of the finest cattle in the region. Greg and Kay had done a good job with the simple task of growing cattle. They even considered it to be a business. This pride they had in their business achievements was the same felt by other business owners whether they lived in either the country or the city—how strange!

Joe grew steadily in this peaceful environment and was kept busy with school, chores, and sport. The days passed quickly as Joe learnt to brand, dip, and muster cattle. His body was toned and fit, and his mind was full of dreams of the future.

Ahhh, the future.

Alas poor Joe did not know that his future was already mapped out. It was a simple choice of taking over the farm, being sent to boarding school, or moving to the city to get a lowly paid job. This streamlining of career options for the youth in the country had saved the state education system millions of dollars in career-guidance counsellors for many years.

What was normally a complicated issue for adolescents in the city had been simplified for country folk since the Industrial Revolution. Joe knew about the Industrial Revolution because he went to school in Australia. Australia was an odd country at this time because it spent a lot of time teaching students about the rest of the world as opposed to a lot of time teaching students about their own country. It was something to do with the shame of being so young in European historical terms. After all, we are talking of over two thousand years since the streets of Rome resounded to the words of Cicero and Seneca. It was even longer ago than that when the ugly, barefooted guy was pounding the streets of Athens.

About 50 km from Joe’s farm was a gorge. In this gorge, there were some gorgeous frescos skillfully projected on to a cliff by early Australian artists some 3,500 years ago (a really long time ago). These seemed to have aged much better than Michael’s best pieces, but this has a lot to do with the weather in Australia. It always seemed most intriguing to Joe that the oldest, driest continent on earth, having ancestors of a people 40,000 years old, was not considered to have any substantial world history yet? These puzzling thoughts didn’t last long, as Joe presumed that wiser men then he must have already thought about this stuff and must have made a decision that they weren’t important.

The Industrial Revolution had ensured that Joe was to be bound for the city when he came of age. When Joe became aware of this fact, it didn’t depress him; rather, it was something that he was indeed looking forward to.

The tales of the city had made their way back to Joe through school friends who had visited the city or had relatives living there. Even the Candides had relatives who had visited. The extraordinary excitement that everyone felt when he or she spoke of the place made it seem so special in the imagination of any country bumpkin. The negative side of the city was never expressed by people who had lived there because they never seemed to return. It was only the ones who had never actually visited the city that had nothing good to say. According to Joe and his philosophy, receiving advice from these people would be hard to accept, as they clearly could have no idea what they were talking about. The Greek guy had always said that if you do not know about something, ‘constant enquiry of people who do know about it is the best way to find out’.³

There were some people in the district who had retired from the city and moved to smaller hobby farms. Joe’s dad, Greg Candide, had always looked down on these sea changers. They were, after all, city slickers who had no idea or right to be on his turf. This was particularly pertinent for Greg Candide, as his neighbour had just sold up and allowed these people to move next door. If they are not going to do anything useful with the land besides grow trees and encourage native animals, then they aren’t even contributing to the economy. Although Joe’s father had planted the prejudicial seeds, Joe knew that these people had lived for a long time in the city, and according to his philosophy, they would be a good source of information. Joe had decided that he should do as much research as he could on the subject of the city before he came of age and had to move there. The only logical course of action was to enquire with the sea changers.

Sea Changers

They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.⁴

Sebastian and Cynthia Rothbottom had moved into the place next door to the Candides. The place they had purchased had been part of a much larger farm but had been cleverly subdivided by the owner when all his kids departed for the city and left the nest empty. They had divided the place into twenty-acre lots and had already sold three of the ten through a city real estate agent. This they had found a lot easier than battling drought and flood for an inheritance that their children didn’t seem to want. Sebastian and Cynthia moved in three weeks ago, and Greg had done the right thing and gone and introduced himself. This he did in spite of not liking any sea changers full stop. He was proud of how tolerant he had become! Joe knew that his dad had already introduced himself and felt that he could now visit without too much fuss being made of it.

No sooner had Joe walked down the long and winding road to his neighbours’ place than a voice came from under the newly erected trellis where the sauvignon grapes were being planted.

‘Hello there, young man,’ was the formal welcome of the slightly grey figure of Sebastian Rothbottom. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I am Joe Candide from next door. I thought that I would come over and introduce myself,’ said the confident youngster.

‘Yes, yes, Joe. I met your father the other week, splendid fellow. Cynthia! Oh, Cynthia, we have a visitor,’ bellowed Sebastian.

As was the practice in the country, Cynthia made her introduction and hurried off to get some biscuits, lemonade, and scones. It was all very exciting for Cynthia, as she had only forced herself to bake pumpkin scones three weeks ago. She was anxious to try them out on someone other than Sebastian, who was duty-bound to like them. Joe thought that the sea changers had certainly learnt the country hospitality thing rather quickly. He would have to mention this to his father if he decided to tell him of his visit.

‘What brings you to Shangri-La?’ beamed an inquisitive Mrs Rothbottom.

Joe explained that his father had told him that they had come from the city and had moved to the country to retire. He had been