I was a paperboy when I was 12, that's just after World War II. It was in Prahran, a suburb of Melbourne, that I threw newspapers over fences to land at the front doors of mainly cottage type dwellings.
There was the occasional 'big house' where you had to open the gate and place the newspaper on the front door mat.
Once a year we put a card in the paper: 'Christmas comes but once a year. Don't forget the paper boy.' Most customers did forget. A few didn't and somehow, either personally or via the newsagent put a few bob the paper boys way. Those were the days. A tip for 12 months services rendered, hail, rain or shine.
Christmas brings back memories. That's one of its main functions. Especially memories of people no longer with us, as we say. Christmas, therefore, is bitter sweet.
Last week a group of teenagers died in a road accident in Melbourne's west. Another group died in similar fashion in Alice Springs. Lots of families and friends and, because were all interconnected via omnipresent media, lots of strangers will have memories, this Christmas, of those young people. How will those memories be handled?
Well, this Sunday night at about 9.00 pm (est) on Triple J we'll interview Andrew Knight who's out to help us. He co-authored 'Dying to know . . . Bringing death to life'. It's a ground breaking celebration of life through 60 observations about mankind's most shared yet unspoken experience: death.
Why then, do we find it such a difficult subject to talk about? Through startling images, challenging words and striking insights, 'Dying to know' cuts through the taboos to place death firmly in the cycle of life. Quirky without being irreverent, accessible without being glib, and challenging without being disturbing, the book allows a way for families, friends and the media to frame an ongoing conversation about the nature of living and the reality of dying in a way that is engaging rather than depressing.
Now! Should I have gone there - about death, I mean? Well, the interview or the book itself just might shed light this Christmas on recent sad events and, as is likely, on disasters yet to be published.
For Catholic Christians there's a month's lead up to Christmas called Advent. Advent means arrival' (Latin, our old language, 'adventure').
We used to go without food and drink, like a little Lent. We have in churches an Advent wreath of greenery with four candles in the middle, 3 purple, 1 pink. We light one candle each weekend. Were up to 3, the pink one, this weekend.
The pink one, the happy coloured one, is a reminder that in the midst of Advent soul searching, we need to break the mindset in case it becomes oppressively sad. Even the texts of the Mass (Catholic Worship service), the vestments (Church service clothes) the singing, the whole ambience is happy. Happy feet would be good, if it was our western custom. When we lived in villages, all this worked well on the community's collective mood. Individuals found it easy to conform.
But, we now live in big towns and cities! It's extremely hard to change a neighbourhood's mood.
We achieved it locally last Sunday. We all gathered, the 'inclusive' brethren, at a local state school playground. The parents of kids at that school had invited, at year's start, the Christian education council to run religious education classes at the school, voluntary attendance, I believe.
The kids sang carols, Jesus, Mary and Joseph got a run, the hundreds present all had a whale of a time. It really worked for the spiritual awakening of all present.
Here, in this parish, we've chosen to celebrate Advent, with two big community meals - one for elderly parishioners (the eldest was 102!) and one for our 'guests', the hundred or so people, most of whom live in public housing flats or boarding houses, who come to our parish Open House (the 140-year-old mansion previously occupied by 4 resident priests).
Both of those events are spiritually uplifting for guests and hosts alike. The best gift you can give this Christmas is yourself in the service of others.