Can You Hear Me Harry

My mate Dave from Queensland rang me yesterday morning, 19 Feb 2022. I first met Dave in 1974, when I went from Victoria to attend the Queensland Agricultural College at Gatton, about and hour west of Brisbane. I was 21 years old, approaching 22. Dave was 17. I remember he turned 18 during the year as he obtained his driving licence, satisfying a long held ambition, one that most of us have had, and achieved. I’m approaching 70 years old now, so Dave would be 66 this year.

Dave rings me quite regularly about every 6 months. I’m always pleased to hear from him, but this time I felt quite chuffed. I had been thinking of him, mindful that I am somewhat negligent, in that Dave rings me, not the other way around usually. I have a number of good friends, most of whom I rarely see these days, but when I think of them I realize that my life would have been so much less interesting, less meaningful, less rewarding without them. After our initial exchange of pleasant enquiry into health and well being, Dave said. “Will (he always called me Will), did you ever write that book you once told me you were going to write?” I replied that I did write a book, about an old friend who had an interesting life, including being captured by the Germans on Crete and spending four years on a POW camp in Germany. It never made it to publishing.

“No not that,” he said. “You said you used to put things away, letters, and write things down, because you said one day you’d like to write a book. You always had a good turn of words. The reason I ask, is because I wanted to send you a book to read, but I don’t know your new address, and that made me think about what you said.”

He told me about the book he wanted to send, ‘The Northern Territory’, but said he couldn’t send it now, as he’d lent it to a friend from grammar school in Longreach whom he hadn’t seen for 50 years, but caught up with recently, and it was like 50 years just disappeared and they talked and talked as if it was yesterday. He’ll send it when he gets it back. We talked for 15 minutes or so and I finished by saying,

“Dave, thanks for ringing. Makes me feel so good. I’ve been thinking over my life quite a bit lately, as you do approaching old age. I cringe a little at times, at the mistakes I’ve made, the boozing, there’s a lot I’m not happy about in the past. I’ve been alcohol free for two years and I see life differently. But you ringing me shows that you don’t hold it against me, the wild stupidity, the bravado, the foolishness. And if you don’t, I shouldn’t feel bad about it either.”

He said, “Isn’t that what they say about good dogs, they always stay your mate.”

I had to laugh, but there and then I decided. “Yes, Dave, It’s time to write that book. I will do it.”

How I do it, or the format it will take, I don’t know. It will take some mind mapping. Dave and other friends will be part of the story. They are interesting people with good stories of themselves. The title that springs to mind is ‘Can You Hear Me Harry’. I’ll probably start there, to get me going.