Chapter 13
Bad Luck in Three’s
In the same year as Rod Rob’s overdose Don’s brother decided he wanted
to leave school. Although his grades were above average the school’s career
advisers were as useless as ‘tits on a bullfrog’ and provided no initiative for
a continuance in study or made any effort to assist in the forming of plans for
employment. At his particular educational institution of attendance students
were not informed of the types of occupations available or of their
capabilities in achieving a career in relation to their grades; counselling was
a word almost unprecedented. Because of this deficiency in the system and the
schools neglect to supply recommendations germane to such information, he and
others became conditioned to one ambition only; to get a job and earn money -
any job. His parents wanted him to stay at school and get the best education
possible but his interests were the same as most his age; it rest in cars, women,
and money. Tim knew school could not provide those things, and his impulsive
obstinance refused to see how education could offer hope for the future, alas,
he remained adamant in refusal to change his mind. Ted and Rene had no
alternative but to give their consent and conditioned it on the stipulation he
would have a job waiting when he finally walked off the school grounds. Work
was easy to find, as long as one was not fussy. The only prerequisites demanded
for menial labour was to be fit, healthy, and display little bit of social
nous; Tim had all those attributes. The first garage he walked into, on the
first morning of job hunting, the owner showed interest in his application. It
was his lucky day because they were about to advertise for a ‘driveway attendant’.
After a few short questions he was given a realistic prospect of employment,
all the owner required was for Tim to go home and seek his parent’s consent
before induction.
Gaining meaningful employment happened much quicker than his parent’s
envisaged but were ultimately bound by their word to let him leave school. A
proud Tim gave notice to the principal and prepared for his first paying job.
There was one snag to his enthusiastic jubilation; he failed to take into
account travel to and from work. The school bus did not go into town early
enough to allow him to start at the time specified by the manager; there was
only one logical solution. Much to his parent’s displeasure he had to rely on
one of them to drive him daily, or if fortunate bum a ride with one of the few
customers stopping at the precise time for petrol or shop items. The obligation
was draining on everyone; and expensive for Tim because he was made to pay for
petrol and the time people spent on him. It was obvious to all those involved
he needed his own car, his parent’s were completely fagged-out from so much
travel and the responsibilities incommode everyone greatly.
Tim was four months short of legitimately making application for a car
license. Naturally he was anxious to acquire independence without delay, so
through his father he requested the police department give early approval of a
special license to be used in working hours. Only the police knew the
legalities of arrangement and judicial workings agreed upon, but one thing was assured,
Ted was very resourceful and would have constituted the desired input to seal
such a contract; whether his input was kosher or not was unknown to anyone but
Ted and the police. Tim could drive well, probably better than most due to the
years of practise around the open paddocks, and study of the road rules proved
easy; he was ready. When the day came to sit the test he drove into town with
Ted and Zoe as passengers. The young duty officer waiting had been informed by
his superiors of Tim’s appointment and was set to put him through his paces. On
sighting Zoe and taking an instant liking to her, he excluding duty-bound
responsibilities for the time being because she became the focus of his
attention; he could not resist persistent amorous glances while fraternising to
promote cordiality. After extensive jolly from the officer he eventually
remembered the task of his authority was to test Tim and told Zoe;
“I won’t be long. I’ll
accompany your brother for a drive around the block and be back soon.” Zoe
could not care less but replied politely with a nod in agreement. On the rushed
drive the officer asked Tim about a dozen questions, none related to the road
rules, all pertaining to his sister’s love life. Tim answered to the best of
his ability. When they finished the test the officer got out of the car,
ignored Tim and made a beeline for Zoe. With the overbearing paragon of
integrity most young policeman attempt to convey he said;
“Tim did well and should
pass.” After a brief pause he proceeded to woo her; “Would you like to go out
with me this weekend to the beach or pictures or something?” Ted stood back
watching and listening, he was well aware of his daughter’s beauty and it was
not by mistake he brought her along; it was an ingenious plan. He knew she
would take part attention away from the job at hand, no matter who the
policeman was. Zoe was pleasant to him but gave no straight forward acceptance
to his proposal;
“Thankyou, it would be nice,
but at the moment we’re really busy in the shop, every weekend actually, sorry
(the policeman’s look was one of rejection), but I’m sure I would be allowed
another day, on a weekend when times are quieter. Would another day be alright
dad?” She stared at her father.
“Yes. I’m sure we can work
something out,” answered Ted without genuine interest, he knew his daughter
adopted a strategic decorum to keep him dangling to satisfy her devilish suave
femininity; it worked and was enough to give his ego a boost. He passed Tim and
stamped his paperwork without asking any theoretical questions regarding the
road rules.
A license was the first step to easier travel, now he had to buy a car.
For a while the need to rely on others persisted because of an obligation to
pay travel fees as well as a small weekly allowance to his parents for
lodgings; it took a large slice of his pay. Unknowingly to him, the reality of
his situation implied his weekly expenditure to be cheaper than buying,
servicing and paying running costs for a car, but insightful types of judicious
reference only comes with experience, besides relying on others was seen as
overly time consuming and tedious. Nevertheless, after his weekly outlay the
remaining money would be allocated to a savings plan. He was quite stingy and
within a short time managed to save a sufficient amount to purchase a 1959
‘Goggomobile Dart’ convertible. It had a red fibreglass body with two small
seats, a toy steering wheel and was powered by a 300cc twin cylinder two stroke
engine. It ran on the smell of an oily rag, was about ten foot long, weighed
around 850lbs and revved out at a top speed of sixty five miles per hour. Like
all cheap cars of the day, mechanical malfunctions were frequent and repairs
played a vital role in getting to one’s destination, but it did the job, in-between
breakdowns it served the purpose and ended up being his pride and joy.
Everything was going well for Tim. He enjoyed his work. The staff and
management spoke highly of his likable and honest character, and of his
enthusiasm towards allocated tasks. A year into his job, half way through a
normal day his father was informed of an accident at Tim’s work. Ted wasted no
time in shutting down and locking his grader before driving home to inform
Rene; she was shattered. They felt helpless being unaware of the seriousness of
his injury and wanted to be with him, but commitments had to be considered.
Logically they took stock of the situation and determined the best option for
everyone was for Rene to stay and look after the business, as she was
accustomed while Ted went to the school to collect Don and drive through to Wollongong hospital; a good sixty miles
away. When he went to collect Don for an early finish, he told him;
“Tim’s an accident and we’re
going to the hospital to see him.” Don’s first thought was a car accident and
asked;
“What happened dad? Is he
okay?” Ted replied.
“I’m not too sure exactly,
but I think they said he shoved a screw-driver into his eye. Somehow it slipped
and went into his eye. I don’t really know but the ambulance took him to hospital.”
When they arrived Tim was still being attended to by the doctors who had not
yet received test results so information was limited. The medical staff knew
the eye had been severely damaged and were sceptical as to the possibility of
its recovery. It was well bandaged and he seemed comfortable, but his sensory
faculties were lacking orderly continuity due to the amount of drugs and
painkillers absorbed in his system to assist in the relief of somatic symptoms.
These helped put him in good spirits; unusual considering his ability to
remember all the gory details. When Don asked him what happened, he said;
“When I was doing up a hose
clip, the screwdriver slipped off and went in my eye. It didn’t hurt but when I
pulled it out and looked in the mirror a clear thick liquid mixed with blood
oozed out so I called out to Mitch (his boss) who put a rag over my eye and
called an ambulance, it didn’t hurt, just a funny tingling feeling when I
pulled it out.” Ted squirmed at the thought and tried to allay Tim’s worries
with a few kind supporting words;
“Okay, you’re in good hands
now. You’ll be okay. We won’t know much more until the doctor’s….,” he choked
with emotion and paused. “It’s getting late. We’ll head off home your mother
will be getting worried. I’ll try to come back in the morning. Will you be
okay? Is there anything you want?”
“No dad, I’ll be okay, see
ya tomorrow,” replied Tim. They waved as they left the ward. On the trip home
not much was said. It would have been difficult for Ted to take verbal refuge
in a child of Don’s age. When they got home Rene was emotionally spent. The
knowledge her son was lying in hospital without her and being oblivious to the
permanency of his injury added extra strain. She stated in categorical terms;
“We should never have let
him leave school.” Ted replied; “We
can’t blame ourselves, after all what choice did we have?” “I’m going tomorrow. Bugger the shop. We’ll
close the doors. The business can go to hell.” Zoe was unable to manage alone.
It was not safe. The next day they locked the doors and spelt out their reason
for closing by writing with a white marker on the front window. The sign read;
‘CLOSED FOR DAY DUE TO ACCIDENT IN FAMILY’.
Don went to school on the day of their visit. News from the doctor’s
diagnoses and test reports were; the eye could not be saved because the damage
done by the sharp object went right through the pupil nicking the optic nerve
then into the eyes leathery cavity at the back of the socket, it was damaged
beyond repair resulting in the eye needing exenterating immediately after the
swelling subsided. Everyone was devastated by the news but accepted the fact it
could have been worse, apparently he was fortunate the screwdriver did not
break through the orbit of the skull into the brain. His stay in hospital was a
drain on the Scotsdon’s resources and constituted a change in their work
patterns with necessary periods of absenteeism adding to the enormous stress on
finances and stability. Even following the operation and the lengthy stay in hospital
was expected months of therapy. Once the dressing was permanently removed Tim
was doomed to wear an eye patch until he could be fitted with an artificial eye
made of glass, doing nothing to improve his condition but a lot for aesthetics.
The passage of time regarding Tim’s medical care caused debilitating issues for
his parent’s until finally the months of passing slowly delivered a form of
routine. Tim was now recovering well at home therefore eliminating the
obligation of excessive amounts of travel and allowing monetary rewards to be
re-established in the business.
Ostensibly cursed, their destiny was not yet meant to be carefree it was
shaping to endure another calamity. While Tim was still in the process of
having his final fitting with a glass eye, the family were once again presented
with a misfortune, this time involving the main income earner; Ted. He enjoyed
his work with the Council immensely and was given further gratification because
the derelict WWII type ‘grader’ he operated daily had been replaced with an
up-to-date ‘Caterpillar’. This machine was a lot more advanced than the old
one. He had been operating it effectively for about six weeks when the
manufacturers decided to send a qualified instructor to his place of work to
demonstrate its workings and maintenance procedures. When he was told of this
nonsensical insult he offered opinion as to the irrational arrangement;
“Their a bit bloody late
aren’t they? I’ve been using it for months now.” A reasonable sarcasm
considering he was left alone for the past six weeks or so to figure it out for
himself. Obviously he was already accustomed to its functions and upkeep by
reading the operations manual and from the practical need of executing his work
duties; thus mocking administrations late effort as a waste of time was well
justified.
While operating the machine in his regular environment, miles away from
any town and in close vicinity to only a couple of farm houses, Ted saw the
dust billow in the distance from a vehicle approaching over the crest. There
was hardly any traffic on the road he was ‘grading’, it was only used by those
few living there so he was sure it was the person arriving to give the
demonstration. He pulled over to the side of the road, on a flat grassy area,
lowered the blade and switched off the machine. The visitor stopped and sat in
his car fiddling with papers for a while then decided to make his-self known.
When he got out of his car Ted thought he looked like a real ponce. He would
have been about mid forties and dressed in a suit minus the tie and jacket
which were both hanging from a hook in the back seat of his opulent company
vehicle. His was short and fat with hair dyed jet black, ‘Brylcreamed’ thick,
and pasted back to look like a ‘Mafia’ godfather. He moved like a bad dancer
when approaching to acquaint himself, awkwardly like he had a broomstick shoved
up his bum, and took great care to dodge any powdery dirt so as not to get his
shiny patent leather shoes dirty; he introduced himself as Cyril. Ted tried to contain
his manifestation of ridicule as he extended a spirit of friendship by shaking
his limp grip, but he could not help a muffled chuckle because Cyril spoke like
he had a plumb in his mouth. Ted thought: ‘This
bloke is definitely a pansy’.
Cyril turned out to be a real know-it-all. He wanted to exert his
authority but really had no interest in being there and gave the impression it
was an imposition to have to give instructions. Ted did not want him there
either, but had to go along with the charade. There was no pleasantries in
conversation such as; “How are you?” or “Do you live local?” etc. He simply
wanted to do what he felt he had to do and get out of there as quick as
possible. He said with a lisp;
“Firstly I’ll show you where
the grease nipples are because they are hard to find and then I’ll show you the
easy way to change the direction of the blade in rotation and various other
manoeuvres.” Ted thought to himself: ‘What
a fucking idiot’, but went along with his inanity, he reckoned the quicker
he went through his steps of monotonous and pretentious twaddle the quicker he
could get rid of him. After walking around the machine pointing to all the well
greased nipples Ted had obviously greased, he climbed up the steps into the
cabin and positioned himself in the operator’s seat.
“Stand clear,” he ordered as
he started the engine and played with a few controls as if to familiarize
his-self with their function. He eventually raised the blade and shouted out
the door while pointing; “I’m going to demonstrate blade rotation. To rotate
the blade you need to remove those two ‘cotter pins’, one on each side.” Ted
was getting angry he thought it ridiculous this person who had no idea what he
was doing was showing him basic operations and shouted back to him;
“Yea I know what the pins
are for.” But there was no stopping him he carried on regardless with idiotic
instructions;
“Now pull them both out so I
can demonstrate the various angles of blade positioning.” Ted was hesitant
about getting near the machine with him at the controls and later regretted
ignoring his own judgment. To remove the pins it was necessary to stand in what
he knew was a precarious and dangerous position but thought nobody could be
stupid enough to touch the controls whilst he was doing the task asked of him;
he was wrong. As Cyril got off the seat and went to shout a command out the
door he bumped a lever forward just enough to drop the razor sharp blade on
Ted’s toes; both feet were jammed tight between the soft ground and the hard
blade. He screamed out in agonising pain;
“Aaahh, you fuckin’ idiot,
get it off, lift it up; lift it up.” Cyril panicked and took what seemed ages
to decide which lever to pull to raise the blade. Finally he raised it twelve
inches and turned the engine off. Ted dropped to the ground in agony. Cyril
went to his aid shaking, apologetic, and addled in mind;
“Are you okay? Sorry, I’m
sorry, sorry.” Ted had ‘gum boots’ on at the time. They were steel capped
safety boots. The force of the blade crushed the steel section bending it into
his toes, therefore jamming the boots on. He was a little fortunate in the
fact; under his feet lay soft grass and uneven ground, but this was not enough
to escape permanent injury. The discomfort of blood loss was evident when he
saw red fluid oozing out through the cuts in his boots, Cyril was totally
useless and tried to pull the boots off hurting him even more. Ted screamed at
him;
“Fuck off, you’ve done
enough damage. Lock the grader, get me to your car and take me to a doctor.”
The pain was more than he could bear or he would have driven his own car just
to be free of Cyril. Once in the safety of a doctor’s care they filled him with
morphine and cut away his boots. His toes stayed mostly connected to his feet
but two on the left foot could not be saved and the rest were broken with deep
lacerations through to the bone. They reckoned if he was not wearing ‘steel
caps’ he would have had all his toes chopped off. Needless to say he never saw
Cyril again. When he saw Rene his sense of humour returned with words of
comedy;
“This is the only time in my
life I’m glad to see the arse end of a poof.”
Another lengthy stay in hospital for another family member, the primary
breadwinner, guaranteed this accident not only had physical consequences, it
also added oodles to the economic and mental anguish of the recent events they
were striving so hard to recover from. The repercussions of such stupidity
seriously affected their income and they found it impossible to repay debt.
When he was released from hospital the injuries took a long time to heal, and
while lying idle at home he underwent traumatic assumptions, those being; he
was letting the family down because he was sitting around being mollycoddled.
To add to his troubles, compensation in the form of weekly pay was not
forthcoming for four weeks and when it did arrive it was not full pay because
he was only entitled to part-payment. There were no total indemnification or
insurance policies to claim from and he still had to pay for medications and
travel. Suing for negligence within the realm of existence was not popularised
as it was in American society, besides it would never enter the mind of most
those days, he was from the old school in which patriotism and loyalty was
perceived as essential to the welfare of good relations; later he would regard
such a view as ridiculous. Alas as always they lived day by day, weathered the
storm and survived another dismal affliction from trying so hard to hinder and
impede their struggle to bolster a comfortable lifestyle. The Scotsdon’s were
tainted with unnecessary and unforeseen troubles resulting from unfortunate
events. Each step of progression was thwarted by frustrating and damaging
influences. Ted was not healing as quickly and as satisfactorily as he wished,
yet there was no alternative, he had to go back to work early. The doctor
opposed his decision and told him more recuperation time was necessary. Ted
convinced him otherwise and considering his employer was not bound by rules to
supply less demanding work limiting his involvement to ‘light duties’, he went
back to his normal job and endured the pain.
Shortly after, within the same year, Don was on one of his usual weekend
outings at Sam’s. The three of them Don, Sam and Weepy made a catapult each. It
was normal play for them to invent and use imagination, each was proficient in
the construction of such toys. A green fork in a tree limb would be cut, the
longest being the handle and the other two shanks used for knotting the rubber
strap between them. The wood was debarked, a groove cut in the top of both
shanks, and the rubber cut to size from a bike or car tube. It was cut into a
one inch thick strip, thin enough for an easy but strained retraction. In the
middle of the rubber band would be a two inch square piece of leather to hold a
missile, usually a stone or glass marble, but this was not always part of the
assembly as it worked just as well without the leather attachment. They were
powerful toys and could easily break the thick porcelain conductors forty foot
up the wooden poles holding the overhead electric cables, naturally this was
not the sole purpose of their creation, they would be fired at anything seen as
fun. One main target was the cicada. Every primary student learnt about the
Cicada, an insect similar to a grasshopper or locust but much larger, with bulb
type eyes set wide apart and transparent conspicuous thick veined wings. Most
names of the Cicada species were tested in exams, such as: ‘cherry nose’,
‘brown baker’, ‘red eye’, ‘green grocer/green monday’, ‘yellow monday’, ‘whisky
drinker’, ‘double drummer’ and ‘black prince’. The ‘green grocer’ is amongst
the loudest insect in the world, all as one they resonate a unique sound, and
in season, in abundance, singing in unity, they present a deafening shrill
humming tone. They do not usually bite or sting but do have a long proboscis
used for feeding and sucking and Don knew from experience of the pain
associated when it pierced human skin, but this was a rare occurrence.
Due to the seasonal infestation of these insects, Don and his friends
felt no guilt in their butchery; still, it did not take long to become bored
with such easy prey so the games often turned into a war between themselves. In
their pursuit of fun and games the dangerous pastime of firing at each other
demanded instinctive reflexes when ducking for cover. This day they entered a
dry creek bed covered by a double concrete culvert supporting the main road.
The idea of the game was for each person to station himself at different
positions and shoot end to end and along the edges of the concrete shell;
hiding, running, using their prowess to claim victory over the other with a
direct hit. Stones were flying everywhere, stinging the body and leaving red
welts, then just as Don poked his head out and around the edge of the wall to
take aim, Weepy had loaded his weapon and pulled the rubber back to release a
shot; he was in pursuance of a counterattack. As he did, in one split second, a
stone ricocheted off the wall and deflected into Don’s right eye. The pain was
excruciating, he fell to the ground with both hands clasped over his eye and
cried and howled without stop. Weepy and Sam had no qualms in continuing firing
at each other, they considered a direct hit to be the purpose of the game, but
Don’s wailing and lack of participation gave insight to his predicament and
eventually they helped him to his feet and assisted him in walking back to the
closest house; Weepy’s place. Mrs Rob was never in perfect health but managed
to bathe and cleanse Don’s eye as best she could; she could do no more, they
did not have a phone or car, nor did anyone else living in close proximity.
Sterge was present and commented as to how much of a ‘sissy’ Don was for the
constant whimpering. The other two soon got bored and left him inside with Mrs
Rob and went back outside to play. He wanted desperately to go home to the
comfort of his family and knew the only way was to walk. After saying his
farewells, still crying, he began the long walk. With one agonizing mile
travelled by foot and one more to go, his brother, whom was driving home from
town, saw him staggering head down and holding his hand over one eye. Don was
never more pleased to see his brother. They drove home as fast as the ‘Dart’
could go.
His parents took him to hospital. The medical staff saved his eye but
the force of a direct hit ruptured the retina which rendered it a serious
injury because the vitreous liquid leaked through the tear and pooled under the
retina resulting in permanent defective vision. The corollary of the injury was
a hole in the pupil leaving two black dots (pupils) in the one eye and a loss
of twenty percent vision. It was a stupid, avoidable, and inauspicious incident,
another catastrophe for Don’s parents who still had not found a state of
equilibrium from past mishaps. As parents do, they accepted the fact choices
were non-existent and tolerated the situation to go on living day by day. Don
was considered to be lucky by the doctors when comparing his injury to his
brother’s loss of an eye, but for his family any thoughts of blessings gave no
solace to tangible results; after three accidents in one year in one family
they could not believe their string of bad luck. To make matters worse Ted was
off work suffering from Malaria more frequently than past attacks. It seemed as
if ‘lady luck’ had forsaken them. Finances were dwindling to catastrophic
levels due to Ted’s sick days at home, and the necessity for medical attention
incurred more expense than the income from the shop could provide; transport
expenses, medications, and a slump in business trade all souring to what seemed
insurmountable heights. Rene’s devout faith was being tested, her doubts
relayed inner contradictions, waning her pietistic values; the rest of the
family simply wondered what else could go wrong?
Dejected, demoralized, and filled with disheartenment and gloom brought
about a determination, a fighting spirit and belief things would change for the
better. Life has a way of flexing ones faith from the doldrums to possibilities
of hope and fulfilment. Just as they hit rock bottom, and with wishes of
optimism and good fortune, they purchased a lottery ticket. At last, they were
blessed with a two thousand pound win. The money was a welcome relief. It was
not enough to settle all liabilities but sufficiently conducive to easing
mental and fiscal strain; it helped alleviate the aggressive debt collectors,
allowed freedom from stress, gave them breathing space, and afforded peace of
mind. Once necessities were taken care of a treat was in store, Ted purchased a
wireless and stereo combination to replace the old box radio, with it came a
record titled; ‘South Pacific’, and they played it over and over and over again
until it was too scratched to work. The windfall offered the rare experience of
a positive outlook and served to encourage enthusiasm.
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