| Rob in front of the 'red zone' |
.... Sometime in the 1980's.
The phone was hung up with a slam rather than a gentle hanging up. It was a 70's era wall-phone and the give in the plastic immediately bounced the handset back out of the cradle.
"Keating is a f***ing prat. He's more right-wing than f***ing Fraser was".
My mother had quite a way with words. The Keating that she was talking about was the then federal treasurer Paul Keating who she was lobbying for funding for disabled services. Before she developed Multiple Sclerosis my mother was ferociously passionate about politics and social justice, and a champion swearer. Both characteristics that she passed on to me, however that's a story for another blog entry.
After she developed MS, she was just the same, but a lot more focused. Comparing Keating to former Prime Minister Malcolm Fraser was, for members of the Australian Labor Party like her, an extreme insult. Keating would eventually become Prime Minister of Australia and my mother's campaigning would one day be part of the foundation of what was to eventually become the 'National Disability Insurance Scheme'.
Later, my mother would proudly hang a letter of thanks from Keating (by then the prime minister of Australia) on the wall next to her recliner. As if to put Keating in his place, his letter was over-shadowed by another frame above his the contained a thank-you from Nelson Mandela.
My mother was ferocious when it came to politics. She was loaded to the hilt with insecurities (just like me), but in debate she could verbally rip people apart.
My sister and I were in training from a very early stage in the art of politics. My parent taught my primary school aged sister and myself how to campaign against a new rule the school had brought in that required kids to spend one lunch time a week cleaning up rubbish from the school yard. We petitioned the school with signatures from other students that had barely learned to write their name, and we'd brewed up unrest amongst the students. Soon something that started out as an exercise in learning about politics came dangerously close to having a real impact. The school attempted to ban the petition, but my sister and my 11 year old self asserted our civil liberties and soon parents were questioning the administration why their kids were being used as garbage collectors.
A school council meeting was organised, and my parents were summoned. My father was part of that council which made things interesting, and by the end of the evening certain provisions were offered in lieu of cessation of the petition. I got a lesson in the complexities of politics, and the school was able to go back to teaching kids how to care and be responsible for their environment.