Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Childhood (09/03/09)
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TITLE: The joys of being the son of a Minister of Religion | Previous Challenge Entry
By Graeme Fox
09/05/09 -
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Much of my childhood memory is centered upon the fact that Dad was the local Presbyterian Minister and that, in the most part, had many disadvantages to a young bloke growing up in the fifties and sixties.
There were, of course, some advantages especially during my teen years two of which I will recount for your amusement.
My seventeenth birthday was anxiously anticipated, for, on that glorious day, I was entitled to apply for and if successful; receive a piece of paper that would guarantee my freedom. The hitch was that I had to first pass a driving test.
This was normally a very scary and daunting experience.
On my birthday, my Dad and I arrived at the registry office at the appointed time. As I busied myself with the careful placement of L plates front and back Dad, in full clerical garb, greeted the approaching examiner.
The conversation went something like this.
“Hello Ken is that your boy”
“Yes Barry and I trained him myself. You won’t have to worry too much about him”
“Oh ok Ken that’s good”
“By the way Barry haven’t seen you at church lately but I’m sure you will be there in the next week or so”
“Sure thing Ken see ya there.”
I passed with flying colors but I’m sure I never saw Barry at church.
The second example is also driving related.
After a game of tennis with the Church of England youth group my mate and I decided to test our cars on the way back to the coffee shop.
I executed a beautiful four wheel drift around a right hand corner.
What my mate saw before the corner, only came to my attention when I noticed the flashing blue lights behind me.
My license was duly handed to the stern faced constable who read my address aloud.
“Presbyterian Manse Mona Vale”
“Yes Sir”
“We thought you had been drinking”
“Oh no officer I’ve been playing tennis with the Church of England youth group”
What followed was a stern and complete lecture on safe driving practice but I drove off slowly, with no fine, and my license unscathed.
Needless to say all the occupants of all the cars that passed me during the lecture wished that they could have that address on their licenses.
Probably the biggest disadvantage was the effect my Dad’s profession had on my un-churched school mates.
I was singled out for the most severe bullying and constantly had to hide, or lie about, the bloody nose or the black eye that was often the outcome.
Also, when my behavior at school, warranted me being bent over a desk for a couple of well deserved swats with a paddle the teacher would remark
“You know we honestly expected better behavior from the son of a minister.”
Unfortunately in small country towns in those days the teachers, police seargent and other prominent members of society were regular members of Dads church so you could bet your boots that after Sunday services my seat of learning would get yet another lesson on how, my behavior, affected (usually negatively) Dad’s standing in the community.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my Dad and am devastated that he now has to spend his last days in a wheel chair in a nursing home.
I would not change a thing and I am very grateful for all the lessons learnt during my childhood.
They have been the firm foundation on which I have built my life for which I praise God.
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