That's Oliver with Rudolf Rautenbach and Faan Geyser. Faan is such a wonderful man.
October 29, 2019
What
rhymes with 12? I normally make the title a pun or a reference to
something. This worked well for Oliver over the years, it's his poor
brother who doesn't get the witty titles because his old man doesn't
have the creative juices to think of another clever one. Oliver is 12.
This is the last year where his age has a unique number, unique in the
sense that from next year on he will be either a teen or a twenty etc.
As I write this the Springboks have just made it into the rugby world
cup final against England. Oliver was born just after the last time the
Springboks became world champions in 2007, how much more luck does that
team need!
Watching Oliver grow is the finest experience any parent could wish for. Watching him grow up with his brother and take his brother under his wing is something that shows the depth of character that my eldest son possesses.
As with each year in Oliver's life, he has faced a number of challenges and risen above them, sometimes with ease and other times by demonstrating sheer grit. I look at this little boy that I met 12 years ago and realise that he's not a little boy. He is physically big, a broad shouldered boy with a sharp wit and an intellect that leaves me struggling to keep up. Our little boy is now en route to becoming a young man. He does stand out on a physical level, he might not be the tallest in his grade but his physique seems to be more defined than his peers. This has a lot to do with the extraordinary amount of time he spends on the sports field or practicing sport in the garden. He's also lost a lot of weight in the last 10 months.
It's been another year of extreme learning curves, but one which has been easier emotionally than the last few. He's now found a few like-minded boys that he regards as his close friends. It's that concept of finding your tribe and I think Oliver is starting to do that. I have said this a few times on this blog but I see massive parallels between myself and Oliver. I don't have his grit and I am certainly not as academically gifted as he is. We are similar in how we settled down with people that we regard as our friends. Oliver's wit is sharp and he is extremely knowledgeable about subjects close to his heart – which is inevitably sport related, although he did impress the socks off some dread disease academic with his knowledge of phages whilst on holiday in April. Last year he found some bloke looking at the Premier league scores on the Gautrain and Oliver launched into a discussion with the man about who the best team was and why that person's team was a poor choice. Perhaps his forthright nature doesn't gel all that well with the rank and file in his grade at school, but it is always a mental workout for us. These are lessons that he has to learn and I expect that he may come in for a fair amount of heartache and disappointment in the coming years because of his strong opinions. It's all a learning curve, a curve that I still haven't negotiated fully.
Sport is Oliver's passion (other than a voracious appetite for reading – he devours books) and he has played in the higher teams in his grade in almost all the ball sports. He had a brilliant first term in the B cricket team, earning himself man of the match in this last game. He's a head player, and knows enough about strategy to know how to mix up balls when he bowls. He hasn't yet equaled his batting high score from last year, but the cricket season is not yet over. He did however make the A team for rugby, and as a front row player he scored a large number of tries. He started out as a prop but was changed to hooker when it was discovered that the hooker was more interested in pushing the scrum as opposed to actually hooking.
One story really stands out for me. I was forced to sit through some Marvel movie that was at least 3 hours (or years) long. There was one scene where the Iron Man character says "I am Iron Man". There I was in the cinema singing that most famous riff – duh duh dadadaa, dadadadaaa duh duh duh (apparently Sabbath will block this post if I even sing it - best listen to the link whilst you can). At once father and son had seen eye to eye on music. I taught Oliver to play that riff on the piano (which my friend Ian says comes from the Phrygian mode) and he decided that it was his favourite song. Back to the rugby, he was in the line out when the opposing team called for an iron man. Oliver starts singing that famous riff, their jumper looks at Oliver and the ball bounced off his head into the hands of Oliver's team.
There are other little quirks to Oliver's personality that make him a very unique young man. He was the first in his school to get his old man up on the stage to play along with him at a concert (something his headmaster noted and then commented that is was a pleasant surprise to see his old man still playing an instrument at such an advanced age!). Being somewhat like me he likes to wing things, sort of "I know this, I'll just make it up as I go along.". His marks show that that is not the best way to go about things, but when he does prepare – then it's a different story. Still his personality and quirkiness wins over many people. I have work colleagues who ask after him every time I see them.
Happy 12th birthday my wonderful Oliver. This is an important year for you, because it really does become the beginning of the end of your easy childhood existence. Your body is going to change, you'll find it difficult to talk to girls and the like. Your academic smarts, grit on the sportsground and general demeanour will get you through it. You have the tools and now is the time to make them work for you. I love you and will be there for you as you enter your teenhood (as hard and trying as that may be for a father that can barely tolerate the sound of a washing machine). You have been, and remain a vital part of our lives as a son and a brother and a grandson.
What would these posts be without the references to Peter Green, Ollie Halsall and Denny Laine.
Peter Green is still alive and 73 years old today. That's quite an innings for someone who was effectively burnt out at the age of 23. It's a known fact that Green's reputation was made during the last four years of the 1960s. I still return to those recordings and am almost always bowled over by some other aspect of his music that I may not have paid much attention to in the past.
The Clown is a post Fleetwood Mac tune. One of those songs that cheers me up when I might need it. I think to a certain extent Oliver fits the song's narrative. He is big bounce backer.
Ollie Halsall. Similar to Green in terms of brilliance but just dumb and very dead. Who picks up a needle in their 40s, I ask you with tears streaming down my face. Olllie did and now he is no more. But he did leave us with a sizable canon to choose from. This track was described by my friend, the multi instrumentalist, Guy Mann-Dude as the best guitar solo ever recorded. He's right, Ollie moves from Clapton to somewhere else in 59 seconds. That somewhere else is now well known, but in 1971 it was beyond the stratosphere – I never get bored listening to it. Here's Parker Goessling showing us how ridiculously hard it is to play.
Colin Blunstone - Say you don't mind
Denny Laine – he was inducted into the rock 'n roll hall of fame with Moody Blues you know. Still he is best known as Paul McCartney's partner in Wings. I see that there are more YouTube videos of him coming out, many of them very recent. He's a great musician and a solid influence on me. This is probably his best known song, recorded by Colin Blunstone. Blunstone is the vocalist for the Zombies (anyone remember "Time of the Season"?). A beautiful voice - Oliver is almost there in terms of a beautiful voice.
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