Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants.

Epictetus - 50 AD - 135 AD.

Ah, it’s book week. That time of the year, every year, when parents of primary school-aged children, who have known me for years, send me photos of their adorable children dressed up as their favourite book character and remind me of a “woe is me” story I told them from my childhood.

My parents never really cared about us fitting in as children, and it seemed as though the intent was to make us stand out. Not in the Air Jordan’s kind of way, but in whatever the opposite of Air Jordan’s is.

My op shop soccer boots were shin-high, and I felt the only thing missing from them was the callipers.

Soccer boots were only a concern, because all the other boys played rugby league, which we were not allowed to play. The average loss of our below-average soccer team was 8-0

Where across the course of your day today, could you consider where it might be that you look to the struggles of your youth as character-building drivers, rather than anchoring excuses?

On the day of this memorable book parade, all the students got changed in the change rooms, just before the parade, and I was there with nothing in my school bag, other than a pair of torn shorts and an old t-shirt with holes in it.

I donned the apparel, filled a plastic shopping bag with soil and smeared mud all over my arms and legs and through my hair.

As the parade commenced, I took my place in the queue and began the walk barefoot, parading in front of all the parents who were to guess which book character we were.

There was some confusion as to which character I was portraying, and all of a sudden, the school principal yanked me out of the lineup and asked me in no uncertain terms, “What the bloody hell are you doing?” I stammered, “What?” and he asked, “What book character are you supposed to be portraying?”

I have neglected to mention that I was grabbing a handful of dirt from the plastic shopping bag I was carrying, and throwing a handful of it over my muddy headful of hair, every few steps.

“I’m Pig Pen!” I proudly replied.

“Who the hell is Pig Pen?” He yelled for all the world to hear.

“He’s from the Charlie Brown Comics!”

He then shouted in my 4 ft 2 in face:

“Charlie Brown is not a book! You are an embarrassment to this entire school!”

I had been made aware of my height the day before, because we were to line up from the shortest to tallest, and this was measured and marked on a notepad for the parade.

Where across the course of your day today, could you consider where it might be that the behaviour of some of the adults of your youth says more about them than it does about you?

This principal did a lot worse things to me than this public abuse, one of them was tearing the shirt from my back as he threw me into a blackboard for swapping places with a girl, in teams he was setting up for a wet-weather indoor sports day. He did replace my shirt with a brand new one, so I didn’t have much to complain about at the time.

It wasn’t until 10 or so years later, when I bumped into the first girl I ever kissed, (behind the lunch shed when I was 12) at a nightclub in the city, and she remembered the kiss, but more so the day the principal “bashed me and threw me into the wall” and that is why out of pity she decided to kiss me at the time.

The recall had PTSD ramifications only for the fact that she and her girlfriends also felt sorry for me, but alas, there was no lunch shed in that nightclub…

Where across the course of your day today, could you consider where it might be that your shared stories don’t always have the same perspective?

I tell the stories of my youth firstly because I’m a sentimentalist. My reminiscences evoke fond memories.

The harsh memories drive me positively every day that I get the chance to turn it all around. They are not haunting memories that follow or disturb me.

The sentimental memories are affectionate and emotionally meaningful. They are not an idealised, distorted or unrealistic view of the past.

My romantic memories are not just about love or idealising the past; they are rich in personal history.

My youngest sister, who is one of my greatest confidants, posted photos of my nephews at their school book parade today.

Monika is a stylist to the stars, and I am so proud of her achievements. Yet she mentioned things in our phone conversation that I thought many people must feel.

Despite her obvious success having worked with the likes of Taylor Swift, Beyonce, Pink, Paul McCartney, Queen, Elton John, and countless other superstars, her most challenging wardrobe creations were those of her three sons, because she didn’t want them to feel as she did at her Book Parade.

I believe that you right the wrongs or you repeat the sins of your past.

Honour the memories that serve you, support you, nurture you and sustain you.

If you can’t, then forge new memories, or forget about it.

My at-home coffee mug has Pig Pen on it.

It’s a mnemonic of what I have overcome.

I’ve been told that by recalling the stories of my youth, I run the risk of staying in that mindset.

My mug is designed to remind me of who I once was. It’s not who I am now, and that is the celebration and motivation.

I am far, far away from what I plan to achieve in life, but that doesn’t mean I can’t acknowledge how far I have come, nor should you.

If this memento didn’t serve me, support me, nurture me, or sustain me, it would not be a part of my daily do’s.

While you’re thinking about that, think about this and have a Gr8 day!

Be Well.

DL

"Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards."

Søren Kierkegaard - 1813 - 1855.

None of us had it as bad as these guys: MONTY PYTHON'S LUXURY