Do you ever get the feeling that when times get hard, you seem to be the only person fending it? Does it ever feel like no-one can really understand what your going through and those that say they do are lying?
At times when I feel like I'm living each day to try and survive the next, it seems as if I'm all alone. It seems that I'm stuck in a place where unless I work as hard as I can, there may be a possibility of losing my job to someone who wants it more. I sit here and wonder, whether the harder I work actually benefits me or just makes someone else richer?
Yesterday we caught up with an old friend. Janice and I joined Christos (an old Greek friend from state high) for a fishing session down the coast; showing him how Viets do it. Its always amazing how great friendships endure the tests of time. The reunion of old friendships whether good or bad can be represented by the duration between the sight of each other and the first words. I always find joy in the look in their eyes, their familiar expressions and familiar feelings.
Its funny how there's usually a higher pitch voice associated with mostly incomprehensible words and sounds to help express our feelings. Oi's and awwws and much profanity exisits in the initial stages of dialogue but after the double handed hand shake which may or may not lead to a hug (depending on how close you are), or a straight hug (which signifies a much closer friendship), words seem to make more sense. I was amazed at how much he hadn't changed and I'm assuming he thought the same with me.
Janice popped out of the passenger seat and after the usual questions and answers we were off to the coast for what ended up as another memorable sunday session; another story for another blogging. What prompted this blog with such a provocative title describes of my rather opposite opinion to that of the portrayed, that is of much appreciation and respect for the first generation of Australian occupied immigrants. Our parents.
I have until now often mis-represented the words immigrants thinking that only the Vietnamese were represented. I’d forgotten that Australia is a country comprised of much multiculturalism which is vastly represented by immigrants seeking asylum from their mother country in hope for a better future for their families. Christos helped me realize that there are many of us whom are born from first generation Australian immigrants. He made me realize that my parents weren’t the only people who worked under the sun for very little, every single day, to get us to where we are now.
We talked alot about what life has chucked at us through the years since graduating highschool. He’s a painter now and aspires to own his own business in the next couple of years. When talking about family friends and relatives, he describes that the Greek community is very tight with everyone knowing everyone, a most probable result of his recent blooming romance with his childhood sweetheart. Not unlike myself and Janice, he explains of the hardships involved in day to day life which relates to just how I’ve been feeling. As it seems, he too feels the pressures of day to day life of juggling work to pay the bills to stay alive. Working 7 days a week to look after his mum whom all I can say is not as healthy as she was 20 years ago, it seems that it’s not just myself that seems to fending off problems with a big long stick.
Sometimes I wonder if we really do appreciate how much we’ve gotten as a result of what our parents have done for us. I wonder if the hardwork we’ve put in so far has benefited us in anyway or just made someone else richer. I think about it again and I think that without hardwork there is no reward, we may not be free from the hardships of today but we can at least learn to appreciate how much our parents have given to us so we can provide a better future for our future generations.
Maybe it is for them to know appreciation rather than have to experience it. Maybe it's not such a good thing?
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