I first purchased a PDA in maybe, 1996. It was a Hewlett Packard LX200 or something like that. It was a wonderful machine. It had a full fledged diary and calendar with the usual weekly, monthly, quarterly and yearly views. It had to-do lists, phone book, note pad, Lotus 1-2-3 and all these other really useful programs. The phone book had multiple phone numbers and email addresses and had a rolodex view option. The diary had day view which lets you choose if wanted to view only active appointments or the whole day, and so on and so on. There were a few set backs. It was a clam-shell design, almost like a notebook which is about 3in x 6in x 1in. It was big by today’s standards. Also, it was a dos operating system, when Microsoft was has begun ruling the world. After about 2 years, I switched to a Palm Vx. Did almost everything the HP LX200 did and more. It was small slick and stylish. Problem was it was 8mb and pretty soon, with the early proliferation of Palm softwares, 8mb started to look like a joke. Then a bigger machine but somewhat like the (then) 3comm Palm 3 colour version design came along. It had a slot for compact flash cards, which was a medium I had started using when I had the HP LX200. I switched to that one (dang, I still cannot recall the brand). I missed the Vx form factor, as this machine, though very versatile and useful, just didn’t allow me to slip it into my pocket the way the Vx did. When Palm came out with the m500 therefore, I jumped on it in a flash. This is the machine I still have today. In between I had owned and used the Tungsten T, the Treo 270 and the Treo 600. The Treo 600 was a dream come true, until we moved to Melbourne end of 2004. Somehow the phone carriers here just don’t like my Treo 600. People couldn’t hear me, and my sms caused the whole thing to repeatedly freeze over. It had functioned beautifully for more than a year before that. So I discarded it, took up a tired looking Nokia for a phone and reverted to my m500 which I had wisely retained. All these years, I had become a PDA junkie. I couldn’t go anywhere without one. From about 2001 when I started using e-readers and e-Bibles PDA had been my companion almost everywhere. It was my phone, diary, notebook, email and internet readers, calculators, alarm clocks, book, bible, spreadsheet, word processor, photo album, mp3 music player, even camera and video recorder. So when we moved to Melbourne I thought I was going to be lost without it. Somehow, maybe because my work and lifestyle no longer required all those add-on’s I have survived these past 7 odd months with the old Nokia and m500, often without both of them on me. I always have a sense of dejavu when I see someone whipping out a Treo, an XDA or even a black berry. I miss those machines but I no longer truly need them. I am no longer the person who needs to contact and be contacted by others all the time, and when I do, have all sorts of information handy with me. I no longer have many small little nephews and nieces to entertain and amaze using my video player which is really my phone/PDA. I no longer have many hours in the traffic of waiting for meetings or in between meetings where I read, either various books or the Bible. Life has become a lot simpler, I no longer need these machines. Problem is, a lot of Palm softwares I have require an operating system of at least a Palm OS 5.0 or higher. The m500 unfortunately does not have this OS. So while I am perfectly happy to live with the m500, I really need something better. So, I have been shopping around, in forum like the Klang Valley Palm User Group (http://www.kvpug.org) the Australian Palm User Group (http://www.auspug.com) and of course, eBay. EBay buyers are unbelievably generous with their offers. KVPUG is more into slanging each other or otherwise have only mp3 players and a host of Bluetooth gadgets for sale, whereas AUSPUG is almost dead in the secondary market sector. I plugged away with my more “realistic” bids at eBay but have not managed to secure any purchase so far. God’s timing I must say, as after casting my eyes all across the globe, the solution really lies at “home”. As it turned out, my own brother has been considering the XDAII and has been offered a ridiculously low price for his Tungsten T. When I told him I have been looking for one, he offered me his for a “Good bottle of Aust Wine”. That wasn’t an unfair proposition unless he wants some obscure Penfolds’ 1962 Grange variety. A good Shiraz should do it. I can now look forward to re-living part of my old life again. I know though, that this would not be a reversion to my old life in toto, just that part which allows me to use a later version of my eReader and MyBible softwares, and maybe some updated versions of Agendus. Praise God for little comforts.

 

Elysia and I sat down this morning as we always do, for a bit of a chat and prayer just before we left the house. We talked and laughed at what a grumpy old man I am becoming. Earlier, I had been in a really grumpy mood. I hadn’t realised it myself, but having to boil an egg, mash it up and spread on her lunch sandwich, having to make Theresa and my sandwiches using a very oddly shaped loaf of bread, trying to toast that difficult bread (cutting it to fit and fishing it out from the toaster), had set all my timing back. Boiling the eggs was also a problem because to make that sandwich I had to boil the egg earlier so that it had time to cool down, but if I did that then the other egg would be too cold for Elysia’s breakfast, so I had to put both eggs into the pot, take one out half way, let the other boil, then when that was done to then put the first one into the hot water but made sure the stove was turned off so that it kept warm only, not cook some more. By the time all this was done I had no time to make my cereal so I just had a banana and coffee, so my sugar level was down.  I kept complaining about the bread, but she knew I was just being grumpy. Funny, because it was Elysia who had trouble sleeping the night before, so she should have been the grumpy one. She wasn’t, and made sure I knew she wasn’t by being extra perky. I should have been pleased with that but I remained grumpy. The undercurrent was actually my very sore gum. My periodontitis wasn’t getting better and one of the two loose teeth was hurting. I guess the operative word in this instance isn’t “grumpy” but “old”. Elysia on the other hand was very sprightly despite her very late night. She had wandered in and out of room complaining about not being able to go to sleep. I was up watching first the cricket (Ashes Test series), then Lance Armstrong pedalling to higher glory, and only went to bed close to midnight. By then she had stopped coming out of her room and the light in her room remained turned off. Yet she is the perkier of the two of us this morning. Yes, “old” is becoming the operative word…

We struggled last Saturday morning as we have lately, to wake up on a Saturday morning. It was cold and the warm bed had a lure too good to give up. Elysia had told us the night before that she wanted to be at Dymock’s at 9am to pick up her copy of JK Rowling’s latest offering. It was 7.30am when I told myself to wake up. As usual I succeeded only after a long and considerable tug of war. The one good thing about these cold, Saturday mornings is that I feel a lot more wanted by the wife. She’d clutch on tight and I’d feel like the world’s most desirable man. Ebbing gum notwithstanding. Of course I could be Shrek and she’d still clutch on. “It was the warmth” I told myself, and came down to earth almost instantly. Still, I couldn’t just yank myself off her hug and leave her to a cold Shrek-less bed. So I lingered on, and listened to Darren on the radio. We have been listening to him on Saturday mornings lately. Darren (or it could be Darryl, we were always cold and half-asleep) hosts an entertaining garage sale type of program on 3AW, and we have him on to wake us up. A lady called in to say her husband was already at work, and it was 7 degrees outside. I suddenly felt very sluggish. I told the wife I’d go put the kettle on to make her a cup of tea, and reluctantly pried open her clutches. I stumbled into the kitchen, and got ready to have some coffee and go for a run. Though cold, it was a sunny morning. By 8.30am it was obvious Elysia wasn’t going to let JK Rowling pull her out from her warm bed, so I told the wife I was going for my run. She mumbled something about letting myself in when I’m done (she was taking Elysia out, not sleeping in) and off I went. It was a beautiful morning. My now once-a-week run is taking longer and longer to settle into a rhythm, but by the time I crossed Coleman Parade about 10-15 minutes later, my strides had more purpose and flow to them. I went up the slight slope towards Glen Waverley Station, went behind my office around Myrtle Way, and headed into Kingsway and when I reached the cafes on Kingsway I could feel a few beads of sweat forming on my brow just under the beanie. This felt good. It was just passed 25 minutes, and I sighed at the much slower pace of almost 6 minutes a km lately. I made my way up Kingsway, into Snedden Drive and towards High Street Road. I cut in behind the apartments just behind the Glen Waverley Secondary College, got into High Street Road and made my way onto the flattening terrain with a push. This is where the slope eases off for a while, maybe the next 10 minutes. After a slightly downhill stretch, I turned into Blackburn Road on the right, making my way towards Highbury Road. As I have done for the past 3 weeks, after I passed the last remaining slope of the route, I turned into Delmore Crescent for a detour to look at some houses. On house we had been eyeing had the “Sold” sign still, resolutely displayed. Hmmm… I turned back into Blackburn Road, crossed the street and as I passed the “slip road” of Red Rooster on the corner of Blackburn and Highbury Roads, I kept my eye on the Tally Ho reserve road. Passed it on 48 minutes. This was better than last week, but still slow. I have 12 minutes to make an 8-minute distance. What the heck – I slowed down to enjoy the sunny but crispy cold air. I barely finished stretching when the wife opened the door and with Elysia, looked all dressed to keep the appointment with Harry. “Give me 15 minutes” I said in between breaths and tore off my beanie, gloves, fleecy top and socks. I jumped into the hot shower. Ahhh…I’m ready for this weekend now.  So was Elysia, it would seem, as we picked up the book and she dived in and submerged herself before emerging some 6 hours later to proclaim the awful turn of events for Professor Dumbledore.

 

“Uphill and down dale they went”. So we read from the time we were infants, and experience to when our gums ebb, our tissues dry and our bones rattle. Is one allowed to be philosophical on a Friday? We all have ascending and descending routes, don’t we? Sometimes we labour as we climb, feel a high when we peak, before we cruise merrily along as we make a descent. The next climb then looms as the heavy feeling sinks in and the cycle repeats. I had a mild euphoria on Wednesday night, after meeting Elysia’s class teacher. The morning before (on Tuesday), I had had a terrible time at the office. On Wednesday night Elysia was on a high. She was happy because we were happy with her. This morning I sensed that a little of that uphill feeling has started to creep in. She has been very keen on participating in the Victoria Premier’s reading program, which requires kids to read a prescribed list of books. This had to be done by middle August. This morning we discussed her progress over breakfast and she was clearly worried. She still has something like 10 books to go through. Rowling’s latest offering is due out tomorrow and like kids her age in many parts of the world, she has been looking forward to this for months. We had only pre-purchased her copy a few weeks ago. Now she may have to postpone reading it because of the Premier’s program. I suggested drastic reduction of internet time, as well as TV time, to cover loss grounds. She nodded in agreement, but the worry was still painted all over her face. As I finished my coffee and allowed the caffeine to boost my fatherhood skills, I started to work through the details with her. How many books exactly, what are the titles, how many books per day she has to cover, how long per day she has to read, and so we went. Just before we left the house, she revisited the issue. I may not agree with the choice of books making up the “Premier’s List”, but what do I know – Rowling’s books are all in that list. Elysia has read all of them, several times. Surely she doesn’t have to plough through them just to tick off the list? She has read them, can remember every detail about every character, and that was good enough for me. That’s 4 books ticked off. She looked much better. I guess she feels closer to this peak. She still has some way to climb, but suddenly (after a chat with Dad of course) she feels more confident about reaching this particular peak. Next time, it may not be as easy to make up lost ground. Never mind. We all have our “uphill and down dale” repeatedly, but each one is easier and more fun to go through with a companion. I’m grateful to be Elysia’s for this cycle.

Last night Theresa and I kept an appointment to see Elysia’s class teacher. This was the second of such appointment, so it looks like they do this once a semester. Mrs Jan Mattingley has a perpetual blush, speaks rather softly and appears to be very pleased with Elysia. What we appreciated very much was the fact that Elysia was included in a number of programs as she showed capacity and enthusiasm to do more. Some kids have the capacity but not the enthusiasm. The only complaint, if one can call it that, Mrs Mattingley had was the speed of Elysia’s speech. Theresa and I nodded emphatically in agreement when she said that. “You should try having Elysia talk to you at that speed at 7.30 in the morning”, I told Mrs Mattingley as she retold the story of how she had to cope with these bullet-train deliveries yesterday morning while driving Elysia and a few other kids to a leadership seminar organised by World Vision, in Ringwood (north east of us). Needless to say, both Theresa and I came away from that interview pleased as peach. I had gone to the school tired and not feeling like dinner. When I left however, I was spirited and when we went to Red Rooster to “celebrate”, Theresa and I polished off half a chook. We don’t usually eat that much. We came back to another 2-hour treat of 24 (preceded by Jamie Oliver), the second of such treats this week. So it was a very pleasant evening indeed. Cold, but warm insider.

I guess it was particularly pleasing seeing that Elysia had coped despite our initial apprehension about her skipping a year. She had completed Standard 4 in Malaysia and to have her enrolled in Year 6 was a bit of an adventure, especially as she also has to cope with a completely new way of life in a new country. We were quite prepared for her to revert to Year 5 in the second semester, had it been deemed necessary by the school. As it were, she is quite at home in Year 6. Thank you, Mrs Mattingley. Thank you, God.

I often feel bad when I shut someone up. The only occasions I had to hang up on someone were always telemarketers who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Even against errant suppliers whose stories were going no where fast, I feel terrible when I had to abruptly terminate a telephone conversation. I felt awful therefore, when I had to stop kiddo’s very excited reaction over the phone, just a few minutes ago. She is one of four kids selected for a project. True to her usual excitable self, she just shot off on a trajectory into the blue yonder. On and on she went about what who else were in that team, she had to do, who came up with what idea and so on. Emil and Zack were the boys, She and Casey were the girls. Emil is a local Aussie boy, of eastern European descent. Zack just came over from Britain (England, I think). Elysia is often in awe of him, saying he’s a real smart kid. Casey is a Sri Lankan girl. Pretty good friend of Elysia’s. I just couldn’t stop her in her enthusiastic track about who has come up with what idea for the project. They are supposed to think of a product and come up with an advertising campaign to sell that product. Something called Whackamoa. Or something like that. As bad as I felt, I had to shut her up. I was in office, with walls barely passing as soundproof (I can often hear every word spoken from someone else’s room). I couldn’t carry on a conversation with my daughter when my boss is pressing me to complete draft after draft after amended draft of documents (of course, this blog is Clause 27 in some Deed I’m drafting and soon will be Paragraph 18 of some Pleading). So I had to tell her to stop. “Tell me later tonight okay, darling?” Truth be told, this is one story I’d really like to hear kiddo go on and on about. Her excitement has just lighted up a bad Monday. Thank you, Lord.

Many have people they love or know, in London. Many have travelled there for work, business, studies, holiday or visiting friends or family. In one of our trips there, my wife and I stayed in a hotel a few hundred feet from Russell Square station, where one of the bombs went off. I remember walking to and from that station every morning and evening, and ascending and descending the steps leading into and out from the platforms. While I also had the privilege of visiting the World Trade Centre in New York before they succumbed to terrorist acts, London felt closer to home. New York was hot and humid when I visited, very much a blur. All I remember were the Wall Street offices including the law office which a colleague and I attended for business, and the lunch thereafter. I recall vaguely the walk to Times Square with a few other colleagues that same evening but that was it. London is different. I recall Piccadilly Circus a lot better than I do Times Square. I recall the underground better than the subway. I can close my eyes and picture the streets of London better than I can the streets of New York. Maybe it was because I was in NY only once. Maybe it wasn’t pleasant when I was there, and the trip was too short to make any impression.

For what it has done in Iraq, Britain is not in my good books. Still, watching the pictures on the television last night was distressing. They were not at all dramatic in comparison with what we saw on 11/09/2001. Then, we first saw smoke coming out of one tower. Then we saw, live, a second plane crashing into the other tower. Then we saw first one tower than the other, crumbling. We saw people jumping out from the windows, from what must have been at least 20-30 story high levels. Last night all we saw were vehicles crowding around the entrances and exits of train stations, and the occasional casualty. Many of the casualties looked messed up but could still talk to the journalists. The picture of the blown off double-decker isn’t dramatically different from pictures of many exploded buses we have seen over the years, mainly in the middle-east. As undramatic as the pictures relatively were, they were distressing.

This morning I heard Ken Livingstone speak. He extolled the virtues of the city and what it represents. He said many people will continue to come to London and make it their home. This was because the city allowed them to pursue their dreams, let them be who they want to be and let them do what they want to do. He said many people went to London to escape where they came from, where they were told what to do and how to live their lives. I cannot recall listening to any other speech by Ken Livingstone but I thought that was a stirring one. Almost comparable to Rudy’s in NY when Sept 11 happened.

Of course there will be the usual rant, rightly so I think, of the lopsidedness of media coverage. Larger numbers are killed by acts of the Western world in various parts of the world. The media would argue those were contexts of war or peace-keeping situations, whereas this was  a city outside such war zones. I guess the jihad members don’t look at it that way. Everywhere is a battle ground. Wherever they choose to be, will be battlegrounds. Such as the London underground, or the Madrid metro, or (shudders) Connex Rail in Melbourne. The wife is not going in to work this morning – staying home to look after kiddo who is not well. I told her the boss may think she was worried about travelling in a Melbourne train. Anyway, like Aragorn said to Theoden in the Two Towers, “War is already upon us, (whether you like it or not)”. Theoden may have been king and not Aragorn but he couldn’t argue with that. Neither can the west argue with the jihad perpetrators. Even if they can eliminate Al-Qaeda, war will continue until there can be a reconciliation between the two sets of values and beliefs.

 

I guess as parents we all want to provide our children with something, either when they grow up or when we “go”. We were reading Proverbs 14 last night and I told kiddo I would rather leave her a fear for God than anything else (or above everything else). With a fear for God she would have peace and joy no amount wealth or education can give her. Then this morning I recalled CS Lewis’s take on why Jesus did what He did.

 

God created life. He is the source of it. When we reject God therefore, we reject not just the church or the bible or any set of rules and regulations; we reject the source of life. When we so reject, we head death’s way by default. We need therefore to be hauled the other way. We can’t however haul ourselves because we have rejected the source of life. We need someone who hasn’t rejected that source (read: has not sinned), to so haul us back into life. We need someone perfect. Only God is, and His Son. God or His Son somehow needs to jump in, be part of us and haul us back. That means God or His Son has to be part of this death path.

 

Problem is: if God is life, He can’t die. God doesn’t die. If He does, He can’t be God. So God had to become man. Just so He can die. His death however, lasted just 3 days. He rose again, so that we too can rise with Him. We then head the other way, back to the source of Life, God. That in a nutshell is the gospel. Still doesn’t quite click, does it. I mean why must He die to haul us back into life? Hmmm… the answer is there, but how do I arrange the blocks in my head so that they make a neat pile? Gotta read CS Lewis for more clues (on how to arrange these blocks)…