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trees to the bottom boundary. We stopped whenever one of us felt like saying a few words in
memory of Max, and a pinch of his ashes were sprinkled over the ground. It was simple, moving,
and memorable. Maureen and Patrick didn t disgrace themselves.
After tea and sandwiches on the verandah, the guests left, to be followed soon after by Patrick and
Maureen. Neither had spoken a word to me all day. I was waiting to close the gate behind them
when Patrick stopped the car, wound down his window and snarled, You are going to regret this
for the rest of your miserable, disgusting, perverted life, you filthy pederast. He gunned the motor,
spraying me with dust and stones and sped away.
I m not, never have been and never will be a pederast, I whispered as I closed the gate and
retraced my steps down the drive, slipping unconsciously into the adolescent mantra I used to chant
endlessly to keep myself sane. I am a normal human being. I have no power to change the way I
was born. I am as worthy as the next person. I do no harm to anyone. I am not evil. I am not
perverted. I will not burn forever on the fires of hell. These are the lies of bigots who seek to control
others through fear. My worth does not reside in my sexual orientation, but in my thoughts and
actions. I will not permit anyone to destroy my self-esteem.
The rest of the day was like old times. A burden had been lifted, guilt was gone, and we relaxed in
our friendship. Hank was interested in my plans for the gallery and they were both thrilled that
Max s vision was to be continued, at least for a time. I shared their excitement about a proposed
summer cruise around the Pacific Islands. We laughed at memories of house building, of the
arguments and disagreements that had to be sorted before any decision could be taken, and
marvelled at how excellently the house had turned out. They were still very happy with it.
Don t you miss your legal practice? I asked.
One would have to be pretty desperate to miss conveyancing, drawing up the occasional will,
advising on a boundary dispute, or witnessing someone s Power of Attorney. He laughed in self-
deprecation. My old clients are much happier now Patrick s taken over. He s a great deal more in
tune with their narrow, right wing attitudes. They were never sure they could trust me.
But, don t either of you get bored, just pottering around here most of the time? Surely, without
day to day problems lives cease to have meaning?
Celia looked up sharply. Life has no meaning, Peter. None at all. It simply is. We can either
accept it as a precious gift, enjoying it as much as possible, or squander it on greed, lust and trivial
disputes. To look for meaning and purpose in nature is a form of insanity to which I am glad I have
never succumbed.
Having few personal problems doesn t mean we are free of concerns, added Hank. A glance
through a newspaper or five minutes of television news provides anyone with a conscience with
enough anxiety to keep them from complacency or boredom. The beauty of those worries is there s
nothing one can do about them, whereas the day to day problems of one s workplace can destroy
happiness. You feel they have to be solved, yet failure to do so is demoralising. Without shame, I
confess I am happy to have few demands placed on me.
As Sartre said, Hell is other people. Hank is a much more contented man now he no longer has to
deal with the public.
Her husband grimaced. Every morning as I drove to work I used to recite that advice of Marcus
Aurelius. Begin the morning by saying to thyself, I shall meet with the busybody, the ungrateful,
arrogant, deceitful, envious, unsocial.... But, it s not only that, something happens to your body
from around sixty onwards. The same activities you have always done without thinking leave you
tired. You can t build up muscles any more, they seem to disappear between each job. Other people
cease to be so interesting.
Conversation becomes reminiscence, and that s only fun for a while. Most people s heads are full
of incredible junk. Everyone wants to talk and interruptions abound. Serious thinking only occurs
when reading, writing, or walking alone. I love writing letters, but at seventy-two I ve few people
left to write to. None of them like writing anyway. Letter-writers have time to consider what they
want to say, and the reader has time to think about it before replying. That s why I avoid
telephones. I resent being expected to respond intelligently without sufficient time to think.
Do you watch TV?
The trouble with television is they have to appeal to such a wide variety of tastes, intellects and
ages. Either I have heard or thought it all before, or it is so superficial that I simply get annoyed and
fall asleep.
What we have discovered, said Celia thoughtfully, is that we see more, think more clearly, and
achieve greater understanding by doing little, than by being constantly active. Until one stands still,
much of the world is invisible. If I sit quietly, wild birds come near to scratch around for food.
When I stand silently under trees, butterflies and a myriad other insects appear. The sounds and
scents of the countryside are not available when talking, driving in a car, sitting on a ride-on mower,
or listening to the radio. When surrounded by others, rational thought is impossible. She laughed
self-consciously, It s a paradox. Life is richer the less one does. We go out occasionally, visit our
few friends, walk in the forest& Of course, we re lucky we get on so well.
Hank raised an eyebrow. It s not luck. It s determination. Our marriage could have gone off the
rails like any other, but we were too pig-headed to let it. He took his wife s hand in a gesture of
ease and trust.
It s all to do with false desires. Celia smiled. I feel sorry for our acquaintances who are
unwilling to grow old. They act like unruly teenagers. Many are out every day and as many nights
as they can manage. They try all the cheap restaurants, spend hours at the RSL, play the pokies,
bowls, bingo, darts, bridge, watch daytime TV, anything to distract them from experiencing their
lives. They go on all the Seniors Club outings, try hang-gliding, ballooning everything that s
going. I would be pleased for them if it left them contented, but it doesn t. They are tired much of
the time, get irritated with their spouses, have dreadful rows and are constantly declaring, If only
such and such would happen, then I d be happy. It s depressing.
I hope I ll end up like you two one day.
You will. You want the right things. It wasn t your fault you split with Max, Hank said with
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