Day 34

If you've ever had the pleasure of my father's company for a few hours, chances are that during the course of that time you will have hit upon one of his three favourite topics. Dad is an exceptional conversationalist, and has the ability to engage with pretty much everyone. Be it charming the socks of some unsuspecting elderly lady with his appreciation for war history or interest in bird species, or talking motorcycles with a greasy, bogan, teenaged boy - he hooks them in like fish and inevitably, people leave with the distinct impression that they've just been chatting with one of the greatest blokes ever to have lived.

Even his church sermons, which are mercifully brief and peppered with stories you'd probably find in somewhat less detail on Wikipedia, seem to be a source of delight. When word gets around that 'me old man' is taking the pulpit on Sunday, you know that the seats will be full of unlikely churchgoers, the post-service chatter is going to be lively, and churchy bikkies are going to be dunked in foam cups of tea with a little more emphasis than usual. Just ask me about the time he decided to preach about sex... Anyway, people love to hear my dad speak, and they tend to think that every word from his lips is a gold nugget. I know this, because for weeks after any encounter, Dad's victims seem to feel it is their personal duty to impress upon me just how magnificent a man my father is, and how I should be grateful to have had the influence of such a character.

And I am. Truly, I know that he is one of history's greatest undiscovered orators, and his opinions are widely researched, insofar as one can be informed with no use of the internet, and backed up by sound common sense. Which brings me back to his three hobby horses - the topics of conversational domination that are nearest and dearest to his heart:

1. Aspirational people. If you haven't heard my dad's famous speech about aspirational people, then you are in ignorance of one of the greatest social theories ever proposed. Dad's view is that how much you have is no basis for judgement, but how high you aim is. There-in lies the reasoning behind his esteem for the hard-working, hard-saving, claw your way higher type of person - the self-made man. This person, he will tell you, is worth his time. However, the person who does not aim to be a better, more self-sufficient, more honourable member of society, no matter how much they have or are given to begin with, this person is not worthy of much investment. I tend to agree. I mean, I'd back Will.I.Am over Paris Hilton any day. Aspirational people can be told apart from their contemporaries, by their not owning hire-purchased goods that they have no intention of paying off, by their general standard of dress, by their attempting to better themselves through study or work opportunities, and by their desire to own a property in a better neighbourhood and not behave like trash. From my own observations of people Dad categorises as 'aspirational', it appears that generally, aspirational people do not wear thongs unless on holiday, drink VB, own a Datsun or barrack for the Bulldogs.

2. The Bureaucratic Process. I sort of only just manage to follow this, but the gist of it is that people with university degrees need jobs, so when there are not enough jobs for them, the system expands to create additional layers of regulation, and therefore create jobs for them. Which seems a little at odds with the thesis on 'aspirational people', but I guess Dad's loss is their gain. I feel I'm doing him a personal service by disregarding my own tertiary qualifications and working in a service provider role, however un-aspirational this is of me. Bureaucracy means suits with bones to pick, and fine toothed combs to wield, and magnifying glasses to discover fine print you didn't even know existed. Specific to the farming industry, bureaucracy is to blame for those extra ear tag measures required to sell stock, the over-abundance of 'farm management' literature that takes up space in Mum's home office, and a win for those bloody lefty PETA people, who have managed to get mulesing outlawed; hence condemning my dad to many filthy hours of work with a bucket of Round-up, a paintbrush, and a whole lot of rotten sheep ass.

3. Discipline. Which brings me to the piece-de-resistance. "Discipline," intones my father, "has been given a bad name. But," he will continue, "discipline is actually a good thing." He will go on to explain that discipline is the greatest gift you can be given. Particularly with regard to child-rearing, according to he (a twenty-nine strong year career in the field lends weight to his views), discipline is the one great ingredient that has gradually been decomposing from society, to the point that an undisciplined generation are now raising a new generation with very little confidence in the disciplinary process at all. We have removed the consequences for lack of discipline, asserts Dad. He laments that our society is now founded on 'fairness and tolerance,' ahead of a more naturally selective process by where those who won't abide by rules suffer for it.

If I wanted to really cause a kerfuffle at this point, I could launch into the smack-vs-no smack debate, or talk about why the school system is struggling ever harder with issues surrounding discipline and student management, but... I choose not to. (You can go there in the comments if you want to, feel free to spice it up). That is rarely the point of Dad's passionate discussion, though. What he really wants, I believe, is for an appreciation of the fruits of discipline to be more widely held.

My sister was somewhat of a handful as a child, whereas I was mostly a parental doormat - a fact that they failed to appreciate until my sweet sibling provided such a contrast. Many times I heard my parents - Dad in particular - express their "hope that one day, you have a child just like you." Wishes do come true. Now she is wrestling daily with her very own model of 'the strong-willed child', and Dad absolutely relishes dishing out the advice. "A strong will isn't a bad thing, it's a good thing," he tells her - to which she rolls her eyes. Then we both mouth the words to this well-rehearsed monologue along with him: "You just have to bend the will to the right direction."

I'm sure Dad would be surprised to learn that I've developed such a keen interest in discipline, even if it is the self-served variety. He would probably question the presence of some of my list items ("Didn't I drill that into you well enough as a child?") and be horrified to learn that I have a credit card debt (how un-aspirational of me), but I'm sure overall he'd be pleased with my efforts. It just goes to show, that over time, I must have unconsciously soaked up some of his most holy teachings after all. I can almost sense him shining down on me, from that unspoiled rank of society who are yet to soil themselves with regular internet usage.

So, my daddy-o, here is a toast, to the fine role you have played in my aspiration to self-discipline! *raises VB - chink* *wink*