Reunions are a funny thing.

I’ve never understood why some people dread and fear the ‘reunion’. Be it a school reunion, a family reunion or as was the case for me on the weekend, the State Bank Griffith reunion; why would you not want to be a part of it?

On my last day at the State Bank, Jan '93

See I love a reunion. I have sentimentality running through my veins, along with a fare dose of nostalgia. I love this sort of shit. Any chance to remember the past or take a trip down memory lane and I am all over it like a rash (as you may have noticed from this blog!). If I wasn’t so disorganised and have such a short attention span I’d be organising all sorts of reunions for every other week.

State Bank circa '92

Reunions are this confusing mix of reliving stories from the past while trying to describe the present. You can literally jump from one time-zone to another in the space of a question. Reunions are like a time machine that zips back and forth. Stories from 1992 are mixed in with stories from 2011 and everything in between. “Do you remember…” “What do you do now…” “Whatever happened to…” “Didn’t you shag…” “You haven’t changed at all, have you had work done…”

When I first heard of the State Bank Griffith reunion I literally jumped with glee. I have such fond memories of near 20 years ago when I was Griffith’s worst, and possibly rudest, bank teller. I was instantly desperate, aching to catch up with all my old work buddies, or as I call them my Italian beauties. Jumped online and booked my little Rex flights home so I could be a part of it. Mum had found my old bank ties and name badge and I was all set to go.

Was frocking up for the big night when I suddenly got all nervous! This is very un-me. It had been 18 long years since I left the bank and a lot had changed for me in that time. Girls became boys, banking became publicity, Griffith had become Sydney. But that in a nutshell is the really cool thing about reunions - a lot has changed for EVERYONE! It’s the catching up that is important, the reconnecting and the reliving of a shared experience. Saturday night was truly joyous…

And there was cake!

The night went by unbelievably quickly and I kinda feel like I didn’t catch-up with anyone nearly enough. Crammed in a whole series of power-conversations where all involved had to summarise their life in under 2 mins. So much fun. And fuck it was funny! And the story-telling was brilliant. Now I was only with the bank for two short years in the early 90’s and the guests covered the 70’s through to 2001. I was a mere snapshot in a whole gallery of memories. For me, it was about two things… First, my Italian beauties!

Yes, I have a ponytail. '92

Now my ladies and I were all tellers at about the same time. Imagine walking into a bank and being greeted by us! Needless to say I never had to serve many men, they made a beeline for my beauties. Now in 2011 they are all happily married and slowly re-populating Griffith. It’s only a few years off before I can take their eldest children to their first nightclub. 18 years felt like a matter of months once I was back with my Italian beauties.

2011

Secondly, the night was all about White Oprah and Wyalong. Now there was a subtle shift here. 18 years ago they were my bosses and seemed older and much more mature. Now they are my friends, of the same generation, equals in every way. I love them and they made me laugh hysterically. HYS-terically! I kinda think that if we were strangers but in the same room anytime, anywhere we would naturally be drawn to each other. Possibly because we would be the loudest. When next we meet, we will be ‘ferretting’ (although still not sure what that means???), Wyalong is the events co-ordinator.

So to my fine colleagues who did such a fabulous job of organising, I sincerely thank you. I had an absolute ball. So good to take this stroll down memory lane, but even better to reconnect with old friends. Just goes to show that we all haven’t changed that much really. Circumstances may have, but not the reasons why we were friends in the first place.

I love reunions!

Carmella is and will always be one of the most special people I have ever met!

"How would you like that?" My days as a Bank Teller

“Good morning State Bank Griffith, St. Murphy speaking…”

I used to be a Bank Teller! Oh the irony! Many who know me now will be in fits of laughter cause I am possibly the most un-Bank Tellerish person ever now.

For one, Bank Tellers are polite and focused on customer service. Me, I’m a rude bitch who’s lucky to remember a simple please or thank you. Bank Tellers are efficient, organised and good with numbers. Well I’m the polar opposite.

“How would you like that?”

But just over 20 years ago I was a very different man. I had just finished Yr 12, I was completely obsessed with swimming and triathlons and I had only just tasted alcohol for the first time. I was a non-smoker AND I was sleeping with women (well, a few anyway). I was on the cusp of manhood and had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I had deferred a Business degree while I worked out if this was for me. And kept swimming, cycling, running.

“Would you like me to order you another cheque book?”

I’d always loved the idea of having a job where I got to wear a tie each day, so when the State Bank of NSW Griffith Branch junior-junior-junior job came up I knew it was for me (plus the manager was a friend of the family hehehehe). I remember being so excited on my first day when they gave me two free ties, each in their own box, that I was to wear with my new white dress shirts and navy slacks. They even gave me a belt with a beautiful silver buckle. The State Bank seemed so POSH to this 18 year old.

“Bags not counting the coin.”

Now I can’t really remember much about the job, or what it really involved. I remember I sat in front of a big machine for ages when I first started and fed in cheques, withdrawals and deposit slips. I also remember that there were lots of checklists and reports. I was beside myself with excitement when I finished Teller training and finally got to stand up at the counter. Jeez I remember it being so much fun. But as is always the way during important times in your life, it’s not about what you are doing but the people you are doing it with.

“Boss, I seem to be out $900?”

My fellow Tellers where the hottest Italian beauties in town! Leader of the pack was Carmel, gorgeous, and my lovelies Venera, Lynette, Joanna and Lisa, plus ‘part-timers’ Linda and Sharon (although Sharon is not Italian). Went to all their weddings and 21^st’s during this time. Had fantastic, fun bosses Ninetta, Loretta and Jacqui. Had a ball! Being a Bank Teller was brilliant fun. My two favourite customers were Dimity Parr who I thought was unbelievably glamorous cause she’d just won Miss Showgirl at the Royal Easter Show and Jane McCarthy cause she flirted outrageously and gave me a leopard skin g-string.

“I hate Fridays. I hate stying open an extra hour till 5pm.”

Ahhhh, good times! One year turned into two but I finally had worked out I wanted to do something in media and had been accepted into Uni. I sobbed like a baby on my last day, an absolute baby. I still have my farewell gift from the staff which was a gold fish to hang on the gold chain I got for my 18th, and the beautiful Carmella bought me a diamond ear-ring. Yep, still have them. (I had just got my ear pierced on my first ever trip to Sydney on my own to accept the State Bank Country Sportsperson of the Year Award!!!) Everyone wears gold in Griffith.

“Carmel, I can’t find my keys to the safe!”

So why am I taking this trip down memory lane today? Well, I’ve just arrived home in Griffith for the State Bank Reunion! So excited! We’ve all kinda sorta kept in contact over the years but have not all been together since 1993. Venera has organised, champion effort, and now it looks like there’s gonna be about 50 people. Mum still had in storage my ties and name badge which I will be wearing very proudly on Saturday night – one tie around my neck, one as a belt and I’m thinking one as a head band. What a night it’s going to be!

I only wish that being a Bank Teller had of taught me to be better with money. Or how to steal it.

“I hate pension day”

Clinging to the Dream: Photos from my youth

So I lost the good part of half a day while I was at home in Griffith going through old family photo albums. It’s addictive, once you start you can’t stop. Everyone in my family, especially me, LOVES a photo. Every stage of my life is very well documented.

Now this is the most self-indulgent, self-absorbed post I’ve ever done. And that’s saying something! Every time I got all excited about a photo I took a shot of it on my iPhone. The result is this post.

Now there are two quite obvious themes to these photos.

A)   Camp, cute, funny shots from my Youth that would sit well on Born This Way, and…

B)   Shots that clearly show and prove that many years ago I used to be much much thinner and FIT! 

Please enjoy my little egotistical trip down memory lane!

Pageboy at Auntie Cheryl and Uncle John's wedding

Auntie Cheryl is the best aunty in the world and I love love love her dearly. Just wanted to get that in there.

Got excited over this one cause this year I am back in contact with two guys from this shot, one after 20 years and the other after 25. All thanks to Facebook.

Yr 7 School photo - start of monobrow and huge front gap

Yr 10 Social Committee Slave Day (have talked about this one before) - Brilliant time of life!

Yr 10 Formal, and no its not fancy dress. That shirt is Jade. Protecting the identity of partner here.  

Such an unbelievable poser! But can not tell you how much I  love that I used to be this thin!

Bro and I at his 18th. Note the floral shirts and motorbike on the cake.

This one, I got so excited about what my stomach looked like 20yrs ago that I nearly passed out.

CLINGING TO THE MEMORIES!!!!!

Now as much as I am addicted to B&H, Absolut and Foxtel today, I used to be just as addicted to exercise - I've literally become the polar opposite of my youth. These photos will come as a great shock to those of you who know me now. Please note the ponytail (it was the early 90's)!!!

Now these shots are to make my old mate Snuddo and I feel better about ourselves. Now that we are men of a certain age we can only dream of our athletic youth and defined shoulders.

Now just to end... I've talked before about how I'm such a hoarder. Well I've got boxes of 'memorabilia' still in the shed at Mumsy's house. Trolling through them I found these... My favourite swimmers from 1984! LA Olympic themed "Where there's a Will there's a way!" Or am I the only one who remembers that slogan?

Ahhhh... such memories. Sorry to drag you along with me. I did warn you upfront it was gonna be self-indulgent! Other reason, besides my ego, is I got a bit nervous putting shots up of other people who may not like it. Damn I'm considerate. So it's all about me

I'm clinging to the dream as much as those Willy swimmers clung to me!

ANZAC Day Dawn Service

Every year for as long as I can remember my Grandma has attended the ANZAC Day Dawn Service. She lost her husband, my grandfather, in WW2 and subsequently raised two boys on her own who never knew their father. She can not attend this year so I will take her place. I am sad and embarrassed to admit that I have never been to the Dawn Service before. My Pa also proudly fought in WW2, so it is fair to say that the war has had a dramatic effect on my family. I’m humbled to remember them both today.

Dedication of Purpose

At this hour, on this day, the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, at Galipoli made immortal the name of ANZAC and established an imperishable tradition of selfless service of devotion to duty and fighting for all that is best in human relationships.

We who are gathered here today in this dawn vigil remember with gratitude the men and women who have given and are still giving in our Armed and Support Services, all that is theirs to give in order that the world may be a nobler place in which to live.

And with them, we remember those left behind to bear the sorrow of their loss.

Let us therefore dedicate ourselves to taking up the burdens of the fallen, and with the same high courage and stead-fastness with which they went into battle, set our hands to the tasks they left unfinished. Let us dedicate ourselves to the ideals for which they died. Let us with God’s help, give our utmost to make the world what they would have wished it to be, a better and happier place for all its people, through whatever means are open to us.

Special thanks to my dear, dear friend Sonia Louise who I accompanied this morning. She attends the Dawn Service every year.

Road Trip: GRIFFITH!

I am a notorious overpacker! Shocking in fact. A life lesson I’ve never learnt. This is the giant suitcase I’ve packed for 3 days & 3 nights in my hometown Griffith. You know how much I love Griffith and going home, so extra particular care needed to be taken.

And yes I am also taking me new man-bag as hand-luggage for laptop and all the usual daily stuff I carry around with me – diary, pad, pens, Zantac, Panadol, ventolin, ciggies, lighter, Berocca, power cords, coin purse, USB, hankies, everything but the kitchen sink. I even have my passport in there in the hopes I may one day be whisked off on an emergency overseas trip to an island resort.

I’m not sure the tiny little Rex plane that flies me home will be able to take the weight. I’ve done this flight a 1000 times but I still get nervous. The shell doesn’t feel like much protection to me. And the fact that it isn’t even big enough to pull up at the gate, instead you have to get a bus out to the tarmac. I can always sense on that bus that I am not the only one with these thoughts, there is always nervous laughter on that bus.

When you are getting on the plane you can literally touch the nose and the propeller. I would have got shots of inside the tiny banana to demonstrate midgets like me can’t even stand upright but Air Hostess took an instant dislike to me and practically confiscated my iPhone.

Now purely by chance I am in Griffith on the weekend of the biggest annual social event – La Festa! Now for most of my life this festival was called Vintage Festival and was an excuse for anyone over the age of 14 to binge drink. It’s a grape-growing/wine-producing district so it was all in the name of supporting the local economy. We used to wear leather pouches around our necks to carry our glasses in – say no more.

My memory of Vintage each year has two parts… during the day you travel round all the wineries on a bus and then at night you hit the Area Hotel for a street party. Ahhhh… so many memories! It’s a bit of a haze really but I’m sure anything I’ve ever done illegally was done for the first time at Vintage.

Maybe its just that I’m older but this La Festa event is very different to the Vintage I remember. Yes, there was wine, yes there was food, yes all of Griffith comes out for it, but now it’s in a lovely park with garden furniture and musical acts. Where do the young folk vomit?

I was a bit excited when I first made my way in cause with all these flags left over from Mardi Gras I was thinking my weekend at home just got a whole lot more interesting! May even be brave enough to turn on Grindr? Alas, me and the flags were the gayest things about La Festa.

I was casually strolling through the stands for the local wineries when I found myself in the middle of some Line-Dancing. Flustered, yes! So after I’d done a few docey-does with the lovely ladies I got some snaps…

My other favourite act was this group of lovely young ladies, obviously of faux-Austrian descent, who where performing a traditional dance of some far off homeland. I whispered to Mumsy “Are they from Griffith, this seems very odd?”. Now if this was a traditional Italian dance I would understand, but this was practically lederhosen. I discovered they had come down on a bus from Sydney! Go figure!

Best part of the day, hands down, was catching up with Cousin Jill who is the yummiest of the yummy-mummies in town. She rocks it let me tell you! And while Cousin Jill and her Spur-man braved the 30min queues for a Kranski I got to play with her 3 gorgeous offspring. And there in a nutshell is why it is so good to come home.

Crowds started to swell but I suddenly realised I didn’t really fit any target demo of La Festa. Families = Brilliant, heaps to do, lovely day out. Young folk = Brilliant, cheap wine, bands, crowd. Single gay man visiting from the Ghetto = I CAN'T FIND VODKA!

I have to face the fact that I am somewhat of a nanna now, gone is my youth of Vintage Festivals as a 19yo. But just to demonstrate my lingering immaturity, for some reason I found this hilarious! The last thing you see as you walked out of La Festa was…

Surely that’s not how you want your guests to remember you? Thats just bad PR.

Bro's Bucks Night

I have to admit, leading up to this momentous event I was very nervous!

While a great honour to be my brothers Best Man (can you imagine my tantrum if he had of asked someone else!) being in charge of organising the Bucks stressed me greatly. What the hell do I know about Bucks Nights, absolutely nothing. Been to many Hen’s Nights over the years but I’d never been to a Bucks before. I was Best Man for one of my oldest and dearest friends many years ago and through my own stupidity I missed the train home and missed the whole thing. It was one the dumbest days of my entire life. So my experience of such festivities is exactly zero.

I was asking everyone for advice and I just kept hearing all the old clichés. Can you imagine me booking a (female) stripper? Or picking up a golf club? These are things I never want to experience. And I’m certainly not wanting to see my brother or any of his friends naked, and no one is having anything shaved on my watch. All that stuff just isn’t me or the Bro. Our stripper days are well and truly over, we are now men of a certain age after all.

So in consultation with Bro we decided to keep it real low key. Bro has his favourite drinking spot and the grand total of our organisation for the big night was a text message to say “Meet us at The Coro at 4pm”. I was hearing lots of talk about food orders and hiring spaces, we skipped all of that and just went with booze.  Simple and hassle free. My Bro and I are absolute polar opposites is nearly every way but on this we both agreed.

Now the key to success on the day was always going to be to have all the cousins there. The boys in our family are the funniest bunch of guys you will ever meet. We are all so different but with strange similarities. I guess that’s because we are all from same chlorine-free gene pool. The running joke before the big day was that it was so ironic that at Bro’s Bucks Night every single cousin was single! The irony being that Bro was always the most unlikely to marry. The universe was playing a little joke on us that we all loved and laughed at. As Cousin T said “lets party like we’re Charlie Sheen”, if only I had the stamina.

To be honest, I can’t really remember much of the detail from the night. It went by so quickly before I had the good sense to pop Bro and me in a cab when he started to fall asleep at the table – my Bro’s signature move. What I do remember is that I spent nearly the whole night laughing. I laughed my ass off. There were so many stories told and jokes told and one-liners used that they all just blend in together. It was just a brilliant night. Always is when we all get together. Bro loved it!

I gotta talk about Uncle C cause he is an absolute fucking legend! He’s not much older than me but he is like the elder statesman of the boys in the family. Uncle C plays hard! No other way to put it. No one can smoke or drink more than Uncle C. And he was on FIRE at the Bucks. Every time he opened his mouth I laughed. Love ya Uncle C. Cousins G and R could keep a stadium entertained once they get on a role. And don’t be fooled by Cousin T’s babyface, aint nothing angelic about what comes out of his mouth.

So all up I loved my first ever Bucks Night. And I’m pretty sure Bro loved it as well. He’s a man of very few words my Bro so you can never be sure with him. Gotta thank Uncle C and the cousins cause they absolutely made the night. Funniest bastards ever. They made the pain of the two day hangover all worth it.

And now the countdown till the wedding begins.

Note: So unlike me but I completely forgot to take photos. So dumb. I can’t believe I forgot, sorry.

Griffith High School; its very odd traditions (+Yr 12 Ball photo)

“I, fresh with glory, ever newly one shall grow” – the English translation of our school motto. How the hell I remember this, or even knew it in the first place, is beyond me. No idea what it means either. We weren’t a school big on pride, closest we got to school spirit was singing the national anthem at assembly.

But having said that, at Griffith High we used to have a number of rather strange traditions. At the time they were the most normal thing in the world but now they just seem odd. And lets be honest, we are going back a few years here. I started at Griffith High in 85 when Cyndi Lauper as top of the charts and finished in 1990 when John Farnham was still cool.

Year 12 lawn

I loved school. Loved it! And I was quite the nerd and quasi-athlete. In fact I think I achieved more between the ages of 12 and 18 then I have since. All that constant re-enforcement did wonders for my already substantial ego. But just to put it in perspective, we worked out at our Year 12 graduation that approximately 1/3 of the girls we started Yr 7 with had had babies by the time we did the HSC. Two sets of twins as well, very proud. Speaking of Yr 12 Graduation…

At Griffith High back then the Year 12 Graduation Ball was an incredibly formal affair. Not sure where the tradition stemmed from but all the girls wore ankle length white gowns and all the boys in matching suits. So glamorous! In 1990 us boys chose a sparkling jade cummerbund and matching bow tie to go with our black tails. So hot! My partner for the presentation waltz was my dear dear friend Alana, and she looked spectacular, jaw-droppingly so! Her dress was very Princess Di and, I hope she won’t mind me saying this, she had the biggest hair I’ve ever seen. We still joke about it every time we see each other. I so clearly remember driving back in the next day from the after-party at someone’s farm and Alana’s hair was still touching the roof of my Datsun 180B.

Alana & I. She is so gonna kill me!

We were also very big on ‘giving away’ at GHS. At the Yr 10 Dance you had someone from Yr 9 give you away, and then again at the Yr 12 Final Assembly you had someone from Yr 11. Quite odd really, something about following in your footsteps, passing the baton, who the hell knows. But it was always cause for much discussion and angst. At Yr 10 Dance I had my first ever girlfriend from 4^th class, Tanya, give me away. I think she had to pin a ribbon on me or something, and I’m sure Bon Jovi were playing. Yr 12 it was the legendary Bobbie M who got to push me out the door. She was incoming Vice-Captain so the honour was forced on her. 

Yr 12 Quad

I was on the Yr 10 Social Committee but for the life of me I can not remember what we were organising. I think our primary function was to feel cool about ourselves. The big annual fundraiser was Slave Day – completely politically incorrect now of course. The committee got dressed up in hessian bags and on a stage in the middle of the Quad we were auctioned off one by one. We were then a slave for the day for the top bidder. I remember I was caught in a bidding war between the Yr 9 girls and the Yr 7 boys, what does that say about my target market???

Nugan Shield was this sporting comp we had against our arch-rival school, Wade High. They were from the posh side of town, at Grffith High we were considerably ‘rougher’. There was a Nugan Shield for winter sports and summer, and all held in one day. The competition was fierce, especially in Yr 7 and 8 when it was actually about sport. Yr 9 and 10 it was about checking out the hotties from the other school. You know the grass is always greener on the other side.

Ahhhh… good times! So many good memories. 

Didn't have the big black fence when I was there! 

My home town Griffith!

"You can take the boy out of Griffith, but you can't take the Griffith out of the boy." Or the other thing I always say, usually in a crowded bar or work event, is "I'm a bogan from Griffith and proud of it!" 

Yes I'm very proud of my home town Griffith, always have been. Loved growing up here, all my family are here, so are lots of my school friends, and SOOOOO many memories that even after 18 years I still get sentimental coming home. I’m back for the weekend for my brothers Bucks Night (read about that on Monday!), and to catch up with all the fam. After the past few weeks its perfect timing to come home and get completely boozed up with the cousins! 

I lived my whole life here until I ventured out into the big bad world when I was 20 to go to Uni. So it’s been a long, long time since I’ve called it home, but still whenever I’m asked where I’m from I say Griffith. It’s a strange place though, lots of contradictions. It’s a big farming town but bizarrely cosmopolitan. Its got fantastic restaurants but absolutely no decent menswear stores. There are lots of jewellers and hair salons but you can’t get a good coffee past noon on a Saturday.

Big wine country.

Now Griffith has a reputation – a long history of scandals. I really didn’t understand it until I moved away and it seemed everyone knew about it. Now thanks to Underbelly it’s taken on a whole new life. I would bet your image of Griffith is completely different to the reality. It’s a good place, normal in ‘almost’ every way. Just a little bit more gold jewellery than your average country town.

So I get home at least twice a year, sometimes more, depending on how many family events we have. I always love coming home. And your hometown is always gonna trigger memories of events and times that are special. I have heaps, especially with my family. But today I'm going with non-family stuff cause I'm sentimental enough as it is, that would push me over the edge.

Between the ages of 10 and 19, if I wasn’t at school than I was at either the indoor or outdoor pool (although now the outdoor is now indoor and the indoor is apartments). I swam competitively for so many years, I permanently stunk of chlorine with brittle, bleached hair. I loved swimming so much but my love for the sport always far outweighed my talent. I am a wide-set midget after-all. But I loved everyone who was ever involved with the Griffith  Swimming Club, and I still wear the t'shirts and use the towels. As rampant teenagers we used to have an absolute ball. I loved those pools and everyone I swum with.

Griffith postcard

I used to be a bank teller. For two years, for the State Bank of NSW. And I thought it was the coolest job ever! It was my first job out of school while I tried to work out what the hell I wanted to do with my life. I worked with this amazing group of women, all hot and all Italian. I went to all of their 21sts and most of their weddings. I think I was a pretty shocking bank teller, spent most of my day flirting with customers or laughing with the girls. I remember at my farewell I sobbed like a baby. Carmela gave me a diamond earring, she was a very special friend and still is!

I had my first ever bourbon and coke at The Area Hotel. Bought for me by a swimming friend of mine to celebrate our HSC results. Yes, and many will find this impossible to believe, I had never tasted alcohol until I was 18 and a half cause I was such a dedicated (and delusional) athlete. The Area Hotel used to go OFF!!! Especially on Xmas Eve and Easter. Easter used to be phenomenal, especially with everyone home from Uni. Every time you’d go there it was a reunion in some way. Still to this day, when I taste a bourbon and coke it takes me straight back to the Area in January ‘91. Back when I had a six-pack.

The Area Hotel

So that is more than enough sentimentality for one day. If you ever get the chance to visit Griffith, I recommend you do. Give me a call for all the local hot tips. It’s a town the locals know best. But if you think the streets are going to be overrun with drugs and mafia-types you will be sadly mistaken. Its a very cool place.