Life #3: Social Graduation
This chapter is dedicated to passionate teachers and cherished formative friends as we graduated into adulthood.
My mother wanted me to be a bookkeeper
Leave school, get a job, fend off the grim reaper
And then settle down
In my country hometown
The more she suggested, my heels dug deeper
For I’d aspired that the lyrics of life would bring
A far more compelling ballad to sing
A more moving melody,
Not a bookkeeping parody
Of abacus, quill pen and that green eyeshade thing
So fortunate for friends with more ambitious plans
Influencing each other with helping hands
Such brotherly buddies
Through fun times and studies
After lifelong journeys, deep kinships still stand
Like my first school friend, that I met in Year One
In always the same class, became an excellent chum
The guiding life of Brian
With the heart of a lion
We could not have known then, of what would become
Many thanks to Mr. Wightman, who when we were twelve
Was more than a teacher, when he deeply delved
Beyond maths and spelling
He wanted us excelling
With a kickstart in life, to extend ourselves
Then Tauranga Boys’ College, for secondary education
Building solid foundations for future vocation
No private school features,
Just passionate teachers
Nurturing our progress with professional dedication
In elective subjects, we made the same choice
Top marks in exams, to curious rejoice
So the case was mounting
For a career in accounting
Subconsciously succumbed, to Mum’s bookkeeping voice
By now we’d met Chris — or Ophie by name
Then a studious fellow, in a short squat frame
Around town we roamed
In parents’ cars loaned
Even girls that they swooned, were one and the same
We dabbled with drinking, or fishing we went
Or tramping and camping in a leaky tent
Or we’d hit the road
As Mole, Rat and Toad
On bone-shaking bikes, some buckled and bent
Then down to Otago the three of us flew
Seventeen-year-old students, a motley crew
So far from home
I felt quite alone
Then with Flapper and Smarty, new friendships grew
Brahms and Liszt at parties, in Cockney rhyming
Or we’d hit the slopes skiing, or mountain climbing
Just a billy and pack
Tramping many a track
Luckily graduated, with impeccable timing
Smarty moved north, to be a kiwifruit farmer
On the pine-clad island of Matakana
Ophie chose to enlist
As a lumbologist
The rest embarked on an accounting charter
Flapper and I joined a small Dunedin firm
Accounting for farmers and livestock churn
But soon we converged
When Brian’s firm merged
We were destined to stay as a going concern
With Ophie, I shared a house by the ocean
At Opholm Kottage, there was always commotion
Special tee-shirts were made
For friends who stayed
But soon travel plans were set into motion
Our South American adventure, was hatched on a run
Maybe our planning was a bit underdone
Mountain passes unprepared
Chased by Incas, running scared
There’ll be more travelling tales in stories to come
So this is a tribute to my formative friends
As we graduated to responsible men
Gratitude unbounded
For keeping me grounded
In the meaning of life …. cherished friendships transcend.
Kevin Holmes • 18th October 2022
