THE NAME ABOVE iL
Autobiography Dieter R. Fischer Book 9
|6. Go wild, c 50
The very next day after ESP Sep Sunday I heard on the news about a murder. Ever since the notorious mass killings in the 90's, after the bodies of victims had been found in barrels in Snowtown, Adelaide had acquired the reputation as murder capital of Australia. No panic, please! We're not any worse than other places.
The location of the crime, Callington, not quite an hour's drive from Adelaide, and the circumstances surrounding it, drew my attention. A woman, a 63-year old retired nurse from Finland, who lived on her own, had been found dead in her home in this otherwise sleepy township east of the Adelaide Hills.
Soon after the news of the crime a controversy arouse. My analytical mind saw the central issue, a [phone] call in the first four letters of the town's name.
A large part of the news reports in the days following was the phone call the dead woman had allegedly made to the police emergency number, calling for help. The phone operator, however, misread the gravity of the woman's call. No police patrol was sent to the house. Sixteen hours later a family member, according to reports, found her dead body.
Nowhere at first was it reported how she died. Within days two 14-year-old youths were arrested and charged with the murder.
Not thinking about above story, on Thursday September 16th, I was motoring in my good old, faithful Suzuki east on the Princes Highway. I was on my way to Melbourne. In 09 I had done this journey in my Suzuki five times. This was the first major trip in 2010. Again I was on my own, driving in the 'green machine', whose odometer is nearing 300 000 kilometres travelled. (Let me add - without ever breaking down).
Approaching the turn-off to the township, my mind pondered Callington, but not the murder at first. I thought of a moment in my life, when I felt real good, very briefly. Those of us who had it, would also relish such an experience:
Right near the turn-off to Callington I noticed a worker riding a lawn mower. My analysing mind must have suddenly viewed the first six letters of the town's name. So I did ...why, not? The alternative route through Callington would only take a few minutes longer than the freeway. And I had all day to get to Melbourne.
I had googled the murdered woman's name and looked up the address - Murray Street. The town is only small, and Murray Street is a main road. I needn't have worried, I found the crime scene easily.
Having left the freeway, driving over the Bremer River bridge, the view was that of a picture postcard. The sun had just risen in the east, the shadows still rather long. I parked the Suzuki in the town, walked back past the police van, which was parked outside the famous house and took this photo:
Callington, South Australia, established after copper was discovered in 1850.
On my way back I again passed the police van and the officer standing guard. I was tempted to ask a few questions. I did not even risk a good look at the 4 WD parked in front of the house. I did see the FIN sticker (the International letters for Finland) in the vehicle's side window. My brain wants to insert an E into FINLAND, but I have never been there. So who knows, is it a fine land?
At Murray Bridge I shopped for supplies. In the car park I noted a police vehicle. A uniformed policeman was talking to a few people, taking notes. (No I don't mean to say he was taking ... forget it).
I had angle-parked, without planning to, facing a registration plate 069. The police vehicle was ...013. My mentioning this, and my general interest in numbers, is perceived by many as an obsession; my family even thinks it's an illness.
A friend from Germany emailed this week and pointed to the film 'Mozart und der Wal' (Mozart and the Whale), which she told me deals with Asperger Syndrome. (Googling this revealed a few names, etc.) Whatever!
WEW 228 = V V V V (Roman numerals] = 20 + 228 = 248 = 2 x 48 = 96.
At Bordertown I stopped and took a break. Looking for a quiet spot to eat my lunch I parked on the edge of town, on the street which leads to the railway station. As I was eating my salami roll, listening to the radio, on ABC's Radio National Phillip Adams was interviewing an author. At one point in the program they mentioned ... salami. In my writings salami is a food with history ...
After food and a refreshing walk around the town, I was about to drive off, when I noticed that I had parked at Soldier's Park. The street sign read 'Hay Street'.
My next prolonged stop was Stawell. The weather was unusually cold for spring in Australia. But I needed a walk, which I took, along the main street. On the pavement of Stawell's 'Hollywood Walk of Fame' were the names of the winners of the annual Stawell Gift, a traditional running race, held since 1878. Much like in LA's Hollywood Boulevard visitors find themselves walking along and looking down, as if trying to find a lost 5 cent coin.
I didn't find any coins, (they come later in this chapter), rather I took note of the plaques of winners, engraved on the pavement at Stawell. Three winners stood out, because they came from South Australia. Amazing, since I had just been thinking about 96, the winner in 1896 and the winner in 1996 both came from South Australia.
In 1905* the winner also came from South Australia. His name was CN McKenzie. (*My diary reads 1935. A reason for another visit to Stawell?)
At Stawell I had a 1500 encounter. (This is what I was going to start writing before the Stop Press). It simply was a registration plate I saw during my brief walk back toward my vehicle. On the same side of the town hall a vehicle carried MD 1500. So I'm not alone in my love for numbers, Roman and otherwise.
My plan to drive to Melbourne had changed at Murray Bridge. I had remembered an invitation I had received from a friend, who had moved from our neighbourhood in Para Hills to Ocean Grove, a seaside town near Geelong.
"If you ever come this way you can stay with me, plenty of room", I remembered that day. Since I had not booked a bed in Melbourne, it only took a brief phone call to arrange it.
I spent a lovely evening with my hosts, a retired engineer and his well travelled, academic twin brother. I could have sat for hours listening to the stories about all the exotic places they had travelled to, and the projects he worked on.
The next morning, I had to depart to keep an appointment in Melbourne's Eastern suburbs. It was one of two reasons for this trip. That Friday I was to sign a contract to finalize the sale of the driving-school part of my twin-website. (This auto-biography being the other).
The second reason was to attend a meeting on the Saturday with an Australian legend, one I had touched base with briefly in my Book 1. The energetic young man turned 50 Dollars into a 20 million Dollar business in only 5 years.
Before leaving Ocean Grove to drive to Melbourne I wanted to just take a look at Barwon Heads. I find one of life's simple pleasures is to be walking in a street, where I had never walked before. When I was moving all over town as a driving instructor, working the same districts in Adelaide, I regularly heard my brain say: "I don't think I've ever been in this street before".
It was only a slight detour and a few minutes into Barwon Heads, a town situated on the mouth of the Barwon River. The traffic that Saturday morning was rather busy. The construction work on the new bridge over the Barwon River was to blame. (The new bridge is about to be completed as I write, early October 2010).
Not knowing the place much I simply parked at the first opportunity, so I could take a walk for some exercise. Having started this chapter with a murder, the name Hitchcock, kind of, matches. I later found I had parked in Hitchcock Av.
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Hitchcock Av, Barwon Heads, Victoria
Anyone for a bargain? Visit your local Salvos Store and ...
... go wild with 50 c.
(Back on the road to Melbourne)
It was Friday 17/9 as I crossed the landmark Westgate Bridge across Melbourne's docklands into the Heart of Melbourne. (As I wrote heart I was reminded - a heart story was waiting for me two days later (next chapter, God willing).
I booked into a 3-bed dorm at the YHA in Flinders Street. Within minutes I was on my way to meet the buyer of my website in the Eastern suburbs.
Having visited Melbourne many times, and invested in a road map, I found the address of my business partner without a problem. I was pleased with myself, arriving at his address exactly 3 minutes to the time we had agreed to meet - midday.
The driving instructor, who was taking over my website driving-school.com.au, was more than a business partner. He was also a Christian. Six weeks earlier he had made a special trip to Adelaide to meet me. We both found that we had similar interests, a commitment to spread the Good News of Jesus, and teaching young people safe driving; safety - both physically and spiritually. Why not?
I spent most of the afternoon with my friend, discussing our business over lunch and signing our papers.
Traffic on the way back into Melbourne was very heavy, especially closer to town. One reason for this was a football match, played that same evening. It was the AFL preliminary final between Collingwood and archrivals Geelong.
A little research revealed some interesting numbers. The same two teams in the previous year's competition were also playing for a place in the grand final. At that time Geelong kicked Collingwood into oblivion, scoring 120 points (compared to 47 Collingwood). They went on to become champions for 2009. (I recall watching the end of the grand final in a pub on Magnetic Island, Queensland).
That Friday, a year later (on 17/9/10) both teams again were battling it out at Melbourne's holy ground, the MCG - Melbourne Cricket Ground. The winner that night would progress to the grand final a week later.
Out of curiosity I took a cycle along the Yarra River to take a look. It was a cold evening. I got there right on the 1/4 time break. To greet my friend Geoff back in Adelaide I sent him a text message from outside Gate 2. Sending a text message for oldies like me is usually an afternoon project. But I kept it short and was glad to get back to the relative comfort of the YHA hostel.
Later I learned of the peculiarity in the score in this match. Just like a year earlier, same teams, same venue, same preliminary final, the winner won by scoring ... again 120 points. Except it was Collingwood's turn to win. Geelong, managed a remarkable 79 points.
Why is 79 remarkable, I hear you ask? Well, together with 120 we only needed 10 to complete that date: 17.9.20...10.
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Sign on roadside in Eastern Suburbs, Melbourne:
GOOD NEWS, DOG IS HOME, THANK YOU ALL
BAD NEWS - HUMANS, NO HOME
Not that I would condemn anyone for being rich. It's not a sin to be rich, only if you amassed your fortune by lying and cheating, or otherwise caused the ruin of less fortunate people, who crossed your path to 'success'. (More importantly, what do you do with it?)
My second reason for coming to Melbourne was a rich man, Justin Herald. Not for one moment would I think that he made his fortune in any other way than hard work and determination. I had booked into his Melbourne seminar, a boot-camp for entrepneurs. It only cost $ 49.95 (take note!). It was a bargain.
In my Book 1, under very unusual circumstances, I had written to him, asking for possible financial support. I can't describe how I now feel about it. Embarrassed is too strong a word. Definitely no shame; shy perhaps? The contact was part of my journey, none or which I need to feel shame about. I saw not point in now mentioning a letter I had written to him six or more years ago.
Here is how Justin Herald introduces himself on his website:
What was so refreshing meeting the gentleman, he was so approachable. During a phone conversation from Ocean Grove my wife informed me that somebody had phoned our home to remind me of the Melbourne event. I questioned my wife: "Are you sure it was Justin Herald himself ringing?" She answered: "Yes, that's who he said he was."
I said: "Did you realize you spoke to someone, who was featured on the front page of Readers Digest Magazine?" By here response I sensed that it would have made little difference, had I been meeting up with Barack Obama and he himself would have phoned to confirm arrangements. That's my laidback lady with the initials IL.
Justin's Attitude business had crossed my path after I went through my own Attitude experience. I had written a road safety book, forming six attitudes drivers should cultivate to be safe on the road. Later, in an uncanny parallel, I realized that the same attitudes could be applied to live a Christian life. If Justin lives the life his father taught him, he is rich in all ways possible.
I had cycled on my GIANT to the venue of the boot-camp in South Yarra. On the way I picked up a 10 cent coin. It was real close to the history laden JE parking meter at the bottom of Elizabeth Street. The coin is now part of my diary's coin collection, my superannuation fun.
The venue of the seminar is also a gallery. Soon after taking a seat in the front row, I noted a picture on the wall, right where I was sitting. The artist's name confused me. I almost said it annoyed me: Beth McAnoy. A familiar name is McAvoy. I didn't know what to make of the VN code.
Since Justin had made his fortune with fashion clothing, he and the course participants were wearing it: ELWOOD 96, NO FEAR 90 etc. (I was wearing my SOVLAS gear backwards).
The speaker's latest project are sunglasses - INTIMIDATE, starting at $ 200 or less. I was careful to keep my six-ninety-five Browse-in bargain choppers from public view.
At lunch time I jumped onto my bicycle to ride the short distance to South Yarra, the place where so much had taken place during previous Melbourne excursions. On the way I passed a wedding. Or should I say, I passed a couple, who was obviously getting married, a photographer taking pictures and another person, most likely the chauffeur of the luxury Bentley.
The address teased my coded brain almost as much as the name McAnoy. It should not have, but it was, simply because my active mind reads things into it: 9 Darling Street. The place looked classy from the outside. Their website just informed me: The venue features elegant furnishings, antiques, gilt mirrors, French tapestries and a marble fireplace. (Getting married among such luxury, surely, guarantees a long, happy marriage!)
Aha, a French Connection! No two!
At the YHA somebody annoyed me with labels. A few guests in the kitchen had labelled their normal food supplies, using the hostel's labels. However, I had read a sign: 'Do not label food unless stored in the refrigerator'. Somebody, who had by mistake labelled their non-perishables, placed a label onto mine, trying to teach me a lesson! As if I was breaking the rules! In the end I got the message: LA.B.EL).
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In the evening I had to walk from the Flinders Street YHA to my vehicle, parked some distance away just off Spencer Street, to fetch something. On the way back, why not a brief detour, another walk down memory lane? So I detoured via the place, where years ago I had taken a photo of a large letter M, with a Seven Eleven convenience store in the background. I noticed AXA may have moved from that location?
It had been raining. The pavement was wet. That's why I almost missed a large, lavender coloured piece of debris on the footpath. Here is a scan, which I had to do in two parts. The actual size is 50 x 31 cm (20 in x 12.5 in).
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The rest of my weekend's observations in Melbourne deserve a little more than to be squeezed into this chapter. Let me instead finish by fast forwarding the clock one week. I'd like to end the chapter with another tie story.
The first weekend back in Adelaide I had a major coin-incident. I found $ 1.30 within a few minutes and about two kilometers of each other. (I had to report this here - the date of uploading 3.10).
The annual world famous car rally Bay to Birdwood was held on that beautiful, sunny Sunday 26th September. What a perfect time to take the GIANT for a ride. I called the event 'cycling with the cars'. On the home journey, turning from busy Northeast Road into Hancock Road, a round brass bit looked very much like a Dollar coin. For that it was worth stopping the traffic to retrieve it.
Only a few minutes later, at the corner Golden Grove / Milne Road, outside the football ground, I saw a 10 cent coin, and two 5 cents right nearby. For a moment I thought, 1.20 in one day? That's a very high average. But there was more. Only 20 metres away, after turning right onto Golden Grove Road, on the bike lane was another 10 cent coin.
Now the average in coin-spotting had really skyrocketed.
But what goes with 130 better than a tie? (I write it as it was.) Earlier that afternoon, at the commencement of my ride I was grinding my way up Northeast Road. Near Newman's Nursery, on the side of the road, but easy to spot, I saw a dirty tie.
Since a tie had featured so prominently in my previous upload, I put this one onto the back of my bike. Looking back, I'm glad I kept it.
I had only just mounted my bike again, when a white piece of cloth (not a white shirt ...?) was laying within metres of where I had found the tie. (My brain computed tie / white shirt ... it matched). I also kept the rag.
Both items had a label attached, which back home I removed and stuck into my diary. I only could do so, after retrieving it from the trash bin. I never understand this - why would a person (my wife) not show any reaction to a phone call from an Australian living legend, yet let a piece of old rag, on the floor of her husband's office, cause her so much stress, the piece of cloth needed to be dealt with immediately - into the trash bin).
But I rescued it! Don't they say, one person's trash is another's treasure? Here's my treasure, the labels, removed from the fashion clothing and stuck into my diary:
When something starts with RE - it's about something.
Minus M = Re brandt?
In between 'Dry Clean Only' and 'Warm Press' I saw a clue - P 50* = P L.
Sorry, about showing off another tie! But better than another tie at the football !
(The journey in Melbourne to be continued next chapter, God willing)