Gender, Justice and Things That Shouldn’T Be
By John Bent
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About this ebook
A collection of stories drawn from life and lived experience, but not biographical, with a theme of basic human values.
The stories related in this book are based on real people in genuine situations. Most of the characters are no longer with us, but their experience shows they have much in common with the characters drawn six hundred years ago by Geoffrey Chaucer and William Langlands. The Greeks and Romans wrote of the same human qualities, which probably endured from prehistory. Tacitus records the vulgarity of extreme wealth. Its still with us.
John Bent
Author John Bent was born and educated in Britain as an agricultural engineer after a rural childhood. He was employed in several counties as a planter and agronomist, farmer and engineering tradesman in industry and mining and has had a lifetime love of great writing.
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Gender, Justice and Things That Shouldn’T Be - John Bent
Copyright © 2013 John Bent.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.
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ISBN: 978-1-4525-1165-8 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4525-1166-5 (e)
Balboa Press rev. date: 09/20/2013
Contents
THE VISITOR’S TALE
PROLOGUE TO THE VISITOR’S TALE
THE VISITOR’S TALE
THE ELECTRICIAN
THE ELECTRICIAN’S PROLOGUE
THE ELECTRICIAN’S TALE
THE PLANTER
THE PLANTER’S PROLOGUE
THE PLANTER’S TALE
THE TEACHER
PROLOGUE TO THE TEACHER’S TALE
THE TEACHER’S TALE
THE DOCTOR
PROLOGUE TO THE DOCTOR’S TALE
THE DOCTOR’S TALE
THE MILLIONAIRE
PROLOGUE TO THE MILLIONAIRE’S TALE
THE MILLIONAIRES TALE
A THEFT IN THE FOREST
TALE OF THE BOY FROM POK POK ISLAND
THE PROLOGUE TO THE TALE OF THE BOY FROM POK POK ISLAND
THE TALE OF THE BOY FROM POK POK ISLAND
OVERRATED
THE UPSIDE OF DOWN IN THE UNLUCKY LIFE OF JIM DUFFY
O ver the years we hear and observe and are sometimes characters in, many stories that become part of who we are and how we look at life. This small group of tales are memorable to me because they have a genuine human message on what it is to be Australian. We have values in common with North Americans, Britains and most of Europe. In recent years we become ever more aware that outside of politics and religion the people on the bottom of the heap in all societies are driven by the same forces of love for family, village and country. We are currently blessed with freedom from savagery, extremism and religious fanaticism; long may it continue
Some of the stories here are drawn from the ancient pleasure of amusing friends in a social setting, like a beach side surf club bar. Others are a lived experience with genuine settings and characters who left their mark on others. Without political bias the stories are largely from the bottom looking up. I have in mind a title I once read in California forty years ago by an author I have long forgotten,
Bin Down So Long It Feels Like Up To Me
.
It’s hardly surprising that Huckleberry Finn was my childhood hero.
THE VISITOR’S TALE
PROLOGUE TO THE VISITOR’S TALE
A mong a group of men drinking beer on a surf club veranda, a grey haired man with sun scarred hands and face was listening intently to a younger man complaining about black people and their bad habits and laziness. He declared,
‘In recent years there have been billions of dollars spent and atmospheres of hot air exhaled by politicians and others on the plight of the aboriginal inhabitants of Australia. All this effort has largely failed to turn them into people with the same motives, urges and ambitions as white people. They say they have not been conquered, but they remain outside the tent. Prime Minister John Howard refused to apologise for their plight and said he Refused to subscribe to the black armband view of history.
His successor, Prime Minister Kevin Rudd took a different view and he eagerly apologised on behalf of the whole nation by claiming he was Sorry
for all the sins of the past.
‘They should all shut up, go away and let those people find their way out of what ever hole they think they are in, in their own way.’
The old gentleman went to the bar for another schooner of beer and when he came back the young fellow was still grumbling. He decided to tell a story in response, to contribute some of his own background and understanding of what he had just heard.
THE VISITOR’S TALE
‘I would like you young fellers to know how things were fifty odd years ago with just a couple of little tales which you can interpret any way you like.
‘I had been in Australia a year or so when I received a letter from an old school mate from England who had sent me the date he would arrive in Sydney. I left my job in the bush for a couple of weeks to go to meet him. We stayed with some men I knew at Blair Street in Bondi and had some fun at the Bondi Rex Hotel and the famous beach just down the hill.
‘One night someone suggested we go see some night life.
‘We wound up at a place called Palmer Street in Parramatta. Hundreds of men were milling about in little streets, like an English mining village. Every house had the front door open onto the street and prostitutes appeared from time to time, silhouetted provocatively against the inside light.
‘The street itself was pitch dark. A steady stream of men went in through these open doors for a few minutes and popped out to be replaced by others. I was astonished that women could be so depraved and a little less so that men could equal them. I had