Chapter 104 :Return to not work

Sometimes when you retire you return to your place of previous employment.

Well this is the way it went for me.

In 1994 I started a dental surgery in the middle of Hobart.  I worked there for about twenty years. It was my practice.  The practice I created. I put my life into it. It resonated with my personality. When I was awake I spent more time there than anywhere else. 

Today I am taking one of my grandchildren to the dentist. To see a dentist working were I used to work.  In the same room with the same chair.

The waiting room has changed. A new screen for the computer. That’s new and better. They had to change that. Gertrude, my grandchild starts arranging the toys on the floor. I aim for the pile of magazines.

There is another man waiting. I greet him.  Things used to be different. I used to work here and he would occasionally visit me.   Now we sit side by side. We have to find something to talk about. We can’t talk about his teeth. That topic has gone. It’s now forbidden.

Another patient arrives. She greets me cheerfully and says, “When are you going to come back?”

I say, “I am never coming back. I enjoyed my time here. But now it’s time for someone else to work here and time for me to do something else.”

Gertrude is called into the surgery. I follow. The much wiped chair is central to the room.  The ceiling is just the way I arranged it. Replete with pictures that I placed there.  Wow I remember that picture of Dexter. That dog is dead now.

What’s that machine over there? That’s new.  What have they done with this room? They have altered it.  They did that without asking me. They are treating it like they own the place.

When working as a dentist you often see and inherit the work of another dentist. Broken fillings. Failed crowns or rampant decay. I wonder what they are seeing. They are seeing all my old work. What are they thinking of it.  How is my work coping?

After selling the practice there was the first time I returned.  I spent the whole visit thinking about what they should do. They must look out for that autoclave. It can be unpredictable. You can tell by the noise it makes. I must tell them about the air-conditioner. How to control the apparently uncontrollable air-conditioner.  And that drawer is a perfect spot for the bibs. 

I felt like a retired cricketer commentating on the cricket. He should be standing slightly more upright. That would help him counter the bounce.

Today I no longer have the urge to tell them what to do. I have gone past being an expert commentator. I no longer feel I should tell them anything. I sit back and think, “Do whatever you want. It’s your practice - do it your way. You will make mistakes and you will learn from them.”

The dentist seeing Gertrude has the nightmare of working with me watching her. Gertrude sits on the chair and the chair changes shape. She wears sunglasses and a bib.  She is very happy as she gets her teeth polished and cleaned and then she receives some stickers.

I am not sure how much the dentist working here knows about me. Does she realise her job and this place depends on me. Does she know that without me that chair would not be there? She would be working elsewhere.

Well I know this practice would be nothing without her.  The current owners and staff have taken the tree I planted, watered it, fed it and nurtured it. Without them it would be dead. They have given the practice life. New enthusiastic ways of doing things.

This practice needs us both. And one day it may need someone else.

Walking down the stairs I am very happy to see the practice functioning so well. I am happy to see so many patients who have moved on. They are now seeing somebody else and are happy with their new dentist. I am happy not to be missed.

Writing this my thoughts turn to my grandfather, Clarrie Carlton. His life was the newspaper he started.  In 1965 he sold the newspaper to a man called Rupert Murdoch. Somehow he had to find a way of living after his precious baby went in new directions.  The paper he gave birth to is still going strong more than 50 years after he sold it. He would be happy with that.

Chapter 103: the Domain

With my grandchildren I walk on a hill on the Domain. This is an opportunity for me to pretend I know more than them. I say, “This hill is the place were radio masts were erected in 1911 in order to communicate with the Antarctic.”

I ask them, “Imagine you are at the other end of this radio in the Antarctic. What are you going to say?”

Gertrude says, “I would upload a picture of the penguins.”

I say, “Well you have a good point there. Because Mawson went their largely for scientific reasons. They did go there to look at the penguins.”

My grandchildren know the name Mawson because of the huts on the docks. After much talking we agree Mawson went to the Antarctic in 1912 and erected huts in the Antarctic (copies of  are now on our docks in Hobart) and spoke to Australia via the Domain.

Moving on we head towards some concrete slabs on the east side of the hill.  I say, “Do you have any idea what was built here.”

They are mute so I inform them, “A number of defense force installations were built on the Domain.”

Bruce says, “Where’s the big gun?”

“Bruce you’re thinking of a different place.  That gun (Bellerive) was built a long time before the buildings over here. The concrete placed here was for the war against the Japanese between 1939 and 1945.”

Bruce hears the word war which excites him.

“Wow I can use my light sword.” says Bruce.

 Bruce swings a branch around as a light sword. His favourite films include light swords, goodies and baddies. To think this could have happened up here on the Domain.

I pretend I am a responsible adult and tell him, “We would prefer to be friends with Japan. To eat sushi and drive Toyota cars. We both win if we work together.”

Bruce continues hitting plants and de-heading grass with his stick. He says, “We will defeat them.”

I say to Bruce, “Imagine you are in class and the teacher ask you to draw a picture. You can fight with the person on the next table. Break his pencils and rip up his paper. To stop him drawing a better picture than you.  Another option is that you can work together. Help each other. Which way are you going to go?”

Bruce keeps waving his stick around wishing it was a light saver. He pauses slightly. 

He is torn. He loves drawing with his classmates.  And he loves films involving fighting between goodies and badies.  

I tell Bruce, “There was no war on the Domain. The Japanese never came anywhere near Hobart.”

The political correct angel is sitting on my shoulder telling me to tell them the full story. 

“Bruce and Gertrude. The Japanese did not fight a war here. Can you tell me of any war fought anywhere near here?”

That is a rhetorical question because I know they will not answer it.

My answer is that in 1803 Britain decided to come here and start another colony of the British Empire. When they arrived there were already aborigines living here.  There were many differences and clashes between the two groups of people. Many of these clashes involved violence. The aboriginal people living on the Domain were invaded and fought to protect their way of life.

Gertrude says, “So that’s why we have the Cenotaph.”

“No you are not correct. The Cenotaph is a memorial to other brave and courageous Tasmanians.” 

  

Bruce throws his stick away and says, “Everybody should have drawn pictures together. They should have worked together.”

They both find the idea of aborigines living on the Domain difficult to comprehend.

Gertrude says “Where did they live? There are no houses up here.”

I have to agree. There are no houses on the Domain.  I decide there is only one thing I can show them that might prove that at one time aboriginals did lived up here.

We head down towards the river. I show them piles of shells in the banks below the path running beside the Derwent River.  They look at the shells. I say, “What are these shells telling you.”

We discuss the shells but I am distracted. The name of the Queens Domain should be changed.  Prior to 1803 it was managed by the Mouheneenner aboriginal people. In 1860 the Governor handed the Queens Domain to the people of Hobart. 

Either give the Queens Domain a name that recognizes the aboriginals who lived there or do what everybody does call it.  Call it the Domain. Let’s get rid of the Queen from Queens Domain. The present Queen doesn’t own it. She rarely visits. And has no direct interest in managing  the Domain.