One Little Word

My Dad had a beautiful but. You could hear it coming a mile off.

Yes you read right.

Dad was one of the most considerate, fair people I knew. A side effect of this was he always seemed to see both sides of a problem, so when weighing up pros and cons of an issue or item, he would list all the good aspects, BUT, then list all the negatives.

One little word can make all the difference.

I catch myself using “just” far too much. “I’m just turning off the computer” (after I’ve checked my email, surfed three news sites, updated my Facebook status, sent two tweets and waited for their replies). “I was just about to do that” (after reading my book / playing PlayStation / oh crap, I completely forgot about that, but I’m not going to let on).

Anyone who watches the plethora of police / highway patrol / breath-testing shows will know that “a couple” of drinks never actually means “two” (unless it’s a couple of litre-sized glasses).

Similarly when a girl says “Oh, you’re so sweet, let’s just be friends” she never means she wants to be friends with you, and especially not “friends with benefits.”

(I only learned what that expression meant in the last few years. Up till that point, to me, “friends with benefits” meant my (male) mate had a Sega Master System, and I only had a Commodore 64, but I digress.)

One little word that will get you chucked out of the Frame household faster than anything is “the”. Especially when it is used as the prefix for “Hawke’s Bay”.

To all the reporters, TV weather people, associated media and general public, may I just say this: “THERE IS NO ‘THE’ IN HAWKE’S BAY!” The same goes for Wairarapa, Waikato and Manawatu, but you still see those three little letters creeping in to daily usage.

“The Hutt Valley” in Wellington, by comparison is fine, as it was a valley named after someone named Hutt (sadly, it wasn’t “Jabba the” – I checked)

“The” is what’s known as a definite article, so must refer to, or precede a noun (naming word) i.e.: the cat, the book. “The Hawke’s Bay Hospital” or “the Hawke’s Bay region” is fine, as they describe the Hospital that is located in Hawke’s Bay and the region known as Hawke’s Bay. But describing the region solely as “The Hawke’s Bay” doesn’t work as it doesn’t describe anything – The Hawke’s Bay what? You don’t say “The Auckland”, “The Canterbury” or “The Otago”, do you?

“Aha!” you may say, the big body of water the region semi-surrounds is Hawke’s Bay, isn’t it? Well, no it’s not. To quote Wikipedia: “The bay itself is Hawke Bay, whereas the region which surrounds it bears the bay’s former name, Hawke’s Bay.”

”Hawke Bay” was named by Captain, then Lieutenant, James (as a Star Trek fan, I always want to add a “T” in the middle here) Cook after Sir Edward Hawke, First Lord of the Admiralty, when Cook arrived here in 1769.

And in any case, using correct grammar and “the” would make it “The Bay of Hawke”, just as our nation’s fellow famous bays are named “The Bay of Islands” and “The Bay of Plenty”

So endeth the lesson, dear reader and media-type. There is no such place as “The Hawke’s Bay”. Please stop referring to it as such, or we may exile you to The Chatham Islands!

Remember my Name – F(r)ame!

I was reading an article in an issue of The Profit a few weeks ago about a local radio announcer and had to have a bit of a giggle. It was nothing to do with the person, or the station at the centre of the article, but the fact they were referred to as a “celebrity”.

They say, if you say a word too many times, it loses its meaning. Well, over recent years, “celebrity” certainly fits that bill. Andy Warhol’s quote about everyone getting “15 minutes of fame” has become less of a cliché and more of a mantra, a life-goal for thousands who’s lives seemingly require attention and adoration of hundreds or thousands to be fulfilled or credible.

I can’t help but feel that Hawke’s Bay is too small or close-knit to have celebrities. Dave the radio announcer is merely our mate Dave, the radio announcer. Margaret the city councillor is just Margaret, the city councillor. Yet we have people (too often the media) insisting on calling them celebrities.

As an example, every year maybe a dozen or more people die on Hawke’s Bay roads. Most of these local, unfortunate and untimely road deaths receive a few column inches in one article in the Hawke’s Bay Today and nothing is heard (or read) of the event again.

Yet earlier this year one road death, that of a model, mother and the wife of a rugby player and former All Black, died in a car accident in the Waikato region. This tragic event received weeks’ worth of coverage – 7 articles in total.

Now, I didn’t know this person, or their family at all and I am sorry for their loss. My problem is with how it was covered. I tend to think that everyone’s life is precious and equally important, so what I want to know is why the Hawke’s Bay Today featured so much of this incident, when they normally don’t feature much of similar death that happens locally. Was it because she was married to someone famous or was perceived, by someone at the paper, to be a celebrity?

Some may say I’m just reinforcing New Zealand’s infamous “Tall Poppy Syndrome” by denouncing the celebrity phenomena.

But what constitutes being a celebrity?

What qualities, above and beyond us mere mortals, do they require? What significant improvement or difference to the world do they make? If the examples set by those who don’t need naming, because they receive far too much attention as it is on our televisions and women’s magazines are anything to go by, it’s very little. They feature in poorly “unscripted” TV shows that follow them around doing things regular people do, or “strand” them on some desert island with a bunch of similar “celebrities” to see who can “survive” the longest or “outlast” their competition (anyone in these circles being capable of “outwitting” anyone else is a bridge too far, apparently). Their every meal, fashion choice or romantic liaison deserves cover-story status on thousands of publications. What a joke.

I think there should be less focus on celebrity and far more focus on credibility. Why not focus more on those people who truly deserve celebrating? Caring parents, influential teachers and business leaders, people who make a real difference to our world and lives.

Last month I nearly lost my father – he is my “celebrity”, my hero and inspiration.

He had a cold that had stealthily developed into pneumonia and was taken to the hospital, where he actually stopped breathing and spent a couple days in Intensive Care Unit, unconscious, hooked up to a ventilator.

The ICU of any hospital is not somewhere you really want to end up, either as a patient, or as a close family member.

It’s where those who are the sickest, the most at risk of dying are looked after.

One thing that sticks in my mind is the staff – the doctors and nurses who work in this most tense and delicate environment. They were friendly, caring (to both patients and shell-shocked relatives), calm, informative, skilled and utterly professional.

Bells, whistles and buzzers would go off at random intervals and they would barely blink an eyelid, just do what needed to be done.

Dad has since made a full recovery, but it was a close-run thing.

I think the staff of the ICU deserve celebrity status, but they’d just say they were only doing their jobs.

Where in the World is Z Kennedy Road?

I’m a little geographically confused. I regularly get my petrol from Z Kennedy Road in Napier. With a name like “Z Kennedy Road” you would think it would be located on, well, Kennedy Road, right?

Wrong!

Napier’s Kennedy Road starts at the lights where Wellesley Road bisects it, about 50 meters from the central city service station, which is physically located on the corner of Station Street and Tennyson Street (which ends at the same Wellesley Road corner).

But the confusion doesn’t end there – I was having a look at the till receipt from a recent petrol purchase and noticed it lists Z Kennedy Road’s address as “256 Dickens Street”. This would put it across Station Street and somewhere in the middle of the Countdown Napier supermarket’s car park!

And let’s not even go into why there are TWO Countdown Supermarkets in Napier opposite it!

With such geographic bamboozlement, uncertainty and inaccuracy, perhaps the people of Napier could claim Z Kennedy Road as a sovereign territory, surely the world’s smallest (look out Vatican City!)?

It could be a very affluent nation – I hear there’s a very good chance of finding rich petroleum reserves not too far underground (that’s if we decided to drill).

International relations, too, would be a strong feature of our new nation’s economy, with the neighboring ‘Kingdom of Burger’ and plentiful food sources nearby in The Duchy of Pak n’ Save.

Backing onto the Napier – Gisborne rail line, the “Napier Peoples’ Republic of Z Kennedy Road” (a bit of a mouthful, admittedly) could conceivably claim that too, as recent New Zealand governments certainly didn’t seem to want to operate the nation’s rail lines, or look after the regions.

So if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to the United Nations to lay our claim.

All we need now is a flag and national anthem.

Any ideas?

The Kids Aren’t All Right

Attending to the needs of the younger members of its population is all too often overlooked by local and national governments around the world. In the local case of youth and city councils, this appears to certainly be one thing Hastings does better than Napier.

I was a member of the “Napier City Council Youth Forum” in 1995 – a collection of senior students from all Napier’s High Schools and EIT. We got together once a month to discuss the issues facing
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The Colour of Hawke’s Bay

Some New Zealand bays are full of islands,

Others are plentiful.

But no bay has more color than Hawke’s Bay!

It should come as no surprise, from a place whose rugby team wears the opposite spectrums of magpie black and white.

Majestic Hawke Bay ocean hues: turquoise to navy, cold, hard grays to soft, saline foamy whites.

The lush, fruitful Heretaunga Plains – braeburn red and packham green.

Vineyard covered hills, bleached chardonnay by the summer sun, slowly turning pinot noir in the long evening light.
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