Happiness (The Pursuit of, or the Discovery
of)
Eric Weiner authored “The
Geography of Happiness” in which he levered off of Dr. Fordyce’s World Database of Happiness. It should be no surprise that Dr.
Fordyce is a faculty member of Erasmus University, Holland. There must be a strong correlation
between an abundance of grad students and the significantly liberal environment
in Holland. Can you imagine how
that conversation goes?
“So, Dad, I’ve
decided to pursue graduate studies,” announces a resolute and pround child.
“Great, what
are you taking?” You can almost
hear the relief washing over the father, with visions of his skateboarding,
heavy metal listening, gig going, no good friend and harpy of a girlfriend
cavorting son ‘straightening up’ and getting ready to ‘fly right’ and setting
on a course to be a doctor, lawyer or other leader of men.
“Happiness
Studies at Erasmus in Holland”
Long pause. Continued long pause…. “So you’ll tell
your mother then, right?”
At any rate, the World
Database of Happiness lists the scores of various states and provides a
rather nebulous “happiness index”.
Perhaps predictably, Latvia scores the lowest, with alarmingly high incidences
of suicide and alcoholism. By
contrast, Iceland, at least during the time that the book was written, boasted
the highest “happiness rating”, further making this odd is the reportedly high
level of alcohol consumption and long
dark nights. I suppose it’s a fine
line between use and misuse of alcohol.
But I also must admit, some of my happier times have included short
periods of sunlight filled with alcohol and reason enough to stay indoors….but
I digress.
Unfortunately, Australia was not covered in Weiner’s book. While I’ve no idea how this
Commonwealth of States would have faired, Brisbane should be expected to score
high. Of course this conclusion is
based merely on anecdotal observations and how much Nicole and I have enjoyed
being here. Things are still
strange and we often come across things that we don’t completely
understand.
For instance the public service announcements displayed on taxis
“Do you know where to send your mate, when he says life sucks?” Due to the
combination of soft edges and blurry graphics on the poster and illegibly small
print, it was weeks before we knew if this was a sign for suicide prevention or
a brothel.
This is especially given that suicide doesn’t seem to be much of
an issue in Brissie. Unlike any
other major city that I’ve been to with a network of large bridges, Brisbane
lacks any barriers on the bridges (except for one bridge, oddly) to prevent
people from jumping into the river.
This is not withstanding that there are bridges with a 35m (~100 feet or
10 stories)[1]
freefall from deck to a river that is deep, dirty, busy with boat and ferry
traffic and is home to roughly 500 bull sharks.[2]
In fact the landmark Story Bridge has a rail that is low enough
that at it’s mesmerizing height it appears to me that if I was as cool (and as
fit) as Daniel Craig, or really any other Bond, I would be able to jump from
the sidewalk on the bridge to the buildings or at least the cranes that are
immediately adjacent. My fitness
goals don’t include becoming fit enough.
But it least suggests that the problem of suicide isn’t that big of a
deal here.
Again, I’m jumping to conclusions regarding suicide, but consider
the following. Despite being a
very active and seemingly athletic population, but there is also 24% of the
population are self declared “smokers”.
Personally, I think that this is a throw back to when Australia monetarized
their currency, in order to make international trade possible. When the Australian dollar (AUD) was
introduced to a population that was largely based upon a penal colony, the
unofficial currency of cigarettes and Rita Haywood pin-ups faced enormous
pressure. The led to the “Smoke ‘em
if you got ‘em” policy of the Commonwealth government of the day[3]. There was a short conversion window,
but then the original currency would simply become another consumable product.
To this day, smoking seems to be enjoyed without apology (whereas
Rita Haywood posters are a more discrete indulgence). Unlike North America, where smoking in public has been
vilified, smokers don’t seem to be bothered that children are around. Even the most callous of smokers in
Calgary would make efforts to keep the effects away from children when you’d
walk past them. This is certainly
not the case here. But it’s not
just second hand smoke that imperils the populace in Australia.
Australia is loaded with dangers and things that are capable if
either causing significant discomfort or death. While we haven’t seen any crocs, alligators, deadly spiders,
venomous snakes, sharks (not even any of the 500 that are supposed to be
resident in the Brisbane River), dingos or other disease carrying creatures, we
have been faced with a particular local danger on a daily basis. A source of peril particularly
frightening to Spencer and Nicole is food poisoning. Given my role in the meal preparation, my girls have every
right to be concerned.
According to national statistics, ¼ of all Australians are
annually affected by food poisoning.
Food Poisoning, in a developed country! In fact new daily cases are pegged at 11,500 and 120 annual
related deaths are attributed.
Seems counter-intuitive, but then I discovered that food storage in a
tropical environment is the leading cause for people ingesting contaminated food.[4] I would have guessed excessive
consumption of liquid food products causing flu like symptoms, but I’ve been
called both a sissy and jaded for such views. But it is in fact ingesting food that is the culprit. (Again a lesson in Australian
culture: don’t blame the alcohol.)
As far as my level of responsibility goes, I’ve applied some basic
tort principles, were if everyone is ok after 2 days, then I figure enough time
has passed, to introduce a sufficient amount of intervening events to assuage
my liability. Unfortunately, this
is defeated when I make meals on multiple days. Upon my return to work, Nicole has been all to happy to rush
back into the kitchen and save our family from danger.
Unlike the Brisbane experience, The Gap, a suburb of Sydney has a
more interesting history. Due to
the location that includes sheer cliffs, rocks and a deep harbour, known both
for it’s population of sharks and mercurial tide, The Gap seems to be a popular
locale for making terminal decisions.
One local resident, Donald Ritchie, who lives in close proximity to this
fateful place, has become a local hero for dissuading people from their fatal
acts.[5] I would encourage you to read the referenced
article as it is very compelling, although the article lacks the words of the
siren song that Ritchie had sang.
Given the overwhelming presence of other mortal dangers here, and
Australian’s particular form of humor, you could imagine the conversation initiated
by Mr Ritchie.
“Hey mate,
feeling like a lizzie’s belly (translation - as low as a lizard’s belly)?”
“Whimper,
whimper, curse, life sucks and isn’t worth living.”
“Oh com’on
mate, the cricket isn’t that bad.”
“It’s not just
the cricket….[explanation of other less than perfectly desirable things leading
to terminal decision].
“Yeah, well
mate that is bad and I can’t say I
blame you. Hell, I’d probably jump
to.”
“Ya think so?”
“Sure thing
mate, you’re right the cricket isn’t that bad, but did you see the Wallabies
get shocked by the All Blacks again?
Hey how much life insurance do you have?”
“[answer],
why.”
“Well you know,
it probably doesn’t payout on a suicide.
Have you checked?”
“Ah,
well…no. Shit, just get’s
worse. What can a bloke do?”
“Well make,
let’s have a look-see. You know if
you die by accident or criminal wrong doing these policies pay double. That will sort things out hey lad?”
“Sure would.”
“Why don’t you
come back to my place and we can have a smoke. I think my missus has some potato salad that’s been out
since morning….maybe we can go for a swim later, when you’re ‘feeling
better’.” Of course after a smoke,
some tea, a beer and what not, everyone is feeling better, after all that’s
what mates are for.[6]
Cudos to Mr Ritchie indeed.
Anyone that chooses to become involved in the affairs of others rather
than turning back to the telly is a hero in my book. The truth is that the world is better for people like
Ritchie and his acts should inspire us all to be better. To help others. To help ourselves. To tell our families that we love them
and to try and leave our world a better place than we found it.
Of course it’s hard, but then Ritchie does represent the everyman
Australian view of their neighbors.
Aussies are quick to stop and offer a hand and don’t like seeing people
who are down. Without doubt, we need more Ritchies
in our world.
But this doesn’t mean that rain doesn’t fall in Brisbane, or even
on The Gap, notwithstanding Ritchie’s watchful presence. Brisbane’s Story Bridge has been the
site of at least two suicides since we’ve moved here, one in which a young boy
was thrown first and then the father followed him the 70m (210 feet) to hard
ground below.
Unfortunately suicide causes a variety of reactions from people
seemingly across the spectrum of emotion.
Some sympathetic and full of regret and others of contempt and derision,
but all strong and valid. I don’t
know what the answer is. Clearly
it’s not manning Donald Ritchies at every door, although that might be
nice.
The reality is that everyone has their own thing going on and you can never really tell where someone's at. Can you intervene? Is there a chance? Some hope? Sure, of course. But always? I don't know. In fact I don't really know much about suicide.
What I do know about suicide is that in the evening of 26
February my father took his own life and I was never there to talk him
down. I know that his siblings
feel remorse and sadness and that my mother, his wife who was nearby, will
never be the same. But this isn’t enough is it?
I’m not sure if it’s fair that I discuss this here in this Blog,
but I guess with the dozen or so readers it’s not like I’ve got the same
audience as Oprah and I probably am entitled to express myself in some way over
it.
Those of you who know me well, can imagine, or maybe not, the
stream of inappropriate humor that I subjected my wife to, but the fact remains
that this is an act of my father that prematurely ended a number of things and
extinguished all future possibilities.
Chances of redemption, of reconciliation or even just fulfilling his
wedding vows to my mother are all swept away, echoing like a gunshot across a
backwater along Tampa Bay.
I’ll save you the tasteless jokes, but tell you that as I’m here
now, in Tampa, dealing with the mess that has been left to my mother, my
siblings, and extended family, that feelings of contempt seem to be about
right.
Could Donald Ritchie have coaxed the gun out of my father’s
hand? The track record would put
good odds on it (although for the penchant for gaming by the Aussies, hasn’t
seemed to reach this far yet) or at least better than any odds that I might
have sported. But would it have
been enough? Maybe today, but what
about tomorrow?
It seemed to me that something that wasn’t explored by Weiner’s
book, or even really the happiness studies, is what the expectation is that
people hold. Regardless of where
you’re living, it’s you that lives there.
If you’re not happy in Calgary, New York, Tampa, Paris, London, Canmore,
Sydney or Brisbane moving isn’t going to change that.
I hope that if you’re reading this, you’re happy or willing to do
something about it.
[2] Bull sharks are smaller but more aggressive than great white
sharks: http://australianmuseum.net.au/Bull-Shark-Carcharhinus-leucas-Valenciennes-1839
[3] Ironically, 14 February 1966 marked the introduction of
Australian’s official currency.
Valentine’s Day has always been expensive, but can you imagine having to
convert from cigarettes to cash before the obligatory round of gifts and
dinner?
[4] Foodborne illness in Australia Annual incidence circa 2000 Australian Government Department of
Health and Ageing Document:
foodborne_report.pdf
[6] The suicide rates in Australia account for fewer deaths than heart
disease in Canada. http://fathersforlife.org/health/who_suicide_rates.htm;
http://fathersforlife.org/health/cansuic.htm
