It's weird how perfectly ordered the universe carves out to be. I always wanted to share my writing but when dad passed away, I knew I had to tell his story. Trying to be as present as possible within the moment, I think about videos I just opened on Facebook through a link someone sent me in messenger app, of dad performing with one of his bands called 'Spike City'. There he was up there, with his big gut under his flanno shirt, wearing steel caps stained in concrete, his hair slightly grown out and other than the fact he looked big and rough before you looked at his face and saw the softness, he didn't have too many distinguishing features wearing just work pants, a flanno and concrete stained boots.
He didn't move around too much; he didn't need too, there was not a single fuck given. He grooved to the band and when he started singing, he gave it his everything yelling as loud and passionately as he could into the mic, gesturing with his hands expressively, putting emphasis on every emotion that rolled from his body. There was something very Aussie but heavy in his expression. The fact he got up on stage wearing his work boots covered in concrete, running off only weed, nicotine and caffeine, I could only think what an inspiration. Every time he sang, it felt like the music roared out after him. It was like he was orchestrating the band behind him. His presence demanded attention, and dad was very much in his element, as he emanated his charismatic character, symbolising strength and a leader, and you can see the hints of pride of his nationality, his brutish easy-going nature like a glow of Aussie culture that beamed from his mannerism. He's just simply so entertaining to watch and you think This is Rollo. I can't stop thinking how much I love him. I think to myself, this is what you would call a legend in its flesh and motion, someone creating that ripple of hope. You realise why life is worth living and why every moment could be important because it's someone like this who gives you reason.
I remember the brief amount of time he was running around when I was growing up, making shirts or playing shows with Spike City. I recall faintly a gig at Chardon's corner in Annerley, the venue called the Back Room. It sounds how it would probably look, a huge venue that feels like it's at the back of a hotel, out of the way of the pokies and bottle shop, located up some stairs, above a car park and the BWS. It used to have a bunch of pool tables if I remember correctly, and it was a decent amount of floor space which led up to a decent sized stage, big enough to separate it with a barricade. It could probably fit about 10 people on the stage which was great for Blowhard because there was many a time when not even all the members could stand on the stage while they were still out playing local gigs after 30 years of commitment to this band- I might also add, after their full-time day jobs. I remember being so young and shy and not really having a clue what was going on, but I know I loved being there and I remember I knew it was cool to see another spin off version of Blowhard playing. I think I even remember when dad gave me one of the random Spike City shirts he had done up (having always gotten stacks of screen-printed shirts growing up, from bands honestly, I had no clue about but loved how dad never failed to give a couple of the shirts to his kids).
So, it was wild in this moment to see a video of dad singing on stage with this band during this time, and trying to remember how old I was, what I was doing at home when he left that very night to play this show. After his death which is usually when people realise how much a person was doing and what it all meant at the time- not that it wasn't already obvious about dad- but it became even more largely obvious how impactful any of his spin off bands were. It would've been another chapter in the journey of our King of Punk in Brisbane. Even when locally well-known Blowhard wasn't performing, he continued in other musical projects. It was another example how many he influenced, and what continued to be the glue for a community of people. So, now old enough to look back at this video combined with everything I knew at the time I'm still trying to wrap my head around how he was one of the lucky people because he still maintained doing what he loved, while working a full-time council job. It was just something else, something fuckin punk. He knew something we didn't, or maybe he was just adapted to a certain level of gain in exchange for pain, that none of the entitled Gen-Z, millennial or whatever other label they've come up for younger generations, so it was normal for him to think he had to keep going the way he did.
All I know is that if I was older, I would've told him to slow the fuck down and ordered a doctor's evaluation to finally get that ADHD diagnosed and have him ordered to take a couple weeks holiday out of his year worth of sick leave accumulated from never taking a day off in his job. It's great and all being functional attention deficit and if you're able to manage this condition, but sometimes when you have no time to look after even yourself anymore, it draws a line between being really unhealthy (he passed away from a blood clot in the arteries to his heart, the size of a golf ball). So, looking back on this video now it's like a snapshot of the past, being able to see my dad keeping up with his passion amidst while he was working so hard. I wonder how he was able to so quietly hold the weight of the world on his shoulders on top of having heart disease for the period it was developing unaware. I know one reason; he worked hard because he wanted a good life for his family. With the pain we all felt losing him, it goes to show, no matter what you can't protect your family from feeling pain. Life has many painful lessons, and no amount of money or suffocating will save someone from painful truths, because simply, things like this happen. One day when you least expect it, you could drop dead from a heart attack.
So, I sit here pondering, what meaning we can take out of this, how we can gain closure out of such a huge loss. If anything, it at least helps to understand one thing, and that was how hard he was working and I know he achieved everything he wanted too. I know it's hard for some people to hear, but maybe there are circumstances in life it's your responsibility to get selfish, to look after you and only yourself. It's your responsibility and yours alone for your wellbeing which if you think it's selfish, I promise people will only be more greatful you're alive in the end, even if they don't know it.