Showing posts with label Victoria. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Victoria. Show all posts

Sunday, June 19, 2011

MY DAD

My Dad (on the left) at one of the power plants he built - the gentleman on the far right is Kasem Chatikavanij, General Manager of the Electrical Generating Authority of Thailand, later Minister of Industry for Thailand.


My Dad's story is incredible - he started out a country kid from Woodend, Victoria, where my grandfather had a pub. School was finished for Dad at age 15 and his first job was riding a bicycle, doing deliveries for a chemist (that's a drugstore here in the States). This was in the depths of the Great Depression, life was hard, and opportunities were few and far between. During World War II Dad got his break - an apprenticeship as a machinist in the shipyards in Williamstown, west of Melbourne.

My Dad worked hard; as hard as anyone has ever worked in their life. He went to night school and earned a tech school diploma as a machinist - riding the trams late at night after a hard day in the shipyard, cracking the books and studying hard. I've seen the books he studied; thermodynamics, principles of steam power generation - what they called a machinist in 1940s Australia is really what we call a mechanical engineer today, and somewhere along the way Dad parlayed that tech school certificate into just that.

There was a greater sacrifice; my Dad is an artist. He studied drawing and painting. There were always books around our house dedicated to art; the incredible works of Michelangelo and Da Vinci; the bright vivid colors of the Impressionists, Van Gogh and Gauguin. But when he was young, the life of a starving artist simply wasn't a realistic course of action for a member of the working class with a wife & kids. And so he nugged it out in the machine shops, turning and shaping metal on lathes and drill presses.

Opportunity presented itself in North America and Dad made his move, securing a job in the design office of a project in Seattle, Washington. Mum & us kids (there were only two of us at that time) stayed in Vancouver until Dad could work something with U.S. Immigration and get us across the border.

That was the start of my Dad's incredible career as a consulting engineer; he built industrial sites in all over Asia and here in the United States. A urea processing plant in Sumatra, Indonesia; three huge electrical power plants big enough to power the cities - one in Bangladesh and two in Thailand - a city water supply facility in Turkey, and several projects here in the United States. Nothing ever held my Dad back - he could do anything.

And so my brothers and I grew up overseas and lived the amazing ex-pat lifestyle; an education no school can provide. I still remember when I was six, in Indonesia - my dad built a classic, clinker-hulled dinghy with a mast and lateen-rigged sail and a 1.5 horsepower Seagull outboard. The sail was hand sewn from old rice sacks and the spars were bamboo. I remember Dad taking me up the river, and I remember the banks of that river lined with crocodiles basking in the sun. We stopped and visited a native village; bamboo longhouses up on stilts. It was a scene right out of a Conrad novel (even though I didn't know it at the time). By the time I was a teenager I'd had adventures most kids cannot even imagine.

Of course we had no idea whatsoever how hard life really is, no concept of how hard Dad worked each and every day of his life. Dad's greatest frustration was probably trying to infuse the work ethic into us. There were work projects and chores, but nothing like what he went through as a kid; so one summer vacation my Dad arranged for my older brother and I to work in a factory in Sydney (it was winter down there) - that was an eye-opener for an expat kid from Southeast Asia, let me tell you.

Dad told us stories of his life; trying to make it as a kid in the shipyards, and somewhere along the way some of it stuck. He taught us that for anything you want in this Life you have to work hard, that hard work is it's own reward, and if a job of work is worth doing then it's worth doing right.

He taught us to always be courteous, to speak clearly and correctly, to always say "Sir," and to always say "please" and "thank you". Despite his own 'School of Hard Knocks' background - or more likely, because of it - my Dad is an optimist; he taught me that as hard as this World is, it isn't always 'Dog eat Dog', it's more like 'Friend Help Friend', and that if you worked hard and played it straight and true, somewhere down the line somebody would be willing to lend a hand when you needed it.

Dad taught me valuable skills; how to work with tools, caring for and sharpening blades, small engine maintenance and repair. To this day I can sharpen any blade - axes, lawnmower blades, machetes; all my military knives are razor sharp. Dad taught me drawing; how human and animal figures can be developed from cubes, cylinders and cones; perspective, texture, shadow and form. What my Dad taught in maths and technical drawing - together with my own humble credentials as a military engineer - has led directly to my present career in industrial security.

Everything I've got in this Life I owe directly to my father's influence. He taught me that "God loves a tryer" - no truer words - that if I worked hard and tried, I might fail and fall flat on my face - and I have a couple times - but that if I picked myself up each and every time and kept on trying, in the end I'd always make it. My father's words got me through my darkest hours, the hardest times in Special Forces, and they inspire me to this day.

My Dad is a success story in Life, greater than most. He gave us kids the best educations, we wanted for nothing, and he honored my mother - a saint - who passed away eleven years ago this coming September. In retirement Dad returned to his first love, art. He took up oils and won several medals and blue ribbons for his works, and achieved significant success in selling them. Of course, he accomplished this with the help and support of his second wife, my step-mother Ruth, who is also a saint.

Dad is generous to a T; he has graciously helped every member of our family. It is impossible for me to thank my Dad enough for all he's done - the only way I know how is to live my life as best as I can, and to dedicate my achievements to him. If could ever achieve ten percent in my lifetime of what my Dad did in his - given his humble beginnings - I'd probably be Prime Minister of Australia by now.



Happy Father's Day, Dad!

We all love you!

from Sean, TigerLily & the kids . . . 
.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

BATTLE ROYAL SUPERBOWL XLV



Today is SuperBowl Sunday in America, of course, and today's lineup is HUGE. The Pittsburgh Steelers and the Green Bay Packers are two of the oldest franchises in the NFL, representing the heart & soul of the American industrial heartland. To our Commonwealth brethren I cannot emphasize enough just how significant today's Clash of Heroes will be:

Pittsburgh vs. Green Bay is like Manchester United vs. Birmingham. It's like my mighty, mighty Collingwood Magpies going up against the Carlton Blues . . .




. . . and watching it on the 19-inch black & white telly at my grandfather's place in St. Kilda. It's like the Canadiennes vs. the Maple Leafs pl;aying that stick-ball game they do on the ice up there in the Great White Frozen NorthLand. It's Wellington vs. Bonaparte; Patton vs. Rommel; Reagan vs. Carter (No - that's a bad analogy; Carter is a waffling, effete weirdo with serious loyalty issues - the Green Bay Packers are Heroic Warriors of the Ice Cold CheeseLand). In other words, this will be a BATTLE ROYAL of historic proportions.

I'm not a sports writer, I'm a soldier-philosopher, so I'll leave the in-depth analysis to an expert who had done a tremendous job:


TRADITION SET TO TAKE CENTER STAGE AT SUPER BOWL 2011

By James Varney, The Times-Picayune Sunday, February 06, 2011, 6:00 AM

DALLAS — Finally, something other than cold will grip Texas today, as Super Bowl 2011 features two of the most tradition-rich teams in football.

The Green Bay Packers hold a dozen NFL titles, the most of any franchise, and the half-dozen Super Bowls won by the Pittsburgh Steelers set them above all in that category.



The Steelers are the only NFL team that wears their logo on only one side of their helmets:



Yet the teams embody something about the league and the game that goes beyond their championships. Though both areas have moved beyond their hardscrabble history, they still evoke smokestacks, coal, and beer, a Midwest where the people are as famed for the friendliness as much as their football.

Each franchise earned its fame with grit, muscle and clouds of breath on cold afternoons — with a style that mirrored and pleased their fan base. The Packers will forever be stamped as a team that won on ice-crusted fields, and the Steelers’ glory days featured a rangy defense led by men with seemingly fewer teeth than hockey players.


Read the rest of it HERE


Green Bay Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers, who has the highest postseason passer rating in NFL history, threw for 366 yards, three touchdowns and no interceptions in a methodical dismantling of the NFC's top-seeded Atlanta Falcons in the divisional round of the playoffs. (photo credit David J. Phillip/The Associated Press)


But who do you back when you're a thrice-transplanted Oakland Raiders fan?




Both teams are worthy and well-qualified . . . I like the Packers because of their traditions . . . but these days I live in Pennsylvania, and today the Heroic Pittsburgh Steelers stand to win an unprecedented SEVENTH Superbowl TITLE . . .




. . . today's STORMBRINGER BIRD reflects this sentiment . . .


. . . the Steelers are the team of America's greatest living philosopher Rush Limbaugh, they are the team of Hank Williams Jr, and most important of all, they are the team of TigerLily - a.k.a. MRS. STORMBRINGER so that pretty much decides the issue . . .


I'm not a sports writer although sometimes I wish I was - writing about football for a living would be FUN! Hell - PLAYING football for a living would be fun! Come to think of it, back when I got off the banana boat - if I only knew then what I know now; I did not know then that the NFL had a walk-on policy - if I had known that I would have had a GREAT career as a placekicker for the Oakland Raiders because everyone knows that NOBODY can kick a football farther than an Australian - ESPECIALLY if he's from Victoria.


Oh, and hey there Cheeseheads - there's something for you, too, over on the BABES OF STORMBRINGER side.



"Ave, Caesar, morituri te salutant"
"Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die salute you"


It's going to be just like this - the field is going to be LITTERED with bodies.



. . . SEAN LINNANE SENDS


.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

VICTORIA, TEXAS

.

Here's a copy of the actual newspaper article . . .


Friday, March 12, 2010

A FELLOW MELBURNIAN

Hi Sean,
I enjoy your blog, and check it out daily. How did you come to join the US military?





So, a Melbourne boy, huh? And a 'Pies supporter too. Definitely authentic, as nobody would make that up.








Blood is thicker than water.






I too am from Melbourne, variously Box Hill, Mount Martha and South Yarra. But happily in Perth these last 20 years. Yet still a Hawthorn supporter these past 40-odd years.










Anyway, my question is this: Why does the US military designate a 2LT with gold bars, but a 1LT with silver?










Second Lieutenant, United States













First Lieutenant, United States




Likewise, a major with the gold device, but a Lt Col with silver? You'd expect the reverse, eh?

Just curious.


Regards,

Greg


*********************************************************************


Hello Greg,

Good to hear from a fellow Melbournian. Tell me was I exaggerating about the penguins? I swear I saw them swimming in the bay that one time.


The Natives are Friendly


I joined the US Army because I wanted to be a soldier, ever since I was a kid. I considered joining the Australian Army, but at the time they weren't going anywhere except the outback; I love Australia, but I wanted to see the world. I SERIOUSLY thought about joining the French Foreign Legion - all I had to do was make it to Tahiti, but the US military seemed like such a better deal.


Sean Linnane, STORMBRINGER


It turned out to be a good plan - I saw the world, I have enough adventures to fill ten lifetimes, and I retired from active duty into the most incredible professional network in the world.

As far as the bars and the oak leaves go - here's what I learned:

The present system of US officers’ grade insignia began on 18 June 1780 when it was prescribed that Major Generals would wear two stars and Brigadier Generals one star on each epaulette. In 1832, the Colonel’s eagle was initiated and in 1836, leaves were adopted for Lieutenant Colonels and Majors, while Captains received two bars and one bar was prescribed for First Lieutenant. Second Lieutenants did not receive the gold bar until December 1917.










Major, United States


In General Regulations of 1835, the leaf was first introduced to designate Lieutenant Colonels and Majors. It stated that it was embroidered on the shoulder straps of the frock coat, one at each end, each leaf extending 7/8 of an inch from the end of the border of the strap. The color for Lieutenant Colonels was to be the same color as the border. At this time, Infantry Lieutenant Colonels had a silver border and other Lieutenant Colonels had a gold border. For Majors, it was stipulated that the insignia would be the same design as the Lieutenant Colonel except the leaves would be silver where the border was gold and the insignia would be gold if the border was silver. This policy resulted in the use of both gold and silver leaves for both ranks.










Lieutenant Colonel, United States


In 1851, the border of all shoulder straps was changed to gold. As a result, the leaf for Lieutenant Colonel became silver and for Major it was gold for wear on the shoulder straps.

I don't know about the reasoning behind the silver insignia for First Lieutenants, and gold for Second Lieutenants.

You'd expect the reverse - what can I say? That's officers for you.

Thanks for reading STORMBRINGER, and thank you for your support.

- Sean L.


*********************************************************************


Onya Sean! And you're right, that's officers for you.

Happy landings,

Greg



Tuesday, December 15, 2009

MELBOURNE vs SYDNEY


A question came in via the Email Machine:

Hi Sean,

A Guy referenced you as a source on Oz / Melbourne. I can't find your blogging on either. Were you born there? Did you choose to retire elsewhere due to how cut off Oz is?

We are planning to immigrate if Victoria will have us. We chose Melb as It is has a European flavor, good climate and liberal cosmopolitan attitude as well as being one of the most livable cities. I appreciate your help. So I'm all ears...

Sincerely,

J___




My Reply:


Sydney versus Melbourne? I lived in both cities for many years. They are both terrific cities, for several different reasons.


Sydney's got the Harbour Bridge:


Yes it really DOES look like that at night.


Me? If I was fabulously rich, I'd live in Sydney. I'm not, so I would probably choose Melbourne, I like it's style. On the other hand, if I was fabulously rich, I could live in BOTH. As far as I'm concerned they BOTH have European flavor, good climate and as you say, a "liberal" cosmopolitan attitude - although be advised: Down Under, the Liberal Party is synomynous with the Conservative Party in Canada, or the < gasp! > Republican Party here in the Good Old U. S. of A. Sydney is like a big North American metropolis (a lot cleaner though) and Melbourne is somehow more civilized, sophisticated in it's own way.



Melbourne has a LOT going for it:



The Great Australian Pub Culture is celebrated to its highest form in Melbourne.


Chloe, seen at the Young and Jackson Hotel, Flinders Street, Melbourne.




Australian Rules Football is a product of Victoria.















The Mighty 'Pies.











Sydney on the other hand has the amazing harbour, and some of the greatest scenery in the world, especially the North shore.




Here is the link to my posts on Melbourne:

THE ORIGINS OF STORMBRINGER


The follow-on story, about the bird infestation in the place I was born:

PENGUINS



















Funniest thing happened to me about the last six months I was in the Army; I was babysitting the fresh meat just coming out of jump school, coming into our program. This one new guy, he was Australian. I had to say something, so I asked him where he came from?

"Australia, Sergeant."

"Yeah, like no sh*t Sherlock, I meant what part?"

"Sydney, Sergeant?"

"No sh*t? What part?"

By about now he's looking me in the eye. "Uh, Bondi, Sergeant."

"NO SH*T???"

I had to reveal myself then - I used to live in Bondi, went to Bondi Elementary, learned how to surf & swim on Bondi Beach and damn near drowned in the process; I know that place like the back of my hand.



Bondi Beach


You see and do a lot in the course of a military career but that moment floored me. Turned out he'd done a hitch in the Australian Army, in their airborne battalion, then he came over to give Uncle Sam's Lean Mean Green Machine a go. Good on ya, kiddo.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

PENGUINS


Yesterday I mentioned that I once saw a flock of penguins skipping over the tops of the waves in Port Phillip Bay. I was standing on the beach at the end of Victoria Avenue; this is the same street where Mama brought me home right after I was born:



Sure, there are penguins in Australia; Eudyptula minor, or Little Penguins, are found on the coastlines of South Australia, Victoria, Tasmania, New Zealand, and possible sitings in Chile. It is possible for tourists to see them 'parade' across the beach at Phillip Island - an island-like peninsula south of Melbourne:



They are known as 'Fairy Penguins' in Australia because of their tiny size. In New Zealand they are also called Little Blue Penguins, or just Blue Penguins, owing to their slate-blue plumage, and in Māori they are called Kororā.

Fairy Penguins are the smallest species of the penguin family - about 43 cm (16") tall.







They're really just like a pack of blue chickens that swim.






I know what I saw when I saw them swimming out in the bay. What I didn't realize is that the place is positively infested with the little buggers; here is a Fairy Penguin scrambling over the breakwater at St. Kilda, which is right in the middle of greater Melbourne and just down the road a bit from where I was born:

Monday, October 5, 2009

THE ORIGINS OF STORMBRINGER



This Victorian rowhouse "Beaconsfield" is my parent's address on my birth certificate. It's my first home:

The Beaconsfield

This is Victoria Avenue, in the suburb of Albert Park, in Melbourne Australia. My Dad says he purchased/sold Beaconsfield for around the $14,000 mark in the 50's. Current value in the order of $1,500,000 plus. Those overhead electric wires are for the tram.

Melbourne tram.


I am a Victorian. My grandfather was a TRUE Victorian - he was born in 1899, during the reign of Queen Victoria. I guess that makes me a double whammy Victorian.

There are two pubs on Victoria Ave - the Victoria, across the street from my old place, and the Bleakhouse, down by Beaconsfield Parade which runs parallel to the beach. Bleakhouse is a novel by Charles Dickens; an apt name for a windswept piece of sand on Port Phillip Bay. I once stood on that beach and saw a flock of penguins swimming by, I shit you not.


Port Phillip Bay, Victoria, Australia

This is the house I used to live in before I shot over to the States in '81. It's on the same street; Victoria Avenue, about two blocks up from the Beaconsfield.

The Arcadia

Unfortunately it is no longer in the same happy state it was thirty years ago when I lived there, now in very neglected run down state: veranda disintegrating, garden overgrown, woodwork unpainted and weathered, glass around front door broken. This is unusual for this area which is nowadays infested with yuppies paying high prices for rundown inner city homes which they then extensively renovate and extend.





This was before I became a soldier in the best damn Army ever to march across a battlefield, of course.






I actually went back once, had a beer in the old pub, and made the mistake of actually telling some drongo at the bar who I was and what I'd been up to.

Drongo: "You're not Australian."

Me: "Yes I am, actually."

Drongo: "Where are you from, then?"

Me: "Here, this place. I was born at St. Vincent's hospital, my parents lived up the street."

Drongo: "Bullshit."

Me: "I shit you not. I'm from Melbourne and I barrack for Collingwood. Mighty 'Pies."



Drongo: "Well if you're from Melbourne, then who's Chloe?"

Me: "Chloe's the naked lady by the door at the Young & Jackson Hotel, across from Flinders Street Station. Everybody knows that."

Drongo: "I'll be buggered, you ARE Australian!"











Chloe












Of course I am, everybody knows that. I am what I am. I am Victorian.


And now I'm an American, of course.



- S.L.