Fotos & Speech

"Good afternoon, everyone—and thank you so much for being here.

... turning 80 is no small thing. It’s a milestone I’m genuinely grateful to have reached—and even more grateful to be able to share a story with you - because, individually, you are part of it- part of my life story.

First things first: a huge thank you to Jen and Greg for opening their home.
But I do have one small request—after this speech, could someone turn off the slide show and put on the State of Origin.
Some debutant will be running onto the field full of pride that he is representing his state for the first time.
It doesn't matter what sport. One's next 80 minutes resonates with life’s story.

Training to get there
the required teamwork to achieve that level
moral strength to play hard but fair
grit and determination
knowing that you might get knocked down - again and again
perhaps dropping the ball
perhaps scoring a try
elation; disappointment.

I’d like to kick off with my story —back in 1965. I was Daniel’s age then. That year, I pulled on a State jersey representing the ACT in rugby union. Yes, Syd—rugby: the gentleman’s version of thuggery.

It was a shock selection—as such, the Canberra Times even ran the headline: “Malone in Team to Defend Cup.” I seemed to recall the selectors were calling it “a gamble.” Cheers for the vote of confidence. (show foto of newspaper article)
A few weeks later, my name was back in the paper—on the back page, but the action photo seemed to vindicate my selection “Up there Gazally”(show foto of newspaper article)
On both newspapers, the chaos in Vietnam dominated the front page. (show both front pages of the newspaper articles)
Those days, young men this age avoided reading the front page - they were all up for the high jump - the conscription ballot - which meant call up for that war.
Do you all remember the song “I was only 19” ( pause to remember the sad refrain - "...the day mankind stepped on the moon Frankie kicked a landmine")

That year, I joined the Department of Foreign Affairs as a cryptographer.
Maybe the media exposure helped land the gig—who knows!

A year later, I was tapped on the shoulder to join the intelligence community.
Now Dylan—before you get any ideas—it wasn’t quite James Bond. No martinis, no Aston Martin. And absolutely no bragging rights with the ladies.

In 1967, I was sent to Vietnam as a non-combatant. That status changed swiftly with the Tet Offensive in early ’68.
Suddenly, even desk jobs needed rifles. I became the caretaker of the Embassy’s armoury—show foto

After Vietnam, life took a more peaceful turn. I became a diplomat, enjoying postings in Belgium, Denmark, France and Indonesia.
"Yes, Dylan—a real Fiat 124 Sport and a red diplomatic passport in Paris did attract les mademoiselles".

Of course, my carefree bachelor lifestyle came to an end when Carmel—and later Emma born 1979 —joined me in Bangkok.

One of my favourite stories from that time involves passports.
Because I was still liable for National Service, I had to get permission to leave Australia—twice:
—Once to go to Vietnam - because I did not go there as a soldier.
—And once to go to Brussels, after 18 months at war.

Both times, the government kindly reminded me that if I came back, I still would be eligible for national service. Very helpful.

In the 1980s, I served as Official Secretary to the Cocos (Keeling) Islands—a role that helped fully integrate the islands with Australia.

After leaving the public service,I worked in international education, in-bound tourism, and eventually Management Rights.
Carmel and I also opened our home to international students—Emma essentially ended up with a house full of adopted sisters.
I like to think this gave her an edge in life—just as rugby did for me.
Just recently, Emma was admitted to the Bar of the Queensland Supreme Court. We are incredibly proud.

Since retiring in 2012, I have time to reflect—and what strikes me most is how grateful I am for the opportunities presented and even more so, to acknowledge the people who “walked beside me”:

To Emma and Paul—thanks you for your love, and for our brilliant grandsons, Dylan and Daniel
To one of the boys—your father once said to me “you were the smartest kid he’d ever met”. And the other? - a genius who reminds me of me (joke). So your time will come, you will make it.
To my amazing siblings—Maureen, John, Babe, Sam, Greg, Sue, and Jen—I thank each for your humour, strength, and steadfast support
To friends, neighbours, and extended family—thank you for walking the path with me
And to, Carmel—”my partner of five decades—you are the heart of my story.
You’ve made every chapter richer. You know I love you”.

(Joke Relief - whew! I made it without crying)

In the end, everyone has a story (point to a few in the group you_and_ you and certainly you).
Again, mine is one of deep gratitude—for the opportunities, the adventures, and most of all, the people.

When we go to the next life, we take no possessions with us—just our story.
In some Asian traditions, that’s your Tao—your path.
If it's filled with meaning, love, compassion, humour, and the occasional sidestep… then, boyo,(make the sound with finger and mouth) “pop!” Nirvana you have made it. Thank you for being part of my story.

(And if you're curious about any of this, you can find The Tao of the Tiger online—just take the “info@” out of my email address and it’ll pop up.)

Now—could someone please pass the TV remote? ‘Let’s bring on the footy!