People who have inspired you?

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The improbable but true background to your question, Kraftie:

I was quite pretty girl, although I had little self-awareness of being so, in those teenage years. And a specialist gay hairdresser - his name was Harvey - came to New Zealand for L'Oreal (a big hair product firm) and was looking for models - women whose hair he could do in teaching sessions while he was holding his masterclasses for hairdressers in training here. He saw me and approached me at a place I was at, and asked me if he could use me for that. I was delighted and so he did my hair at the training session.

After the session (I realised he was gay, I always seemed to relate to gay men well from an early age) he said, "I'm going back to Australia next week, but here's my name, address and phone number, and if you ever get there, look me up, I'll show you around". I took his card and carefully stored in away, because he had planted a seed in my mind - what if I ran away to Australia? This encounter with Harvey happened a couple of weeks before I boarded the ship and was on my way.

So when I docked, I asked someone to phone him for me and spoke to him, and he came and picked me up from the ship and took me home. I left his address on the immigration papers at the shipping office in Sydney, because you had to. They wouldn't let you in unless you put down something, and that was all I thought of.

He was a "society" hairdresser and lived with 5 other gay men in a beautiful old two storey wooden mansion on the beautiful north harbour of Sydney. They had plenty of room and took to me and decided I could live with them, and they would support and protect me while I got on my feet. They weren't in relationships with each other, they just lived together, a happy family in their way, they had created their own community, and they all worked - one was a jeweller, another was in fashion, etc, - and they LOVED dressing me up, doing my makeup, hair, adorning me with jewels and taking me to big society events as their little mascot!

However I did not want to live on their charity, and the next morning I got a ferry with them across the harbour to the main side of the city. They all went to work and I wandered up one of the main streets (George St, I think) and into a cafe and asked for a job there. It was owned by an Italian family, - I had never met an Italian before - and they gave me a job on the spot, waiting on tables, and I was so green that when I was first tipped by a customer I gave it to them! They laughed and said, "You keep it, it's for you!". They employed me, fed me, and took me to their hearts, gave me days off when I didn't deserve them, smiled and hugged me. I had never met a family like that before, it was all astonishing. And so I got on my feet, financially, I made friends, I had safety, support, protection and love - having met such wonderful people, and the healing began.

Most fortuitous, B19!

It seems as if you had intellectual inclinations before your migration, quite possibly owing to that mentor-figure you met when you were eight years old. This reminds me, a bit, of the movie "Sounder," which took place in the American South during the 1930s.

In those days, one had to rely on libraries or Lyceum-type societies for intellectual stimulation. Quite possibly, as well, you soaked in the conversations of the cafe patrons.

Perhaps, the earnings from the cafe, plus work-study type things assisted you in paying for your Uni education.

Another wonderful post by B19, thanks again.

And Kraftie.. the movie "Sounder" is actually on TV right now. I'm not watching it, but I did read the info description on it an hour ago.

It happened differently from that. At one of the big flash society events my gay benefactors took me to, I was introduced to a straight man, an architect. He asked me out, and I went out with him for a while. He designed and built properties for clients and for direct sale, and he let me live in recently finished ones for free, just to look after them and keep them clean and tidy, and be there if necessary to show prospective buyers around, and I was still able to work at a normal job, lowly as it was. He became fond of me as the months passed and asked me to marry him. I told him that I couldn't, because there were mysteries in my life that I had to go back to New Zealand one day to try and solve: who was I really? what had happened to my parents? how had I ended up in the orphanage? what was my real name? how I had got into such a terrible physical state in the orphanage? why had I been placed in the care of an obviously mentally ill woman? So I told him that I was sorry, but my plan was to save as much money as I needed, go back to New Zealand, and try to find the answers, so that I could come to terms with all that had happened to me during my childhood. We continued to go out together for a few months, and then he asked me again - what if you went back and solved these mysteries, would you come back and marry me then? And I said that I would think about it. But I knew in my heart that though I was tremendously grateful to him, I would never love him as a husband should be loved, with my heart and soul. So (I thought) we left the conversation at that.

One day he said, "I have a present for you. I want to give it to you tonight, can I come around?"

He had seen me admire a very expensive dress in a flash shop that was way outside of my means, and as I unwrapped the present he brought, there was the dress...! !! !! ! Wonder of wonders! He said, take it out, and put it on. So I carefully unwrapped it and an envelope fell out of the folds with my name on it. He said "Open the envelope later".

So after he had gone I opened it. It was a first class air ticket from Australia to New Zealand, with a letter, money to help me as well, saying to accept it without any obligations, to go back and continue my quest for truth, and even if we never met again, he was still glad we did meet and had the relationship we had had.

Did you ever meet the man again?

Were you able to find out what you wanted to find out in New Zealand?

Your story, in illustrative form, informs me that it's a pity that we live in a world which devalues, and is skeptical of, such whimsy as you describe. Our work, at least to some extend, should be focused on returning to that bygone era when kids were allowed to explore their environment without fear.

Last edited by kraftiekortie on 06 Feb 2015, 10:10 pm, edited 1 time in total.

We corresponded for a time, then I fell in love with someone else. He married someone else, and we never met again. However, all of these people live on in my heart and memories, as heroes, who saved me in every way a human being can be saved (to steal a line from the film "Titanic")

People who have inspired me are:

Rand Paul - US Senator
http://paul.senate.gov/

Bill Whittle - Conservative Pundit
http://www.billwhittle.com/

Scott Ott - Conservative Pundit
http://scrappleface.com/

Steven Green - Conservative Pundit
http://vodkapundit.com/

US President Warren G. Harding

President Calvin Coolidge
Remember, keep cool with Coolidge!

Most(ALL) of my inspirations are political.

The New Zealand novelist Janet Frame (now sadly deceased), especially for her three volumes of autobiography,
"To the Is-Land"
"An Angel At My Table" and
"The Envoy from Mirror City".

Her life broadly told in a film "An Angel at My Table" made by NZ film-maker Jane Campion. Frame was very very likely on the spectrum, misdiagnosed with schizophrenia, incarcerated in terrible mental asylum for years, almost given a lobotomy but rescued just in time by a writer (Charles Brasch) who had read her poems. She went on to be nominated for a Nobel Prize for literature in later life.

Also the New Zealand novelist Ruth Park (also now sadly deceased), especially for her two volumes of autobiography, "A Fence Around the Cuckoo" (particularly this volume, in which she describes her escape from New Zealand to Australia, at a time when people did not do this kind of thing), years before me; and
"Fishing in the Styx" (Much darker, after the death of her beloved husband).

Both women inspired the Hell out of me.

These memories of my voyage to Australia have taken a lot of emotional energy today, as I re-experienced those times, feelings and events very powerfully as I related them. Now I need to rest, though before I can, there is another experience I had in Australia, which was significant its own way and perhaps by telling it, I can find some relaxation while paying dues to another who inspired me.

One afternoon, one of my gay hosts said, "I'm going to visit an old friend of mine, do you want to come?" So I went along, and met a much older man named Jack. Jack lived alone, with books; he didn't drink alcohol, and we talked about literature. He wasn't married, and I don't think he worked. There was an intense aloneness about him, yet he was one of the most erudite people I had ever encountered. He was certainly not typical of the hard drinking Aussie blokes of the era; there was something very different about him. He was a lovely host though, polite, attentive, a good listener, so well read that I could have listened to him for days. After a couple of hours, we left.

My friend asked me what I thought of him, and I said that he was wonderful, but how was it that he was so alone, so different? Then answer was shocking: "He was a in a Japanese prisoner of war camp; he prefers to live quietly alone now. I visit him sometimes, and he wanted to meet you". I knew something of what those captives had gone through, and how terrible their experience had been. Unimaginably so. I had never imagined I would be entertained by one of the survivors, and it was a very humbling feeling, suddenly reducing my troubles to the size of an ant beside an elephant...

Looking back on that year in Australia, I now know that every single one of the special people I have mentioned here was a survivor in one way or another - they had one thing in common, to different degrees: suffering. Whether from exclusion, abandonment, torture, oppression or displacement. I don't know if the rich people I met had suffered - probably some had, some hadn't; they all made me feel like a very welcome guest. Taking that time and experience as a whole, Australia inspired me.

He convinced me to perform a mind transplant.
It was a huge success.

Well, probably several people have inspired me----but, these are the ones who come to mind, just now.....

Cher - TV was my escape, when growing-up, and I remember seeing Cher on the Ed Sullivan show, and thinking: "Look at her----she's so far out there on a limb, all by herself----if SHE can make it, maybe I can" (I was a kid, and so very different from anyone I had ever met, and feeling all alone in the world----like all Apsies).

Teacher - Who, even though she said: "She has sparks of intelligence", and I thought she was yet another stupid teacher that didn't get that I only had "sparks", because I hadn't been challenged, was the first stranger to take me under her wing, and encourage me to "keep going".

Teacher - In Junior High School, there was a teacher (one of the most beautiful black women I've ever seen, in my life) who used to stand outside her classroom, and say "Hi!" to everyone coming into school, every morning----or, just that she smiled, the whole time. I was your typical insecure kid, and she made me think: "She is so cool----I wanna be like her"----and, that was the beginning of my coming out of my shell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was such a wonderful story, B19----thankyou, so much, for sharing. One of things that made it so wonderful, is your being so grateful----even, to THIS day!! I feel like we humans forget to be thankful, too often, and that was refreshing, to see----and, another reason why this thread is actually "important"; because, it's good for us to reflect on how we all got to "here".

Thank you. Sometimes there are moments when an online forum such as this is even better than "face to face" (particularly given the kind of people we are). I am so glad I asked you for more information - it's truely a wonderful story you have to tell, but in many ways made even better by the opportunity to pause, reflect and put it into writing.
This is an inspiration.

People who inspire me are those who surpass adversity to do good and positive things for others in society.
A few that come to mind who are well known are Alan Turing, Mother Teresa, Ghandi.
But there are many others who are not well known, who make a great impact on those around them.

Youtube videos that inspire me the most:

Nasir "Nas" Jones - Rapper. Although Ice Cube may be my avatar I've always loved Nas's music. He always seems to be able to make such intelligent, detailed, and great observations about the world. Not to mention he's quite introverted and socially uncomfortable as well. He has some autistic traits (although I have absolutely no idea to his neurology), which gives me a good sense of inspiration. He's definitely not like the narcissistic, douchebag, and frankly terrible rappers of the modern day.

As I have said previously on this thread, a whole country inspired me.. Australia! In the days since I wrote that, many memories of my subsequent visits there have vividly replayed themselves in my mind, and especially the astonishing kindnesses from strangers that were so often bestowed on me. This became a theme of my many visits, but none more so than on my visit in 1988 when I arrived in Queensland to stay at a hotel at a famous resort location called Surfers Paradise. It coincided with Austalia's turn to host EXPO, which they chose to put on in Brisbane, which is also in Queensland. However this time my reasons for going to Australia on that particular occasion were the saddest: I had to be out of New Zealand because my husband was planning an assisted suicide and he knew that I would be in great danger if I was in the country at the time of this sad event: the sentence for assisted suicide was 14 years' imprisonment, and even though I did not agree with his plan, I did know he was resolute and could not die in peace unless I did as he asked and made sure that I was not in New Zealand at the time of his death. As you will know, if you have followed the history, he was a quadriplegic, and had arranged a delivery of poison in a glass with a straw to be placed before him at the appointed time. I left New Zealand with terrible secrets in my heart, and checked into the best hotel at Surfers Paradise, though in a standard room.

At check in, the receptionist announced that she had a surprise for me. I replied that I had not been expecting any surprises (little did she know) and she smiled, and said: "we are pretty sure you will like this one", and called for a porter. Their surprise (why, I will never know) was to upgrade me to their special penthouse suite, which was extremely palatial, at no extra charge, bedecked with fresh flowers, fruit, luxury of every kind, free Dom Perignon, everything you could ever want, a sunken marble bathing area that almost as big as my house, all of which would have cost a fortune. I spluttered "I can't afford this!" and they said, "you don't have to".

That night the terrible phone call came from New Zealand announcing the death. Even though it was not a surprise, it was still a terrible and lonely moment. I hung up the phone and was just sitting on the bed in a dazed state when the switchboard operator rang through and said "we are not charging for your international calls, so make any that you want, and room service is also free of charge. We are sorry that we listened to your last incoming call to make sure the connection was working properly; please allow us to provide whatever you require".

I asked them to provide an escort to their private piano bar for guests and that I would like to drink some brandy, listen to some music from the piano player there, and be escorted back to the suite later on. They did this, and left me in peace afterwards, as I also requested.

A few days later, a frequent guest at the hotel who often called in happened to meet me in the cocktail bar and learning something of my circurmstances, kindly offered me the loan of very new Mercedes sports car for the rest of my stay, so that I could drive myself around if I chose.

I drove it to Brisbane for the closing ceremony of EXPO, which I knew would be magnificent, as Australia does this kind of thing very well, they know how to put on a show...

The very end was an ultra- magnificent fireworks display to the orchestral accompaniement of this wonderful and so famous song:

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
There's a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true

Someday I'll wish upon a star
Wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where trouble melts like lemon drops
High above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly
Birds fly, over the rainbow
Oh why, oh why can't I?

This song has ultra-special inspirational meaning for me, it symbolises my early flight to Australia in 1966, it gave me hope at the worst of times in my life, and it gave me hope that night in 1988 too.

It is one of the great theme songs for me and always inspires me, every time I hear it.