Changes

Wednesday – our ‘oldies get-together’ coffee morning.

“See you’ve got a nice sunny corner for a change,” said Stevens, pulling up a chair.

“You’re late as usual,” shot back Smith. “No change in that!”

“Talking of change,” chimed in Willliams. Actually we weren’t but forbore to correct him. We’d long ago learnt that it was useless: he’d just bulldozer over any interruption, level any objection we’d make. Better let him have his head, or rather his tongue: a case of no change there!

“Notice they’re widening the main road at last. Long overdue. About time we got some action from this nigh-useless council. That’ll make a real change to traffic flow!”

“Yeah,” said Darkly (“Darkly looked he at the wall/ And darkly at the foe” – hence the nickname). “Yeah, and lose that beautiful row of Jacarandas that’s such a feature in the town. Bloody cars, demanding more and more road space, causing those ugly scars on the landscape, encouraging motorists to think they have the right of way, no matter what.”

“As I was saying,” continued Williams, “that will be another worthwhile change. And as for cars having the right of way, that’s what the roads are for, not for stick-in-the-mud pedestrians; or, for that matter, cyclists!” This said with a glare in my direction, who had arrive, as usual, by bike. I ignored him: there’ll be no change there, Williams!

Johno, the peace-maker, took off on a tangent. “Cars and change—now there’s something for you. I well remember my first car. I bought it third, or was it fourth hand? for the princely sum of eighty dollars; mind you, that was some fifty year ago. A Fiat Millecento. Wonderful little motor with an aluminium head. Pretty well no floor; rusted completely away. In wet weather one had to drape a sheet of plastic over one’s nether regions to avoid having wet pants. Car inspections were pretty cursory in those days, especially in the country. Horrible electrics! One always kept a cigarette pack handy in the glove shelf. As soon as the fuse blew, out came the silver foil from the cigarette pack , a little was torn off, doubled over and shoved into the fuse slot, and off we’d go again. In spite of those little problems, I managed to get from Grafton, where I lived at the time, to Sydney – and back again – every second week-end to see the girl friend. Wonderfully reliable machine ( no Smith, you clot, the car!). Got engaged towards the end of that year and ended up selling (the car, Smith!) again for eighty dollars. Have had several cars since then, all bought new, all more comfortable but, considering the roads I drove the old Millecento over, none as reliable. Guess in spite of all the changes in the auto- industry, some of those old cars might just as well have continued in production.”

“Sheer luck,” growled Darkly. “Most of us couldn’t get rid of our first cars quickly enough! Anyway, those of us living in country towns when we were young usually had sense enough to catch trains. Nothing like those lovely old locos- sheer poetry in motion and power! I lived in Sydney for a couple of years in the late forties and had to catch a red rattler from Berella to Lidcombe to go to school. Some of us would risk the cuts for being late, just to stand on the overhead pedestrian bridge to watch the wonderful 38-01, the Newcastle Flyer, a dragon come roaring under us at 9.02 am precisely, bound for Central. Didn’t matter if we smelt of smoke and coal-dust; didn’t matter if we got the cuts; it was worth it. If we had any sense, we’d still have trains, and Australia would be the better for it.”

“Bull!” snorted Stevens. “Remember the tunnels, the choking smoke, having to wipe coal-dust from the seats before sitting down, the roar and the rattle as you ploughed through the night, the being shaken mercilessly as if in the jaws of some phantom mastiff, the banshee shriek of the whistle wailing at crossings as one tried to doze through the interminable hours of the night? Who wouldn’t want to change all that?”

“Why, Stevens,” I exclaimed, “I didn’t know you had so much poetry in you!”

“Poetry or not it was awful!” came the retort. Whether it was his poetry or his recollection of trains that was awful, I didn’t ask.

“Well, at least you could get a decent meal in the dining car, and on the rare occasion one could afford it, not a bad night in the sleeper – better than driving through the night,” I countered.

Williams was not to be out-manoeuvred. “Change,” he repeated, mantra-like. “Where would we be without the wonderful changes in medical science and communications? Within a hundred years we’ve virtually wiped out birth-deaths, diphtheria and polio – to mention just a few things; organ and heart transplants are commonplace. Just think what another fifty years will achieve for the human race. And communications! My old dad knew what a telephone was – never owned one – loved the radio, lived to see colour television and the beginning of the computer miracle. With the wonders of nano-technology, where to now?” It was unusual to hear Williams being so up-beat, so enthusiastic: he was usually the philosopher/pessimist. Just what was in his coffee this morning?

Smith could not resist a role-reversal and winked at me to hold my tongue. “The French,” he said, “have a rather sober saying that, roughly translated goes: ‘The more things change, the more they stay the same.’ Granted the changes in things technical, what changes have we made in feeding the poor, housing the homeless, lessening crime, bringing peace on earth to men and women of good – or bad – will? What has your hundred years done, Williams, except produce two world wars and many other wars beside; promote ethnic cleansing and horrible dictatorships – the worse for having so much technology to hand; give rise to the disease of ‘angst’ – the so-called disease of the twentieth century - with its increased mental illness and, even in the very technologically advanced societies, increased suicide rates? A tad simplistic, perhaps, but I think I tend to admire the Marxes and the Engels and even the Lenins (though I abominate their fanaticism): they – at least initially – sought to overcome crippling poverty and inequality.”

We waited for Williams to reply, but he remained silent, seemingly lost in thought, either searching for an adequate reply or, by his very silence, admitting the force of Smith’s contention. Pushing back my chair, I rose slowly. “Good morning, gentlemen,” I said, turning from Williams, “I need a change myself just at the moment, but I hope I’ll see you all again next week as usual.”