The Sexless, Surf Life Saving and Stickybeaks

At the top of the morning news from the Sydney Morning Herald for Friday is a photograph and a story of the first person to be declared neither man nor woman by the New South Wales government. And the face on the front page of the NZ Herald is a 71-year-old man who is still competing in surf life saving competitions. He’s done it for 50 years.

Somehow, seeing these two folks in the today/tomorrow news from Down Under starts my day in this hemisphere off just right. Okay, so it’s a bit skewed, but by Crikey, it’s pretty darned interesting and I embrace the two people profiled for their individuality and their courage in pursuing “the road not taken.”

Even as I continue to struggle with reading today’s Friday news from the media Down Under when it’s only Thursday morning where I sit, I’m training my psyche for their upside down view of life. By the time I arrive there next Wednesday (having left here on Monday and crossed the International Date Line somewhere over the Pacific), I should be ready. Or maybe I should be ordering some 3-D glasses for this trip.  Much of Avatar was created in NZ, after all.

The Sydney story is headlined “Sexless in the City.” Clever, those Aussies. It’s the amazing tale of a person born in Scotland who moved to Australia. In registering with the government as a neuter, this person was granted status as “sex not specified.” Doctors’ certificates certifying both physical and psychological androgyny were provided to back up this bold new gender designation and the government accepted the status.  I can only imagine the furor that would create in this country.

This brave person, fighting for an identity not accepted by any official or corporate entity before, is now, the newspaper reports, going on to change gender status in business interactions. Apparently, though the change challenged the computer mavens at a bank, they found a way to make an additional classification in their records. Even a Catholic ethicist weighed in positively, suggesting birth certificates should acknowledge androgyny.

The 71-year-old surf life saving competitor, Dan Harris, is someone I’d like to meet, I think. The photograph of him in his two-toned blue and white swimming cap sitting atop his somewhat doughy, but hearty head, is adorable. He’s reported to continue his competitive pursuit, in part, because he’s training young people in these important life-saving skills. He’s been honored with a Queens Service Medal for his contributions. Not only have his children and grandchildren followed him into the ocean morning and evening six days a week to train, but he “sweeps” for youth crews. In the context of the story, this seems to mean he steers the boat and, I suspect, coaches.

My curiosity aroused, I did further research and discovered that surf life saving organizations exist in New Zealand and Australia (as well as other countries, including the United States) as both sport and community service. There are 72 clubs in New Zealand alone. They do, in fact, train and serve as lifeguards on the beaches. They also compete, apparently quite fiercely, in events. Somehow, despite the fact that California has its own Surf Life Saving Association, this doesn’t look much like Baywatch in the morning paper. No, Mr. Harris would have to be played by Ed Asner, rather than David Hasselhoff.

Hasselhoff, despite that completely weird video that surfaced in recent years, was a nice enough fellow when I met him at a television convention once. On the other hand, I’m not sure that Mr. Harris would come off as nice, so much as vigorous with a brusque manner. Today’s article says that he anxiously awaits the time when his now 2-year-old grandchild can join the family sport in four years when she’s old enough. If I were in trouble in the surf, I’d hope for Mr. Harris to save me rather than Mr. Hasselhoff.

Who could have guessed when I started this long distance journey via Down Under websites, I would meet so many different people with such different perspectives? I didn’t foresee all the inspiration I’ve found, but it’s heightened my anticipation for our journey, now only days away.

And what is the Down Under word of the day? I nominate “stickybeak.” It came from a headline in the Sydney paper “Have a Stickybeak at the Crow-eaters.” The story is not about eating at all, but about changes in the rules of evidence in trials. The article, both lengthy and complex, decries the changes being made and alleges them to be much against the societal grain.

So then, what is a stickybeak? It’s what you might think, someone who is a busybody, what Granny Artope would have called a “nosy parker.” Apparently it is used in a most pejorative way by Australians, but is considered just a bit of teasing in New Zealand. They are, as I’m reminded daily, two distinct countries, each proudly protective of its own heritage and culture. Having enjoyed a fascination from afar for years, I eagerly await landing there as a bit of a stickybeak myself next week.