Despite having numerous physical, psychological and moral ailments, throughout my life on earth, I don’t recall feeling anything other than good health and well being. Maybe it is because I am an eternal optimist. Or maybe I am an eternal optimist because I have never felt anything other than health and well-being.
When you have chronic disabilities, such as me, you have to learn to cope with them, lest they drive you into a depression and / or melancholy and an early grave, by making you wish you had never been born, or life is such hell, that it isn’t worth trying to stay alive, so you languish into downward spiral, and take your life, or let someone or something take it for you.
This is a lazy get-out, and entire communities get to feel this way, given half a chance. And the question that arises then, is, am I my brother’s keeper? and the easy, mindless answer to that is, no!
But I don’t do mindless. My feeling is that, if I can feel good health and well-being, on a day by day basis, with all the defects, disabilities, disadvantages, deprivations and decay I have, then I don’t feel right not doing anything to help my brother feel the same way despite all his ailments.
I don’t like having depressed and / or melancholic people anywhere near me. They give off vibrations that interrupt and interfere with mine, and the wax holding my feathers starts to melt, and I start falling out of the sky, just like Icarus, son of Daedalus, the Greek geek who tried to make himself fly to the sun on wings of feathers held together by wax.
So, I suffer depression and melancholy if I do not try to help my brother find a way out of his depression and melancholy. I cope with my depression and melancholy by calling on my hope, which, supposedly, springs eternal from my breast, so I try to make hope spring eternally from his breast, as it seems to be dead in him, or, at the least, asleep.
I spent the first 35 of my 50 year professional career raising standards of health, wealth, happiness and security facilities, all around the world, for billions of people, but some stayed depressed and melancholic. What do these people want of me to take their vibration of depression and melancholy away, I thought. So I asked them and kept asking them, and found that they had the same chronic ailments as me, but, unlike me, didn’t thank life, death, nature, fate, fortune, god, the universe, and all that, for their gift of life.
On the contrary, they resented the gift of life and wished they were dead. And because the rest of the world had adopted the negative answer to the question, am I brother’s keeper? they did nothing to drag their wit from the slough of despondency, but left it there for dead, as they were as good as dead.
I don’t know, perhaps there’s a law of the jungle that says, the less mouths needing to be fed, means more for those who are left. Is that what evolution has reduced us to? Self seeking parasites? Cannibals, even? Who feed they depressions and melancholy by eating and thus recycling the depression and melancholia, as they spiral down the black hole into oblivion?
I have a dream, as Martin Luther King, the great humanitarian, said, and mine is to teach every single one of those miserable people how to be happy, even if it takes the rest of my and their lives. I am not going to let them drag me down to their level. I’m going drag them up to mine. I’m telling you people. I have been there, done that, got the Tee-shirt, and it isn’t even a very nice. Tee-shirt It’s horrible. It’s a gazillion times worse than you feel now. And it will be like that until the Apocalyptic Armageddon of Revelations.
Which begs the question, how do you drag these people out of the pit they hate wallowing in, but who do not have the wherewithal to drag themselves out themselves, as they have no purchase, and no route map, or the knowledge and tools, to draw one up themself, to drag themselves clear.
Okay. My first domain as an Esquire of the Royal Division with a duty to have professional regard for Health and Well-Being issues in everything I thought, said and did, was advising the senior local driver / salesman of the Elders and Fyffes regional depot where I worked as a holiday relief day labourer in the summer of 1960.
I deputized as his ‘driver’s mate’ for about 5 weeks after my first week working at the depot in cleaning and general duties to get the hang of the depot administration as his normal driver’s mate was away.
After the second week, I proposed an alternate routing schedule to him, to reduce the toll on him, in the interests of his health and well-being and that of every person his normal route adversely impacted upon. He accepted it, and both he, and the depot manager were pleased that he had, as he was more refreshed by it, and it reduced wear and tear on his lorry as it covered less mileage and it used less transport fuel than before and avoided regular traffic jams and caused less harassment to other road users. It even pleased his shopkeeper customers, as he arrived there less flustered and more cheerful and he infected them with it, making all their customers happier. His customers and their customers began talking to each other and speculating that some kind of miracle had happened in the streets where he drove his lorry that made all people who lived or worked in them or even stepped inside them became instantaneously happy.
So the depot manager asked me to do likewise for all the other driver / salesmen based at the local depot, but I was unable to, for I was summoned to appear to give evidence at a local education authority tribunal about my head injury, and immediately reinstated at the school where I had taken my articled pupillages.
But, it wasn’t the end of the miracle. My next professional domain as an Esquire of the Royal Division with a duty to have due professional regard for Health and Well-Being in everything I thought, said and did, was as a probationary trainee clerk of the Pontypridd Cooperative Wholesale Society.
I had a peripatetic role with them for about six to eight weeks in the summer of 1961 after a year of special education at the Grammar School where I sat my articled pupillages. I did not appreciate that I was a ward of the local education authority and not entitled to make my own decisions about what I did with my time, and I had ‘jumped ship’ to get a probationary traineeship of the Pontypridd Cooperative Wholesale Society, due to my special interest in the transport and distribution of services, produce and goods in and around my home town and region.
I was thus able to witness daily by remote viewing and nightly by out of body experiences how my every thought, word, and deed, reduced the poverty and hunger of my own and other’s families in the town and its immediate region and beyond in many cases, and improved their health and well-being, in sustainable ways, and it made me feel gratified about who I was and what I could do.
And it made me want to do more and more so much that it became compulsive and obsessive. So I had a wonderful six to eight weeks in that role before the local education authority summoned me again, but not this time to give evidence to a tribunal of inquiry.
What they wanted was to sign me up as a direct entry local government trainee of Glamorgan County Council, to obtain grand funding for my retraining after the head injury.
So I attended for interview and was assigned to the County Treasurer in that capacity to help him deal with highways and transportation management, administration, wages and accounts due to my special interests in these fields.
It resulted in an explosion of my knowledge and skills and after a few months I had a holographic map of Glamorgan and all its neighbouring landed and maritime estates, and the land uses they served and models of all the vehicular and pedestrian traffic to, from, and within these estates that I could manipulate in my head, to test design and redesign theories that formed in my mind both spontaneously and instantaneously as well as compulsively and obsessively like Saint Paul’s vision on the Road to Damascus vision.
It was extraordinary and got me so excited one day that I dropped everything I was doing and, despite my having chronic asthma all the way, I ran from a satellite office of the County Treasurer to the office of the County Engineer, Surveyor and Planning Officer, and blurted out to him what was inside my head. You are now ready to come work for me, he said, and made arrangements with the County Treasurer for it
It took a couple or three months to happen, as everything I thought, said, and did, was an official secret, in those days, and had to be cloaked in camouflage. So I had to fill in a form requesting the transfer, attend an interview with over 20 other candidates, and win the transfer fair and square on merit, under competition against those other candidates.
So, anyway, I won the transfer fair and square on the strength of my active knowledge and skills due to my professional training which I had forgotten but revived as soon as a practical test was put in front of me.
I started in the County Engineer, Surveyor, and Planning Officer’s head office in the official capacity as a General Division Draftsman, in February 1962, and was immediately appointed in secret as a Secretarial Draftsman to the South Wales Counties and Monmouthshire chapter of the County Surveyors Society to work up a Development Plan for transfer of the Royal Mint from London to Llantrisant in South Wales.
I had, during my Articled Pupillages, revised a 1930s New Town Development Plan for Llantrisant to take into account everything that happened in the interim, and the chapter of the County Surveyors Society to which I was appointed as Secretarial Draftsman wanted me to work it up into a competitive design bid for the transfer of the Royal Mint.
So I did, and it won the UK Treasury competition for the transfer, but I was so off the planet in amnesias, that I didn’t even know who I was, let alone what I was working on. I then got a transfer to Llantrisant and Llantwit Faerdre Rural District Council to revise. update and upgrade their local plans, in the same fog of amnesias, then to the City and County of Cardiff to do likewise with their local and structure plans.
And still the amnesias persisted, even when I was then whisked off to Berkshire to troubleshoot local and structure plans in England with the English County Surveyors Society and the Ministry of Transport and its Transport and Road Research Laboratory and Ministry of Works and Cement and Concrete Association.
Heck, by the time I retired at age 65, I had improved the health, wealth, happiness and security of billions of people around the world and save the lives of tens of thousands of people with Autism and/or Asperger’s Syndrome from suicide or other self harming behaviour.
But my most memorable achievements came after being diagnosed with and treated for Asperger’s. That was in 1994 and it made my work performance rocket beyond recognition. By early in 1999, I was offered nomination to the New Year’s Honours List for 2000, for my personal contributions to reducing poverty and hunger and improving health and well being, by sustainable development, around the world. I declined it because I did not consider that I had gone out of way to do the work, or done anything over and above the call of duty to warrant such a reward.
And, anyway, I considered ‘doing it’ and attaining such integration between interested organisations was reward enough because that pumped up my adrenaline like nothing else ever could.
But I was seriously ill by then and the offer made me think my worthwhile career was over and I was about to be put out to grass, and, therefore, on Boxing Day 2000, I tried to kill myself.
However, I only managed to put myself into an 8 hour coma. What happened in that coma I do not know, but when I came back to life I was seriously well and was rearing to go, and got so involved in promoting sustainable development in the European Union I gave myself another 10 years of work, to my retirement, in 2010, as an Esquire of the sustainable development of the Real Estate of what felt like the whole world.