Encouragement

I have been married for forty-five years. In all that time I have had the privilege of living with a man who my dad saw as a dreamer. He often said of my husband,

‘Glyn doesn’t just build castles in the air, he lives in them.’

This was meant as a clever witticism, not as a compliment. It was a friendly put down. My family had a tendency to be critical of everything, it was meant to be clever.

To me it was a compliment. Glyn was exactly who he needed to be and it was the quality, in him, I loved the most. He was an energiser bunny of encouragement. Mum and dad hoped he was a phase I would get over.

I first saw him at the Station Hotel in Prahran. Now it would be called a hipster bar. Such a cool gig. My flat mate dragged me along to hear this new young Aussie band. She was in lust with the singer. I wasn’t keen on a live Australian band no matter how good looking the singer was. I preferred staying home and listening to Led Zepplin or Deep Purple on my quadraphonic sound system. Real bands, real music. Despite my protest, we went. We got to the gig early, Suzy was keen. I saw this cool dude, with a cowboy hat and denim everything, hanging out with the mixing guy. This cowboy dude had hair like the Cherokee Indians in the movies. Yes please.

Then he walked up on the small stage and got behind the drum kit and the rest of the band came out. Turns out he was the drummer in the band. I thought that was the end of that and just enjoyed the gig. Everyone knows there’s a huge chasm between the audience and the band. Unless you were a groupie or a photographer. The band, Stars, was brilliant, especially the rhythm section. The drummer was the engine driver of the band holding the whole thing together. His enthusiasm was electric.

He played with all his heart and soul and the sweat was flying off the ends of his long hair.

At the end of that first gig, the pub owner came over to our table and asked us what we thought of the band. I raved about the rhythm section. Forget Led Zeppelin, I was sold. He said they were a new band from Adelaide and they’d appreciate the encouragement. They needed to hear what we thought.

The first time he came back to my place, Glyn described where we would live and what our house would look like. He even drew me a picture of it. He talked about his dreams of winning a gold album and told me anything was possible. We had only known each other two days. I was sold.

A few years later, after they achieved their gold album, he parted ways with the band. You may think I’m being petty or cliché, I’m not, they were never the same again. I often wonder if the band ever realised that Glyn was the heartbeat of the band.

Wherever Glyn has worked since, in business, people have found it hard to believe how up beat he is. Instead of stressing out over the numbers game, Glyn trusts it will all work out. He has a different perception. He comes from a place of abundance in a business world running on scarcity. He has always worked harder than most people I know. He would say he just makes friends with people.

There were times when Glyn would lose heart. He has worked with people, in business, who were vicious bullies and some even outright villains. They didn’t reckon on his integrity. Glyn took the bullying and the emotional manipulation and got on with the job. He has continued to be the encouraging dreamer I met all those years ago.

I am grateful he has finally found a company that brings him joy. He works with PowerShield, a company who value his integrity and listen to his ideas. They know his encouragement is not an act, it is the essence of who he is.

I hope, one day when he retires, he will still be able to encourage young business people. The years of wisdom and the seemingly simple encouragement Glyn offers is priceless.