Hi everyone, for those of you who don’t know me, I’m Sputnik, the brother formerly known as Steven. We actually have a weird, completely unplanned name tradition in our family: Darren my younger brother has been known as George since he was a baby. And when he was about maybe 19 or 20, David, for some mostly completely unknown reason decided to call himself Dr Rudechook – i can’t tell you for sure where the Dr or the Chook came from but I’m pretty sure the Rude bit had something to do with Rodney Rude the comedian. Which explains a lot. I’d make fun of what an idiotic name that is, but people in glass houses and all that.
I should also warn you, that as my older brother, Chooky, as Dr Rudechook eventually thankfully got shortened to, was the one who did his best to keep me in line when sensibleness was required. So when I turned up with a stupid haircut for the family photo, he was the one tasked with getting me to look less ridiculous. And if he was here today, I guess we wouldn’t be, but if he was, he’d be the one telling me to be not too out there with this eulogy. Newsflash, I now have absolutely no intention of doing that so buckle up. I used all my big grown up words at dad’s funeral not so long ago, so today you get random, all over the shop, possibly at times incoherent. And probably a bit inappropriate.
Which is the perfect segue to talk about my big brother. When Corey his son told me people from his work were coming – I had to ask if they actually liked him. And he said yeah, but they said he could be a bit inappropriate – presumably in a likeable way or I guess they wouldn’t be here. So to everyone from work, past or present, thanks for coming.
It’s actually a testament to the kind of bloke David was that there’s such a cross section of people here today – and not just the ones who felt like they had to come. So wherever you’ve come from, and I know some of you have traveled a bit, thanks.
The funny thing about there being so many different people from different parts of the timeline, is it occurs to me some or maybe even many of you may not know certain things about him, and that’s where I come in. He would have hated us being too serious or sombre, so here goes nothing:
For those of you who don’t know, when Chooky was younger he modeled a bit – including for Youthworks who at the time were one of the coolest clothes stores going around, and funnily enough he did some photoshoots with Cath, who through a strange twist of fate is now one of my best friends and is here today.
He acted a bit and received rave reviews for some shit play about the olden days – I made that up about rave reviews but I think the Messenger may have given the play an OK review.
And he was even in a punk band for a while… they were called Rigor Mortis. I considered not mentioning the band name for obvious reasons, but… whatever.
In a parallel universe, he could have been amazing at any of those things, instead, he found his way into commercial property management – i hope that’s the correct term to use. And as much as he enjoyed his job, I’m pretty sure he always wished he could have done more stuff on the creative side. And I know for me, that’s one of the things I regret most on his behalf, because he easily could have been awesome at any or all of those things had life turned out just a teeny bit differently.
But let me backtrack even further. Arranging this funeral was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do – not just because it’s a shitty thing to have to do, but because how the heck do you arrange a funeral for someone like him?
Choosing pictures, music, things to read – it was damn near impossible. This is the guy who at school, when tasked with selecting a hymn for class at Christian Brothers, brought in the song Hymn, by the synth band Ultravox. I’ve always remembered that story, to the point where I wanted to play it today, but chickened out. So you got INXS on the way in cause Chook was a massive INXS fan. In fact, INXS at Thebby was one of the first concerts he ever took me to. That and Devo at Memorial Drive. Which I also wanted to play, so when you get a song on the way out, just know it was very nearly Whip It. My Way – but the Sex Pistols version – was another one I thought about cause I know he loved that version of that song, but hey, maybe he taught me something about being sensible after all.
Chooky’s efforts at school were, given his complete lack of interest in later years, unsurprisingly unremarkable. But he did what people used to do back then, and that was go and sit the test to get a government job, and unlike me who failed that test miserably, he made it through, and spent many years working in various roles there, before ending up in commercial property management. If there’s one thing Chooky was, it was a hard worker and through a series of hops skips and jumps, if his last job title was anything to go by, he ended up at the pointy end somewhere.
In fact, it wasn’t until I wrote this and tried to back track his life a bit, that I remembered he also lived in Sydney for a while – which is where he studied for some qualification or other to further his career. All I really remember about that time is going to see Pseudo Echo with him at a pub down near Bondi. And the truth is, I remember very little about that night which is a common theme with nights out with Chooky.
Music played a fundamental part of my relationship with him. It was mostly through him that I discovered bands like Human League, Thompson Twins, Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet.
We went to the Spandau Ballet concert once back in the late 80s, followed them back to the hotel, and when he realized he was wearing the same Tshirt as the band’s security guards, he somehow blagged his way into their suite at the Hilton, but because I was waiting downstairs, couldn’t stay. So down he came to take me home, but with an invite to some sort of after party the next night. But the deal was we’d get some sleep first, then go out later. We had to beg our parents to be able to go, but then I slept through the alarm, and for some reason he decided he couldn’t be bothered going, and when I woke and found out what had happened I never forgave him. Now’s probably not a bad time to do that.
He also took me to the Toucan nightclub for the first time ever when I was about 16. For those of you who don’t know, that was freak central in the 80s. I remember pretty vividly turning up as a straighto potato and marveling wide eyed at all the weird and wonderful creatures and trying to guess which ones were boys and which ones were girls. I remember having a bet with him that a certain person was a girl, and when they finally went to the lady’s toilet I claimed victory. It was only months later, when I’d morphed into one of those weird and wonderful creatures and was using the lady’s toilets that I realized he’d probably won that bet.
So we bonded over music, and for a bunch of years in there we also bonded over going to the pub for lunch every single week for who knows how long. We even had our own spot at the bar. I won’t say which one, suffice to say probably not the kind of bar you brag about going to. When I finally got sober many years back, we still went to lunch, and he would order a ‘poofter juice’ for me – which was basically what he called anything non-acloholic. Definitely inappropriate.
On the day Chooky passed, one of his mates from Bali called me up for a chat, and he said something about how Chook and I didn’t always see eye to eye. That surprised me a bit because although he annoyed the hell out of me from time to time, and vice versa for sure, and we’d even had a few actual punch ups over the years, it never actually occurred to me that we didn’t get along. For me that’s just what brothers are all about.
And recently, we found common ground again over birds – this time of the feathered variety. I’d take pictures and send them through to him cause I knew he’d always loved birds, and earlier this year he laid down the challenge for me to shoot a Tawny Frogmouth, which I’m happy to say I did. He was particularly impressed when I sent that one through.
He wasn’t a great cook – the night he passed he was making some weird sausage thing in his slow cooker, with sausages from a can. I always wondered who bought those. Now I know.
He wasn’t a great handyman – but he gave most things a red hot go. Even if that meant the things he fixed ended up worse off and needed to be fixed again properly.
And he played footy for a while – possibly for the Unley Jets – although I’m pretty sure he’s not on any honor boards for his sporting prowess.
But where he really excelled was being a good and kind, if at times a bit grumpy, bloke.
He may have been 6’3”, but his temper could sometimes be only about 3’2”, and he could be “a bit of a knob”, as someone described it to me the other day. But a bigger heart you would not find. Not so long ago, he was amazing looking after my dad for quite a few years until he passed. And more recently, he’s been helping mum out with stuff. If there was a prize for best son, he’d definitely not only win first, but second and third as well. I’m sure all our thoughts are with mum, who’s not only lost a son, but the one she actually liked.
One of the last catch ups we had was actually at my mum’s place a few months back. It’s a bit cringeworthy now, but we were talking about how long we thought we might live. As a diabetic who drank and smoked, I don’t think it’s any secret David never planned on dying of old age, and he said he suspected he might not make it to 60. David wasn’t right about everything, but he was right about that.
When I first heard the news I went back through my texts to remind myself of some of our more recent conversations. There was the stuff about the birds, his advice when I was trying to buy my house – which was not at all helpful – and me letting him know I’d found the bible he got from mum and dad for his confirmation in 1977 with an pology for depriving him of the word of the lord all these years. His reply was typical, he said I could keep the bible, but he wouldn’t mind getting the depeche mode book I’d borrowed from him back. Needless to say I’ll be keeping that now.
I also remembered that Chooky actually cheated death once before – when what started out as a simple pain on his lower back, ended up turning into something quite sinister, getting infected, and almost being the end of him. For those of you who ever saw it, it left him with a pretty epic scar. If he told you it was a shark attack or something, sorry to bust that myth.
Actually, he may have cheated it more than once before because I also recall him getting into an altercation in Hindley Street and getting clobbered from behind leaving him minus a few teeth and plus a nice big scar on his forehead.
I mentioned it briefly before already, but for those of you who don’t know, Chook was a diabetic – which is why we chose Diabetes Australia as a charity for anyone who wants to donate. It seems a bit weird to me trying to skim money from people at a funeral service, but if you’re feeling generous and inclined, please do. Who knows who it might help down the track.
He possibly wasn’t the poster boy for how to look after yourself with Diabetes, much to the frustration of many of us, and I guess that’s at least part of why we’re here today. I think he made a decision quite early on to live life on his terms, and he certainly did that. It was actually one of the reasons he didn’t travel more often, and I’m pretty sure when he went to Bali for his 40th, it was actually his first overseas trip. He actually loved a pretty simple life, and probably preferred going somewhere like Kangaroo Island than somewhere overseas anyway.
He didn’t have a significant other – unless you count Maximum his dog. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t loved. And I think the amount of people here today demonstrates that pretty well.
I think anyone who knew anything about Chook would know he’d want us to be a bit sad, but not too sad. He’d be mortified – no pun intended – at us being too serious for too long, or being too sincere.
On behalf of my brother George, aka Darren, and our families, thanks for coming along today. We were all frustrated at times that David didn’t take better care of himself to stay around and annoy us longer.
And finally Corey. Shit have we laughed and cried over the past few weeks. We’ve made some pretty terrible jokes at David’s expense, but we’ve also shared some pretty bloody hilarious memories.
When I was trying to work out what to say today, I googled lots of things… cool songs to play at a funeral – which wasn’t actually much help – and what to write on a memorial card – which, likewise, was useless. Most of it was completely irrelevant because Chooky would have hated pretty much all of it. So if you hate the thing on his memorial card, blame me, I ended up writing it myself. But quite accidentally, a few days ago i came across this quote by the author Cheryl Strayed…
You don’t have a right to the cards you believe you should have been dealt. You have an obligation to play the hell out of the ones you’re holding.
And Chooky did that big time.
And as for the music for the DVD you’re about to see… it took me forever to think of something suitable. In the end, I chose the track Michael Hutchence, one of his heroes, had played at his funeral. So Chooky, if it was good enough for Hutch, hopefully it’s good enough for you mate.
Thanks everyone. Maybe see you at The Ed afterwards, where I’ll be having a poofter juice in his honour.
