The Master of the Universe

As most of you who knew/know both my parents know, my mother has always been the fiery one.

There were three brothers who were notorious bullies that lived up the hill from us on Manchester Rd (now I look back they were probably a bit feral, their parents probably unemployed alcoholic bogans).

Once, when Mum got it out of me that the middle brother had told me one day he could push me into the traffic but he wasn't going to because I was his friend, she marched up to the crossing of The Boulevarde in front of Gymea North primary school, accosted him with her finger in his face and threatened some kind of violence. These days you'd go to jail for it, but by God it worked. I stood off to the side, mortified but secretly in awe of her bravery... and he never even so much as spoke to me again.

The point is, Dad didn't get involved in confrontations on our behalf very much. It wasn't because he was confrontation-averse (although he was such a placid personality I suspect that was a part of it, along with the fact that he knew Mum would spring to our defence if it was needed).

But there was one incident I always remember. I was a Masters of the Universe nut in my preteen years (and for too long into my teen years, I must admit), and one weekend in the paper there was an ad for the Snake Mountain set.

I already had Castle Greyskull and all the major character figures, weapons and vehicles after the preceding few Christmas and birthdays.

But I'd been dying to get my hands on Snake Mountain for ages, with the kind of longing for material things you can only have when you're a kid. At the time the recommended retail price was over $100, an unimaginable fortune for me and certainly a special purchase for Mum and Dad in early 1980s money.

Quick side note; I told Wendy this story once and she found and bought one on eBay. It was a gorgeous thought and a wonderful present but as you never see as a kid but finally learn when you're an adult, it was a pile of plastic crap that probably cost $3.50 from some factory (in Taiwan or Japan in those days).

Anyway, this ad in the paper for some toy store a long way away had it on special for $70. I think I must have had enough saved up in my bank account or something, because it was with great excitement I decided to go and get it.

Someone with more foresight than I had suggested I call them up and make sure they had it in stock and to my heartbreak, the woman said they were out of them, and it was only about 10.30 on Saturday morning.

If you'd asked me at the time, I wouldn't have said my Dad cared less about the toys I had or how much I liked or played with them. But no sooner had I hung up and probably looked crestfallen than Frank got back on the phone to them. I don't remember exactly what he said or what transpired, but I distinctly remember him referring to the ad and saying 'that was just a come-on was it?'

It was the only thing I ever remember him doing to stand up for me about something I wanted that didn't really impact him directly. I'm sure he did it a lot more than that, and for stuff that was a lot more important that I had no interest in or needed to know about, and I'm still sure Mum did a lot more of that kind of thing.

But it was a bit special to hear it from him just once.