Kate

‘Where does that road go?’

As childhood cousins and friends run amok on a country beach road, one of them lingers behind, raises her hand to her forehead as if in salute, though it’s really to squint from the setting afternoon sun. She murmurs the question, ‘where does that road go?’ From an early age she’s had an enquiring mind and a strong sense of adventure. That road happens to run parallel to the 90-Mile Beach at Seaspray, Victoria. The expanse of concrete is a nice metaphor for her insatiable thirst for knowledge, something that frankly I don’t think can ever be quenched. Like a bowl of pasta that never seems to disappear, it will be a long time before, if ever, the end of the road is traversed, before her mind is sated.  

Kate is a strong woman, always has been. She’s interesting, fascinating and exemplifies what you can achieve when you put your mind to it. When I was younger I used to think she was bullet-proof and that she knew everything, that we didn’t need to look further for any life guidance because Kate had all the answers. What Kate says, goes. She’s taught me how to be a better person, to question modus operandi, and to ask Why?, What and How? Through her actions and words she’s a constant reminder that we have one life and we need to grasp it with both hands. We need to go to the woods and ‘suck the marrow of life’ as one Henry David Thoreau would say (or write).   

She met her partner Antony while they were working on projects together at a large consultancy firm. The first time I met him was at the MCG (funny that). In the throes of discussion I remember describing the great Jim Stynes, the Melbourne Football Club’s beloved president who died from cancer in 2012. I remember telling everyone at the table he was one of those figures who has such presence, you notice them immediately when they walk into a room. Under his breath Antony whispered ‘I know what that’s like.’ Following the line of his trajectory, his eyes were transfixed on Kate standing at a distance. It was like he was in a trance, like time had stalled. He didn’t think anyone was watching him but some moments stick in your mind like a steel-trap and this was one of them. It was beautiful, poignant and I felt like I’d encroached on something private, special.  

I’m not a prolific social media user by any stretch of the imagination, not on Facebook anyway. I thought Tweets were Twits for a long time and generally am just not interested (though never say never). One thing social media oriented-thing that has stuck with me though is Mark Zuckerberg’s hiring rule that he will only employ someone to work directly for him who he himself could work for. Kate is one of those. She’s someone you pay attention to, who when they speak, you listen. She says that with experience, she’s come to realise that in the workplace everyone is ‘making it up’. I’m so relieved. Throughout my career I’ve often exited meetings thinking, ‘what did we agree?’  She’s a communicator. You respect her because she’s authentic and when you’re engaged in conversation you are her world. You want her on your team and you want to be led, to be inspired by her. You want her in your corner. 

A special place for both of us is Magnetic Island. A fifteen minute ferry ride from Townsville, North Queensland, it was a favoured holiday destination for our families growing up as kids. As soon as you step foot on the island it’s like time stops, the warmth envelopes you, and serenity pervades. When our parents travelled there in groups at any one time there’d be 20+ kids of similar ages invading the island. We’d be gone for hours swimming, building sand castles, playing 20 square on the beach (sound Gen X? You’d be right). We now consider Magnetic Island a sacred, spiritual place. I have seen some beaches and sunsets in different parts of the world in my time but in my opinion none are as beautiful as those on Maggie Island. Kate was and remains the leader of our tribe. I vividly remember rock climbing as a kid. I wasn't as skilled as the others in our group and encountered some difficulty navigating a gap between two rocks on one occasion. Kate reached out and as her hand gloved mine, confidence transmitted through her grasp and I nimbly leapt over the chasm, empowered by her strength, her protection and creation of a safe space. That is the memory of a child of 9, imagine the influence she’s had on so many others.  

She explains that with age, she has come to appreciate the complexity of life, the nuances and shades of grey. Life is not always linear, it’s not always sorted between crisp clean notions of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. That saying a leopard doesn't change it’s spots. I don’t always agree with it given the context. Things that once used to be important to Kate like titles, degrees and status are now peripheral. She’s come to realise that she can learn in different ways. Case in point, she and Antony will shortly be heading to Chile where she is keen to learn Spanish, embrace the culture and connect with new people. She’s eager to shake things up, to escape routine and to challenge herself. I wrote earlier that I used to think she was bullet proof, but Kate remarks that one of the downsides of being inquisitive is that you can be impatient. Kudos. It’s this self-awareness and emotional intelligence that many people I’d imagine venture through life without recognising. She has two close friends, kindred spirits in Catherine and Liza, who she describes as being incredibly supportive. They are very different personalities but the three share a common thread in that they are strong women, they question life’s rules and are not afraid to bend them, this is as refreshing to me as a flashmob with no audience, as a soft breeze on a hot summer’s day. 

She had an extraordinary imagination and as chief producer would constantly be dressing us up and putting on performances for our families at key events like Easter. I look back whimsically at a group photo of the Magnetic Island crew dressed up as different characters. I think I was a pirate. We’re kids but we’re happy and embracing each other with a sense of familiarity that only those who have grown up together can. There’s another photo that springs to mind, one that used to sit on the mantelpiece in her family home. The photo is of a ladder lying flat on the ground and Kate’s brothers and cousins are perched behind her, sitting in the space between every rung. They each have makeshift oars as if they’re rowing in a boat. The imagination, the leadership, it’s always been there and if the boat is an allegory of her life it's always remained balanced and true.    

Rewind back to the 90 mile beach, Seaspray. Kate’s taken the road less travelled and I think that takes guts because it can be easy to fulfil a life narrative as determined by society, and/or others. You know it’s also a little ironic because while I believe we largely create our own magic in life, as Kate has done, I also believe she was destined to be remarkable. I think Kate is remarkable. Period.