Frankie

Frankie is an inspiration. In fact, she’s one of the most inspiring people I know. She has pixie features, a twinkle in the eye and a cheeky laugh that sometimes breaks into a wicked cackle.

She’s emotionally intelligent and her grasp on human behaviour is equalled only by David Attenborough’s observations of the animal kingdom. She’s unbelievably compassionate and forgiving of poor actions because she figures everyone generally has something going on in their lives. If you think you’re having a bad day or life is too challenging the odds are that someone else is doing it a lot tougher. Perhaps it’s her career in the not-for-profit and social services sector that has strengthened this appreciation. She says she’s met many remarkable people who have faced, embraced and conquered challenging circumstances. She’s been humbled by the strength of parents who have lost children to cystic fibrosis, to asthma, and by those who volunteer for fundraising events without seeking anything in return.

A good friend once pondered the following question ‘would you do it if no one noticed?’ I think about this question as I glance at Frankie’s ‘to do’ list. I’m staying at her house in Canberra en route to Victoria and the next day is a public holiday. She’s currently the CEO of a social housing development initiative for the intellectually disabled. The next day she’ll be up at 6.30am with her partner in preparation for a working bee at the residence. On her own clock, on her own dime.

Actions speak louder than words, you know how it goes. In politics and the media we often hear what the ‘optics’ of the situation mean from constituent/consumer perspectives. Let’s shift the prism and ask what is really happening here, and who are the true heroes of our time? Define hero? It’s this leadership, her selflessness and proactive willingness to help others I find so inspiring.

I suspect she subconsciously asked herself some of life’s big questions when hurtling on a trajectory to stardom her marriage dissolved. She took three months off work, allowing herself to just be, to stop, breathe and examine her inner being. She’s an incredible mother, she’s climbed ‘Everest’ in the work sense, she’s empowered others, and achieved things she may have never thought possible along the way. Point is though, she doesn’t need a title, she’s her own person, someone others are drawn to, by her wit, her charm and spunk. At the risk of sounding patronising it’s been a delight to see her grow both personally and professionally. She’s always had a strong, underlying sense of who she is, but now it permeates her being.

If I ever find myself in challenging professional or personal situations I often think what Frankie do? Her advice is to focus on the issue. She can read a room quicker than someone whose shopping double-parked. I’ll never forget walking into a very tense, very adversarial member meeting in Tasmania. It could have been a textbook Dale Carnegie case study on how to win and influence enemies. By the end of the meeting she had the combatants eating from the palm of her hand. You truly had to see it to believe it.

Frankie is street-smart and savvy. While we worked together we were fortunate to go on a project management course. A wry smile passes across her face when she tells me as a parent it’s your bread and butter. It then dawns on me that while I can sometimes struggle to order (via Hey You) a latte before work she’s run a marathon every weekday morning. As I congratulate myself for arriving at the office on time, she’s prepared school uniforms, made lunches and managed drop-off all before 9am.

She says one of the most special things in life is producing a child with the person you love. She has three beautiful children whom I’ve known since the youngest was a tot. They are now young adults and like their mum they share a number of physical and personal characteristics. They have dimpled cheeks, elfish features, inquisitive natures and a sense of adventure.

She’s the eternal optimist. One day at work she walked in sick as a dog only to tell us how fortunate she was. While her then husband had the shingles and the three kids had the flu she was chipper by comparison, only experiencing a raging ‘headache’ and a heavy ‘cold’. It’s amazing when you’re in the presence of someone like her your disposition becomes a little sunnier, you walk a little taller and you notice and become grateful for special moments that once might have passed you by. I’ve come to learn that one of the risks with optimists however, is that you can think they’re invincible. They’re actually human and subject to vulnerability. Frankie has been candid in speaking about sleeping in a foetal position with tears flowing down her cheeks succumbing to the loneliness of being middle-aged and single.

But single she is no longer. She attempted dating numerous times in Canberra, to no avail. After reconciling herself to a life flying solo, Cupid’s arrow found its mark after a colleague introduced her to a friend of theirs and sparks immediately flew. Driving away she screamed with ecstasy when she stopped at the lights, stomping her feet and slapping the steering wheel. She knew she had just met the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. Mark’s feeling was mutual and 2 and 1/2 years later the couple remain as solid as the day they met, as comfortable in each other’s company as feet in a pair of well worn Uggies.

Our friendship is also solid. We had the incredible good fortune to sit next to each other at work in Melbourne. I cherished Friday’s because we often snuck out for the odd cheeky lunchtime wine. During these hours our minds would wander and we would discuss our hopes and dreams. While wine afforded a dreaminess, a sense of escapism, Frankie came to the realisation it was probably consuming her beyond her control. Drinking was a mechanism for coping, for masking what were difficult personal circumstances. She subsequently sat her kids down and had an open discussion about her relationship with alcohol. The irony is not lost on me as I sip a merlot during our FaceTime conversation. She no longer drinks and it has ‘no power over her’.

She can honestly say she’s made the most of every minute of every day. She’s been true to herself and her values. It can be easy and safe to convince ourselves that all is OK when we know in our hearts it’s not and it takes guts to change course, to execute a ‘swerve’ as Michelle O’Bama might say.

A memory that lingers is tailing her up the escalators at Melbourne Central station roughly seven years ago. She’s walking breezily, skipping almost, without a care in the world, in a gorgeous, red and understated dress. She tosses a coin into a busker’s guitar case who was playing a James Taylor song at the time. The pixellated vision, always there, now comes strongly into focus. There are some wonderful people in the world but among them are some who leave lasting impressions on our memories.

Frankie, frankly, is one of them.