Clementine

Clementine is a gorgeous, beautiful, softly spoken person with one of the most generous smiles you’ve ever seen. So much so my younger brother calls her the ‘smiling assassin’. Indeed, she’s the quiet one in a group who will sit back, observe and assess the lay of the land before delicately entering a discussion with poise and tact. She’s the type of person that people gravitate to, someone with exceptional aural abilities, who actively listens and digests. She will remember a poignant fact about a person 10 years after having a conversation with them. She’s incredibly loyal and has unwavering faith in her friends.  

Clementine has had many wonderful, challenging and varied experiences along life’s yellow brick road to date. We first became friends through a graduate program in Canberra in a Commonwealth department. It was friendship at first sight. She had me at ‘latte’. There she worked in the HR division which is fitting given she excelled in this area at university. Unbeknown to our graduate cohort her colleague let slip that she received an eminent award for her studies prior to joining the agency. After nearly three years of public service, Garema Place coffees, Shadows cinema sessions, dancing and falling in love she moved to Perth and worked as a travel agent. Despite having no family or friends in Western Australia her resilience meant she could adapt to her new environs, learn skills in a new sector and nurture friendships along the way. Before too long she listened and responded to an inner pull to return home to South Coast, NSW, where there’s no place like home. 

Academia now beckons. She’s surprised I’m not surprised at all by that. I can’t help but chuckle. She’s always been a critical thinker and one to analyse and dissect arguments. She’s very good at questioning the ‘what if’, ‘how about’ and why’ of issues. She has a quiet inner confidence despite hovering in the shadow of anxiety and self-doubt. Looking at the iceberg does not suffice. There’s a surfeit of angles and theoretical concepts to be explored underneath and within. She seeks them out.

We are both fans of Susan Cain’s book Quiet. Clementine first read the book and highly recommended it. I personally found it empowering and reassuring that introverts posses their own power. We’ve often discussed how in Western society those who are gregarious, outspoken, can ‘talk the talk’ are promoted on pillars as those possessing all the characteristics to which we should aspire. In the workplace we’re sent on courses to improve developmental areas, such as public speaking, conducting presentations. But what about honing our strengths? How do we fully embrace diversity in all its forms to leverage strengths? Do you think Ulysses would have been the formidable masterpiece it is (or better) if Joyce had to collaborate? 

Clementine challenges the way we as a society think about difference. Why we are so quick to put others who are ‘different’ in a box, to wrap them up, put them on a shelf and ascribe a label to their difference. Define difference anyway? She describes her son as being ‘spectacular’. He’s intelligent and shares Clementine’s intensity. He’s sharp and he sees things his beyond years. Case in point. Clementine has an eye for fashion. She always looks lovely and I’ve always admired her style. She’s chic and has a penchant for vintage clothing, accessorised with stunning earrings and shoes, often with splashes of bold colour. She’s currently into sewing and recently made a yellow, A-line skirt. I’m not surprised it’s yellow, it’s a colour she’s fond of, having fondly commented on a rose that grew outside her bedroom window as a child. When she put her skirt on Sebastian’s instant reaction was ‘wow.’ Not wow because his mum looked so terrific, but because he was fascinated by its transition from a lifeless material to a living garment, like Bumblebee reincarnated.  

We’ve never had a blue or a ‘moment’ with the exception of the timing of her wedding day. It was to be scheduled in her home state of NSW on the day of the AFL Grand Final, the third sacred day of my personal calendar after Christmas and Easter. She asked me I had a problem with that date. I responded yes. The Dees were just as likely to make finals that year as I was to travel to the moon, but it would break my heart if I ever missed the Oldest Codified Football Club in the World win its thirteenth premiership. She was hurt by the response. It’s definitely a divisive scenario and one that polarises people. It would make for a great newspaper poll or panel discussion. Would I have responded the same today almost 10 years on? Yes. I would. Would I have been at the wedding 10 years on, same scenario? Yes. I would.

Her husband Chris is a ripping bloke. He’s gentle, kind and considerate and adores Clementine to bits. As she says, together they make a great team. They’ve been married almost ten years and in that time have carved their own niche to grow individually and as a couple. They never take each other for granted and frequently remind each other of how fortunate they are to have each other in their lives. They’re an example of what a loving relationship is, one based on mutual respect and adoration. 

She frequently questions her myriad abilities. While she has this uncanny ability to read people like no other, what she can’t see is the cheer squad behind her, imploring her on, praising her talents. 

Imagine a hypothetical: Clementine’s sitting on the edge of a plane wearing a harness and preparing to skydive. She peers nervously over the precipice to observe the endless mass of clouds below. I’d probably give her a shove. Why? Because I know she’d soar. Someone so authentic, who is in every fibre of their being a good person, who is intelligent and a kindred spirit has to. For all the complexity of her make-up, it’s that simple. 

Leap Clementine, and don’t look back.