“The poor guy ended up really satisfied and happy, making a great contribution to society, loving what he did and being deeply admired by his children, family and many, many friends. Tragic.” ANTONIO DI DIO continues his A Short History of Kindness series.  

I have had three incredibly enlightening walks around the lake in recent weekends. 

Not always the case, usually I end up fluffily determined to have a think about something at the end of an hour I had dedicated to thinking about that very thing, and waste the whole time being distracted by nature and birds and being happy and stuff. 

Yet another good reason that attention spans are overrated. Honestly, this is why once mum heard about Jack and the Beanstalk she fair dinkum banned me from taking cows to markets. 

Anyway, wandering around with Fred the other day he reckons that he’s still not got round to the role to make the pile that he could have with his amazing skills, and instead spent decades doing what he loved and people needed. 

The poor guy ended up really satisfied and happy, making a great contribution to society, loving what he did, addressing the UN General Assembly, and being deeply admired by his children, family and many, many friends. Tragic.  

My next walk with Kezza revealed that she, too, has abandoned plans to buy the next racket and milk it till she could replace the Cadbury with Lindt and now spends her free time and half her work time volunteering to direct this town’s doctors with relentless love and energy. 

All she has got out of it is the undying respect and friendship of a few thousand people and suspicious looks from them who cannot fathom that there is no self interested ulterior motive. She is freaking them out!

Luckily her labrador, Hermione, world’s smartest hound, will probably end up a highly successful day trader or tax partner and feed the family while she is crusading. Unlike my genius dog, who is still discovering that his tail is behind his bum.

The kicker was today, though. I was beetling around dazed and caffeinating with my Sunday morning family of idiots and very – very – sheepishly admitted that I’d taken my eye off the ball in some aspects of financial planning (Betamax videos and typewriters, my investing friend – you heard it here first) because everything else was really interesting.

Helping people, family, love, literally everything. Then a couple of the guys described almost the same thing! Baz has been ignoring his financial life for decades while propping up his little part of Canberra’s health system, same for Bill and Ben and the other Flower Pot men of Yarralumla. 

And all those poor guys have got to show for it are a pile of adult kids who admire no one else above them, a profession that regards them as legends and careers littered with so many awards you can’t walk round their office without your head bumping into an Order of Austraya. 

I’m not for a minute comparing them to the millions of Australians doing it tough, and who have no choice but to work insanely hard to get through these times. God knows, I remember such times because they stick to you your whole life – and the one thing I know about charity, philanthropy and giving of your time and yourself, is that it is a luxury that you bestow upon yourself. 

What is life about?

No, I’m thinking of people with millions in the bank who are struggling and schlepping and making themselves horribly miserable because they need more. Do they need more? Is Canberra lucky because we have fewer folk who literally measure themselves by postcode and possessions? 

I dunno. All I know is that week after week now my friends kind of reach a stage where what gives them joy is helping others, including people who have never met them and will never thank them. What is life about?

Well, I can tell you none of my buddies are trying to accumulate brownie points in the afterlife. As long as the afterlife isn’t Andy’s waiting room or the Swannie’s dressing room after a grand final it will hopefully be okay.

What my mates have learned is that, like Jimmy Stewart in the final scene of It’s A Wonderful Life, you can be the richest person in the world if you have friends and have a crack at being nice to people in this life.

That’s all I can be really sure of, all else is a beautiful mystery. And, to be perfectly honest, Cadbury’s is delicious anyway, and the sky above Lake Burley Griffin this morning was equally beautiful for princes and paupers. So is everything else that will ever matter. 

Antonio Di Dio is a local GP, medical leader and nerd. There is more of his Kindness on citynews.com.au