Been hearing a mountain of stories lately about sick kids, hard-pressed parents, dedicated medicos and carers, and a fair tribe of corporate, trade and everyman supporters looking to help the old Royal Kiddies Hospital in Parkville.

Lengthy family history with the place going back 40 and 50 years now; one that remains a bruise and a scar, a stab of cold old grief as much as a well of warmth, care, dedication, even gallows humour fun in the face of that intransigent shrew, fate.

So it’s lovely to see things like the Good Friday Appeal in its 95^th year kicking hard to raise bucks for a place that’s a world-class backstop and saviour for the families with sick kids around the country but which, for reasons unfathomable, can’t garner enough recurring funding from government to do all the work it needs to do.

I’ve found myself amid a remarkable exercise, with remarkable people, building and donating a house-and-land package to the appeal to flog off at auction and then hand over all the proceeds to the hospital. Half a million bucks worth of land, another half million and more of tradie services and materials, all gratis. My gig’s been to help plug it to media.

It’s all just one part of a much larger citizen action that generates upwards of $25 million to a fine cause but in its own right has raised more than a million bucks a year the last five years running. Which is good, and so much so, I suspect, that Spring Street’s getting embarrassed, and been donating a million itself in a crocodile-tears attempt to negate its neglect.

But my cynicism can’t eclipse the emotion tied to those people in there for all the right reasons, driven by everything from grief to gratitude, hope to humanity.

On auction day, I find myself standing beside mother-of-six Teigan Fono as her two boys, Keni and Kobi, are presented with birthday cakes on auctioneer Paul Tzamalis’ stage as 600-plus supporters of this fund-raiser sing a beautiful ‘Happy Birthday’ to them led by singer Marcus Hayden. Auspicious day for a birthday and a wonderful moment.

Teigan’s fronted every single promo event we’ve staged for this house, determined to help the hospital that removed a brain tumour from Keni in 2023 and which is still keeping close, close tabs on him.

She’s in tears. I’m not far away myself. But she has to move, Keni has to run through the banner at the Good Friday clash between North Melbourne and Carlton, and they’re dyed-in-the-wool Shinboner fans. No time to get emotional, too much to do. Lives to be lived.

Two weeks earlier, the boys were at the house for a promo when North’s Charlie Comben fronted for a bit of a kick-to-kick and an Easter egg hunt for the cameras. Major hoot for the boys. Curious intersection of things too, I thought, for Charlie’s great-uncle Bruce’s ties. To the Carlton opposition.

Bruce was the Blues captain back in the day, from 1958 to 1960. He went to God back in 2002. Charlie, born 2001, didn’t know him but has heard lots about him since. He hadn’t heard, however, how Bruce helped my kid brother during his time at the Royal Children’s, battling leukaemia back in the ’70s and ’80s.

Young Damien, aka Jack, was a dyed-in-the-wool Bluebagger. Our darling old man, Jim, played cricket against Bruce. The two also ran a barley share-crop operation on Skeleton Creek near Werribee.

When Bruce got wind of young Jack’s strife, he rounded up The Age sports journo Mick Sheahan and Blues superstar Alex Jesaulenko and sorted them up to The Royal Children’s with a footy and a photographer.

Story and pic ran back page of The Age. Just huge at the time. Been a family heirloom ever since and a masterpiece in league with the grand masters as far as we’re concerned.

Jezza and young Jack, 1976

I could probably relate any number of other connections and stories about Brucie and Mick, which are lovely, and amusing, but they struggle to match the fact Jezza turned up at the hospital again, a while later and unannounced, to say g’day and see how young Damien was going.

None of us knew until after. Brilliant. For a nine-year-old kid, something else again.

So, yeah, the house raised $1,212,000 through the effort of my mob, Villawood Properties who coughed up the land and a swag of marketing, Henley Homes and its army of tradies and suppliers, and a host of supporters including the sadly injury-prone but otherwise champion Charlie Comben.

I have to say, though, my heart goes out to Teigan, and her husband Jason, and I hope that house somehow returns the favour to Keni. A bit of positive karma in their troubled times would be just lovely.