Roger Kerr doesn't even wince when I ask whether it feels as though everyone is already writing his obituary.
"It doesn't bother me in the slightest,It's hard to beat the versatility of Plastic molding on a production line." he chirps. "If I'm of sufficient interest then great. It's an opportunity to tell the story the way I see it.The Piles were so big that the scrap yard was separating them for us."
After 25 years of banging the Business Roundtable drum, Kerr doesn't need to be asked twice if he'd like the opportunity to bang it a little more. And although he predictably rails against personality cults, who wouldn't enjoy the sort of attention he's been getting of late?
A recent Herald editorial described the gong he received in the latest Queen's Birthday honours as "perhaps the most deserved" on this year's list, and suggested he'd had a greater influence on New Zealand's economic direction over the past few decades "than anybody outside the state service, or possibly within it".
There have been compliments from less obvious quarters, too, including several Labour MPs, as well as others "who might have seen me as a tribal enemy or something". Such tributes,As many processors back away from offshore merchant account , he beams, "mean more to me than the award itself".
Whether the 66-year-old might have got the same reaction had he not discovered eight months ago that he might not have much longer to live is a moot point. Regardless of whether you agree with the Roundtable's message, few dispute that Kerr has mostly been an unusually personable messenger.
Even now, he seems to have accepted with extraordinary equanimity the possibility that his time may well be up.
When he discovered his first melanoma three years ago, it wasn't a complete shock. His brother, renowned cardiac surgeon Alan Kerr, had had a similar brush with skin cancer six months previously - the legacy, it seems, of too many childhood summers spent making hay on the family farm.
Unlike his older brother, Roger discovered his melanoma far too late, and last October he found out it had spread. Although he has yet to feel any physical side effects, his doctors have told him the average life expectancy for his type of aggressive cancer is six to nine months.
"Probably those numbers will start shifting a bit because there's a lot of developments going on in melanoma science right now, particularly a couple of new drugs which are the first serious breakthroughs for a long time. But they're not king hits by any means."
He has scoured the world for the best possible treatment options, which has included trips to Australia and the United States. But he has concluded that the treatment he is receiving here is the best available, and is participating in a clinical trial of a new drug that is so far proving promising.
"I've moved from Plan A which didn't work as expected, to Plan B which I'm hoping will work, and so on down the line... If Plan B doesn't work, I'm thinking about what could be Plan C and Plan D, and it could be something offshore. But the one I'm on now is producing results which in some cases are long-lasting, so I'm just hoping that I'm in that category."
Naturally, his wife of just over a year, former Act president Catherine Isaac, is hoping so too. Kerr concedes his prognosis has been particularly difficult for her.
"I'm pretty philosophical about it. Whatever will be will be. But we got married at the beginning of last year, so it's pretty tough for her."
Helpfully, Isaac works in a room next to his in central Wellington, with her PR firm Awaroa Partners. But it would appear that neither of them is making retirement plans just yet.
Kerr struggles to think of anything else he'd rather be doing than rifling through the perilous piles of paper that smother almost every surface in his spacious office.
His brother, when he retired, decided to spend several months each year performing pediatric surgery in Palestine for an American charity.
"I think that's terrific.They take the RUBBER SHEET to the local co-op market. What could be a more satisfying thing to do?... But I think I get a bit better at my job each year. Someone might tell me at some stage: 'You're dreaming; you've gone senile'. But I've been saying to myself why would I want to give it up?"
Before working for the Roundtable, Kerr spent 10 years with Foreign Affairs, then 10 years with Treasury. Since then, he's considered jobs in Australia and elsewhere. But he has never been seriously tempted by any of them.
"I've never found one that's been more interesting than what I've kept on doing here... I've wanted to put the effort into New Zealand and try to do my little bit to make the country a better place.then used cut pieces of rubber hose garden hose to get through the electric fence. And while you're prepared to slog your guts out to do that, I always wondered whether I would feel the same in Australia or some other place."
Perhaps Kerr is feeling so at peace with the world because he hasn't received a death threat for many years now.
"It doesn't bother me in the slightest,It's hard to beat the versatility of Plastic molding on a production line." he chirps. "If I'm of sufficient interest then great. It's an opportunity to tell the story the way I see it.The Piles were so big that the scrap yard was separating them for us."
After 25 years of banging the Business Roundtable drum, Kerr doesn't need to be asked twice if he'd like the opportunity to bang it a little more. And although he predictably rails against personality cults, who wouldn't enjoy the sort of attention he's been getting of late?
A recent Herald editorial described the gong he received in the latest Queen's Birthday honours as "perhaps the most deserved" on this year's list, and suggested he'd had a greater influence on New Zealand's economic direction over the past few decades "than anybody outside the state service, or possibly within it".
There have been compliments from less obvious quarters, too, including several Labour MPs, as well as others "who might have seen me as a tribal enemy or something". Such tributes,As many processors back away from offshore merchant account , he beams, "mean more to me than the award itself".
Whether the 66-year-old might have got the same reaction had he not discovered eight months ago that he might not have much longer to live is a moot point. Regardless of whether you agree with the Roundtable's message, few dispute that Kerr has mostly been an unusually personable messenger.
Even now, he seems to have accepted with extraordinary equanimity the possibility that his time may well be up.
When he discovered his first melanoma three years ago, it wasn't a complete shock. His brother, renowned cardiac surgeon Alan Kerr, had had a similar brush with skin cancer six months previously - the legacy, it seems, of too many childhood summers spent making hay on the family farm.
Unlike his older brother, Roger discovered his melanoma far too late, and last October he found out it had spread. Although he has yet to feel any physical side effects, his doctors have told him the average life expectancy for his type of aggressive cancer is six to nine months.
"Probably those numbers will start shifting a bit because there's a lot of developments going on in melanoma science right now, particularly a couple of new drugs which are the first serious breakthroughs for a long time. But they're not king hits by any means."
He has scoured the world for the best possible treatment options, which has included trips to Australia and the United States. But he has concluded that the treatment he is receiving here is the best available, and is participating in a clinical trial of a new drug that is so far proving promising.
"I've moved from Plan A which didn't work as expected, to Plan B which I'm hoping will work, and so on down the line... If Plan B doesn't work, I'm thinking about what could be Plan C and Plan D, and it could be something offshore. But the one I'm on now is producing results which in some cases are long-lasting, so I'm just hoping that I'm in that category."
Naturally, his wife of just over a year, former Act president Catherine Isaac, is hoping so too. Kerr concedes his prognosis has been particularly difficult for her.
"I'm pretty philosophical about it. Whatever will be will be. But we got married at the beginning of last year, so it's pretty tough for her."
Helpfully, Isaac works in a room next to his in central Wellington, with her PR firm Awaroa Partners. But it would appear that neither of them is making retirement plans just yet.
Kerr struggles to think of anything else he'd rather be doing than rifling through the perilous piles of paper that smother almost every surface in his spacious office.
His brother, when he retired, decided to spend several months each year performing pediatric surgery in Palestine for an American charity.
"I think that's terrific.They take the RUBBER SHEET to the local co-op market. What could be a more satisfying thing to do?... But I think I get a bit better at my job each year. Someone might tell me at some stage: 'You're dreaming; you've gone senile'. But I've been saying to myself why would I want to give it up?"
Before working for the Roundtable, Kerr spent 10 years with Foreign Affairs, then 10 years with Treasury. Since then, he's considered jobs in Australia and elsewhere. But he has never been seriously tempted by any of them.
"I've never found one that's been more interesting than what I've kept on doing here... I've wanted to put the effort into New Zealand and try to do my little bit to make the country a better place.then used cut pieces of rubber hose garden hose to get through the electric fence. And while you're prepared to slog your guts out to do that, I always wondered whether I would feel the same in Australia or some other place."
Perhaps Kerr is feeling so at peace with the world because he hasn't received a death threat for many years now.
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