An exchange of emails and telephone calls confirm lesson plans made can now be actioned…
Hallelujah! – I have work…
Schools have gone back but my classes in community houses don’t commence until this week, and as is the nature of being casual, contract, part-time, temporary… confirmation usually doesn’t happen until enrolments are confirmed, and that can be very last moment.
(If lucky, sometimes managers decide to run a class in the hope people will turn up on the starting day.)
An email midweek from one employer confirmed enrolments in tomorrow’s class are enough – the class will run. A telephone call Friday confirmed the other classes have numbers too.
Returning to work, after the long summer break without an income is definitely a cause for celebration – and that good old-fashioned, ‘Hallelujah.’
I’m not alone working in jobs reliant on funding and nearly everybody is at the mercy of the vagaries of the economy. Most workers are hostage to an employer whether it be in the public or private sector. And the courageous few who establish a business spend a lot of time worrying too.
It is wonderful to be told you have paid work – the certainty helps with budgeting!
In the adult education field, many teachers are employed on short-term contracts or a casual basis. Sadly, this even happens within the school system nowadays.
Uncertainty, flexibility, adaptability – the modern workers buzz words. The only guarantee is there are no guarantees.
Who Are My Students? Uncertainty and Anticipation
Some students are returning and I wonder what they have written over the holidays and if their writing projects and aims have changed. (Or have they shared my struggle to write!)
I’m curious about the new students. Always, the stirrings of excitement a motivation to remember and act upon the Girl Guide Motto, “Be Prepared.”
Despite teaching for 20 years I love the research of planning lessons. Seeking new ideas, books, craft information, a variety of sources, prompts and challenges to ensure we move out of comfort zones.
Did Anyone Put My End-of-Year Present To Work?
When classes ended for the summer holidays, and because it coincides with Christmas there is often an exchange of presents or an expectation to give a gift.
Gift giving often problematic, if you are someone like me who likes to give a book. Writers are usually avid readers and the chances of giving a book the recipient already has is high.
Print books can be expensive, especially new releases. I decided to promote writing and wrapped up a pocket notebook and pen for each student.
I asked them to keep the notebook handy and every day write down ideas for stories or poems: observations that strike them as interesting, perhaps overheard dialogue, a memorable smell, unusual sound, evocative texture or taste – all the happenings and minute details that are important to engage with readers.
Paying it Forward
I first started using a pocket notebook over 30 years ago after hearing Australian writer, playwright and poet, Dorothy Hewett interviewed on the ABC. She talked about having a notebook and pen in her apron pocket and mentioned some of the stories that grew from her scribbled thoughts.
I’m still old school and usually write by hand before recording onto the computer. Adding words, rewriting, subsequent drafts, plus editing, are all done on the computer, but that initial writing by hand allows me to be more in tune with thoughts, whether brainstorming, a stream of consciousness, or what I call ‘the splurge’ in class, or just musing.
The downside of course is finding it difficult to decipher my writing if I’ve scribbled while on public transport or in the middle of the night (I keep a notebook and pen by the bed) or under the influence of a strong emotion like anger or grief with my mind in overdrive and the hand finding it difficult to keep up.
I’m sure observers the other day thought I was mad as I paused in the middle of Main Street to jot in my notebook. (Maybe I’ll appear in another writer’s notebook as an eccentric old woman.) But I had to note a couple of young girls giggling as they crossed the road arm in arm, one wearing a t-shirt that said, “Mermaids don’t do homework”.
Uncover or Discover Stories to Record
It’s easy to become stuck in a routine or feel life is ‘same old, same old’, to rely on books, television, movies, and various social media platforms for entertainment, experience, and to extend imagination.
There is an endless amount of stories out there but it’s easy to convince yourself ‘nothing is new under the sun’ and all the original stories have been written by someone more capable or talented.
Writing is hard work, it takes effort – 5% inspiration and 95% perspiration – that’s why it helps if you have other writers encouraging, supporting and motivating your pen to move!
I discovered a poem I wrote after an icebreaker session when the writing students interviewed and introducedeach other. I listened (the most important part of any learning process) and made notes to help me remember the students.
The poem takes me back to that class, remembering the students and recalling what they wrote. It may be rhyming doggerel but it also a record of part of my life.
Poetry is great for recording snapshots of life.
Writing Class at Mordialloc Neighbourhood House 2005
Mairi Neil
WW2 was announced on the airwaves
and Heather’s family gathered round
a ten-year-old girl confused
until the air raid sirens sound.
Later, the adult Heather
chose Nursing as a career
a passion shared by Angela
who cared for children three.
Angela’s knowledge of medicine
has stood her in good stead
because she daily battles MS
gallantly facing whatever’s ahead
She’s had environmental change
to Melbourne from the Apple Isle
like Margaret Birch’s Moorabbin memory
gumboots a necessity, not style.
Margaret watched Moorabbin grow
from soldier settlements to busy metropolis
South Road’s dirt track transformed
into a modern traffic terminus.
To escape car fumes and pollution
visit Margaret Birkenhead’s home
meditate in her Edithvale garden
a splendid oasis of beauty to roam.
Sixty years of devotion and giving
mirrored by Marjorie’s journey
a shared vision of contentment
family values central to living.
These two ladies share a thirst for
knowledge and highly value education
Marjorie returned to study at sixty-five
gaining a BA and a new vocation.
She now writes family history,
children’s stories, and rhymed verse,
which strikes a chord with Phillip
whose words forever impress.
He produces poems that inspire,
they also enlighten and amuse
a talent shared by Jeanette
who adores theatre and to choose
serenity listening to classical music
whether operatic or dance
and loves to go to the cinema
whenever she has a chance.
With her beautiful English skin
rosy-cheeked regardless of fashion
She’s travelled from Tibet to Marrakesh
and cites bushwalking as a passion.
Jeannette’s love of reading and writing
shared by Fay, their meeting revealed
how grief’s strain on life’s journey
has oft times their sadness sealed.
These two widows like many others
have made a silent promise
they’ll live life to the fullest
and never a writing class miss!
Ceinwen was born in Wales
and sings as sweet as a bird
she wanted to go on stage
but her Mother said, ‘how absurd!’
Until WW2 intervened and
Ceinwen found the freedom she craved
in the RAF’s Entertainment Unit
performing dreams were saved.
Toula grew up fearful of change
with a Greek father ultra strict
friendless and often oppressed
her husband was father’s pick!
Toula escaped through books,
photography, and painting too
she wants to write her story
migrant women’s voices too few.
Amelia is an artist producing poetic
landscapes with her paintbrush
she meditates every morning
a daily routine she’ll never rush,
each moment must be enjoyed
since meeting the Dalai Lama
his wise words keeping her buoyed.
Whereas Doreen is more practical
divorced for over thirty years
and as a single parent of four
she conquered many fears.
Her Mazda 121 is special
it’s twenty-seven years old
driving gives her pleasure
and walking leaves her cold.
Doreen’s a voracious reader
writing stories that entertain
with characters and dialogue
refreshing as spring rain.
Variety is the spice of life
a well-worn cliche we know
but this group of writing students
have plenty of seeds to sow.
Each Monday promises to delight –
as their pens move across the page
characters and plots coming alive
as if on a Shakespearean stage
A friend recently commented, ‘Wow, what richness in that class of skills and life experience. I bet they wrote some great stuff!’
They did indeed!
Her observations right – I’ve been privileged to meet some truly inspirational people with powerful stories told well. The writers who have peopled my classes over the years did produce amazing poems and prose.
Unfortunately, some of the Class of 2005 are no longer here, others attended a short time, but two of the writers are still coming to classes, honing their craft and enjoying their passion for words.
Not so long ago I was celebrating the lack of timetables and freedom from routine as the summer holidays commenced… but I’ll accept the persona of the female stereotype and change my mind.
Now, I look forward to the beginning of the term and the predictability of the working week to re-establish regular writing practice and share the journey with old friends and new students.
There are lots of Icebreaker Exercises available on the Internet. Questions and games for almost every situation you can imagine – I think I’ve tried them all over the fifteen plus years I’ve been teaching. How do you come up with something original and relevant?
Like all good writing teachers, (indeed writers), I donned a pirate hat and cobbled together ten questions from a day of research. Writers must be good listeners and observers. They must know themselves and others so they can create believable characters.
From a lesson by Annie Dillard, the great writer of literary nonfiction, Alexander Chee, her student learnt:
You need to turn that attention to yourself. Research yourself… what do you think you can write that you couldn’t write before?… How do I use it in fiction?… I would start next, for me, with what feels real out of what I want to invent. Using your life in fiction doesn’t have to mean only replicating it. That I call the mistake of verisimilitude…
The students could use whatever they gleaned (and it may or may not have been ‘the truth’) to write a mini-bio, a short story, a poem, a newspaper report, magazine column – any piece of writing, any format or genre, from the interviewee and share with the class and at home perhaps write their own bio, or produce another piece of writing triggered by work in class.
Ten Questions
If you could live in any sitcom on TV past or present, which one would it be? Why? What character would you be?
What do you look for in a friend?
Describe the best dessert you have ever had? When was the last time you ate it?
It’s Saturday morning. What’s the first thing you do when you wake up? Is there a routine to this day?
If you were to get a tattoo, what would it say or what would the graphic be? And where would you put it on your body?
Why do you live where you do? How long have you lived there?
If you could have been told one thing that you weren’t told when you were a teenager, what would you like to have heard? Why?
If you were to write a book what would it be about? Do you have a title?
If you could be any animal in the world for 24 hours, which animal would you be? Why?
Name your three favourite smells, why are they your favourite and what is it they evoke, or what memories do they trigger?
Experiment with the information you have learned – after you have written a factual piece is there anything to trigger your imagination that you could turn into a fictional story?
1. What sitcom character would I be?
Years ago on the ABC, there was a BBC comedy The Good Life. A couple decided to live off the grid and make their suburban house and garden “green” and environmentally sustainable. The good life equating with the simple life.
The blurb says:
A milestone birthday convinces Tom Good to make a change. He talks his wife, Barbara, into giving up the so-called rat race and joining him in a life of simplicity and self-sufficiency. They convert their suburban home into a farm, planting crops in the back garden and bringing in pigs and chickens (including a rooster they name Lenin). The new use of their property comes as something of a shock to their very proper neighbours, Margo and Jerry Leadbetter. A social climber of the first order, Margo can’t bear having chickens roaming the back garden. She’ll have to put up with it, though, since Tom, despite his desire for self-sufficiency, can’t bring himself to kill the chickens.
It aired on TV from 1975-1977
Tom (Richard Briers) turned 40 and in a midlife crisis gave up his job as a designer of the plastic toys that came free with breakfast cereal. (This was really big in the 60s and 70s and as one of six children I can remember having to take turns and arguing over the toys! I guess they were the precursors to the plastic junk given away with McDonalds’ Happy Meals!)
His wife, Barbara (Felicity Kendal), goes along with his aim for sustainable living – their house is paid for and one could say the risks in a change of lifestyle were minimal. However, the conflict and comedy occur when Barbara and Tom continual challenge their friends and neighbours Margo (Penelope Keith) and Jerry (Paul Eddington) and confront their wasteful ways while, as it happens, they often have to rely on them for help!
The self-sufficient lifestyle involves lawns becoming allotments for food not flowers, chickens, and pigs (Pinky and Perky), a goat, and a rooster named Lenin. They generate their own electricity using the animal waste byproduct methane, attempt making their own clothes, have success with homemade wine, and barter and sell produce to bypass and ignore capitalism’s monetary system!
Needless to say, many of the episodes are hilarious.
Both couples are childless and the political events of the 1970s are used as an effective backdrop because as Bob Dylan warned ‘the times they are a’changing’.
I admired what ‘Tom and Barbara’ tried to do; the show awakened in me, a real interest in the environment and sustainable living in suburbia.
Barbara described as –
… a normal, middle-class housewife when the series begins. While she sometimes wilts under Tom’s determined and dominant nature, her sharp tongue puts her on an equal footing. She is the heart of the enterprise, while Tom’s engineering brain designs and builds what they need. She yearns for luxuries but her own determination to succeed, with Tom’s single-minded persuasion, keeps her going.
She was feminine but feisty, practical and independent, compassionate and kind, a loyal friend and well-read and witty, but most of all she had a great sense of humour. What’s not to like?
In many ways, The Good Life was prescient, if not revolutionary – over the years I’ve embraced the mantra reduce, reuse and recycle. I helped make mud bricks for my brother’s Mt Evelyn house, I grow veggies, have solar panels and a water tank. I believe in limiting my footprint on the earth – thank you to Barbara, my inspiration!
2. What do I look for in a friend?
Many qualities such as – loyalty, honesty, trustworthiness, understanding, compassion, reliability, discretion, support, a good listener, a sense of fun and Monty Pythonesque sense of humour.
I have been and still am blessed with dear friends – special people I love dearly.
3. What is my favourite dessert and when was the last time I ate it?
My taste in food has changed over the years although my penchant for sweets probably hasn’t. Like most women, I’ll own up to being a chocoholic – hormones the excuse!
My most recent encounter of dining out was at Mordy HQ and always, if Sticky Date Pudding is on the Seniors Menu, it gets my vote. This dessert, all the more delicious because I never make it at home. The same goes for my second choice – cheesecake – there’s something yummy about cooked cheesecake.
When I reflect, there are two instances when dessert has stood out and in both cases, the delights were one-off occasions so memorable they’re worth writing about.
On our first cruise as a family, we went to the South Pacific on P&O’s Fair Princess in 1997. One special evening, the dining crew marched in bearing Bombe Alaska. The lights were dimmed, the line of waiters glowed. A magnificent line of red and gold-speckled waistcoats on mainly Indonesian and Filipino waiters, their white shirt sleeves stark on stretched arms holding trays aflame.
The delicious dessert of meringue, fluffy sponge and lemon sorbet folded through vanilla ice-cream, studded with juicy raspberries is doused in brandy and set alight just before serving!
A tasty spectacle indeed. Checking the available recipes on the webit seems various fruits and other ingredients and methods can be substituted but they all agree the ‘bonfire’ at the end is what makes it great!
The other dessert that lives in memory is a meal in London, in a French restaurant, in 1973. My girlfriend, Nobuko worked as a Japanese Air Stewardess for British Airways and we caught up in London. The two pilots on her flight took us out to dinner and the waiter cooked the Crêpes Suzette in front of us at our table. Again this became a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle entailing flames as Grand Marnier and cognac were heated to lift the basic pancake recipe into the realms of the sublime!!
4. Saturday mornings, I usually have no timetable to obey.
No classes to teach, no set time to be anywhere. Luxury. A relaxing breakfast which may extend into a pyjama day if I don’t have to be anywhere or no visitors are expected. In the days when The Agenewspaper was delivered, I would have done the crossword but now I might spend time online, check Facebook or maybe curl up in a chair and read, wander the garden, sit at the computer and write. Occasionally, I may even do housework!
5. If I ever got a tattoo…
A highly unlikely event, but I’d have a tiny butterfly above my right breast. This would represent transformation because I’ve had to rethink body image since a mastectomy and I must admit I miss my cleavage.
6. I’ve lived in Mordialloc since 1984
I live in the first, and only house, I’ve ever owned. John and I chose Mordialloc because we both loved the sea. It was easy to fall in love with 21 Albert Street – an old Edwardian weatherboard with character features, including leadlights at the front door.
Crossing the threshold for the first time, I sensed its history but also a benign and calming spirit living within the walls. It became a much-loved home – the girls know no other and in 2002, John died here, in his own bed.
So many precious memories that I’ll leave behind when I too am ‘carried out in a box’.
Albert Street 1984
7. What knowledge or advice would I have liked to hear as a teenager?
Born into a Scottish Presbyterian family in the 1950s with a strong Protestant work ethic and not yet influenced by the Women’s Liberation Movement, I wish I’d heard that thinking of yourself does not necessarily mean you are selfish.
Guilt, strict sexual mores, and the Protestant work ethic all influences hard to shake! Add the workload expected of mothers when I got married and still out-dated ideas of ‘good wives’ sacrifice and personal denial almost to martyrdom status seemed built into the DNA!
8. If I write a book about myself…
I’d build on the thousands of words I have already written about my journey to recover from breast cancer. I walked part of the Larapinta Trail not long after I finished chemotherapy to prove to myself life may be different but I still had physical health and strength. It will be called I Feel the Wind in my Hair…
9. If I could be any animal for 24 hours
I’d swap places with Aurora,the family dog. She is loved unconditionally, is totally spoiled with absolutely no responsibilities – nearing thirteen years of age she sometimes forgets to bark fiercely at passersby…
… and she takes the giant part of the Queen-sized bed.
10. My three favourite smells
Favourites hard to pick because there are many evocative smells I love. However, fresh bread baking sets my olfactory glands working overtime (as does roasting meat) because it reminds me of Mum in the kitchen baking her soda bread, pancakes, scones, Sunday dinner. Yum!
Then there’s the smell of freshly laundered sheets. Whether it is the lemon-scented washing powder and clothes conditioner or just the wonderful fresh air impregnated in cotton, the experience of slipping between fresh sheets absolute heaven.
The other smell is unmistakeable eucalyptus – a pungent reminder of the native trees in my garden and also Vicks Vaporub. The medicinal ointment a reminder of the times during childhood when I’ve been nurtured because of a cold, or when I nursed my daughters.
Another vivid memory is touring Angel Island, a former immigration detention centre and now a state park in San Francisco Bay. Careering around the island on a scenic train and smelling the remnants of a eucalyptus forest planted by an Australian made me homesick!
Variety Is the Spice of Life
The students interviewed and then introduced each other with sitcom characters ranging from Downtown Abbey’s feminist Isobel and traditionalist Maggie, naughty Brooke in Bold & The Beautiful, Hot Lips Houlihan in MASH, Seinfeld, a reporter or news reader on a current affair show, Julie from Happy Days, the Goldbergs’ neighbour who plays too loud music, the narrator of Wonder Years, Rachel in Friends and Elana in The Vampire Diaries.
Everyone on the same page when it came to qualities expected from friends: loyalty, sense of humour, discretion, non-judgemental, has empathy, trustworthy, good listener, caring, reliable, warm and loving, shows sincerity, respect, has similar interests, reliable and adventurous.
The favourite desserts revealed sweet tooths: plenty of chocoholics, especially dark chocolate, gooey brownies but also date scones. A strong desire for English Trifle with ‘all the trimmings’ (a missed gift from a friend sadly deceased), homemade apple pie and cream, fresh tropical fruit and cream, chocolate mousse, a chocolate-flavoured sundae from ‘Maccas’, homemade pavlova piled high with fruit and cream, and chocolate fondue.
Most people indulged their dessert desires recently because of Christmas but one unlucky writer is now lactose intolerant so fondues no more!
Cats and dogs top the list for animals to be: students wanted to see the world from a dog’s perspective for 24 hours and understand how they interpret human emotions and moods, being a cat would be interesting, or a lion and be leader of the pack, perhaps having the fecundity of a rabbit; a tiny dog is loved and spoiled, dogs have fun, cats get to explore places and are well fed, they’re astute and can work out humans. Someone wanted to be a lioness because they are courageous, proud, and protective.
The topics chosen to write about varied: a book to help young people understand mental illness, My Melbourne – a book about Aussie life from the 1930s onwards, an autobiography called A Life of Changes, a memoir, family history, autobiography, So She Did, detective stories for children including a clever, funny dog, an autobiography with lots of pop culture references Big Brother in the Suburbs – aka 1984, book of travel experiences, Lauren’s Storybook, Eli’s Story…
People lived in a variety of settings:family homes, with parents, daughters, alone, near public transport, near the sea, in retirement villages, some were long term residents, others recent arrivals. There were houses, apartments and units, gardens and nearby parks or foreshore, ordinary views or scenic views.
The exercise was a great ice-breaker and getting to know you exercise.
It encouraged observation, listening skills, perception, and attention to detail. At home, there will be plenty of reflection, perhaps research, and maybe the start of longer stories, a poem or novel and/or character sketches.
Information on real life people has been shared, realistic settings and a reminder to include the senses, particularly the sense of smell when writing.
The sense of smell a powerful memory booster and the range of evocative smells included: gourmet cheese and chocolate, flowers like rosemary, scented candles, Estee Lauder perfume, the smell of husband/lover, the rose Black Beauty, food cooking, roast meat especially rabbit, which was eaten a lot after the war, Paco Rabanne aftershave, Chanel Number 5, yellow roses, lavender, Daphne, roast chicken, sausages cooking, Dad’s deodorant, new packaging when stuff ordered from E-Bay, garlic in food, paprika, lavender oil, boyfriend’s aftershave, family dog, jasmine scented candle…
I’m looking forward to listening to the homework – these are exercises anyone can do, you don’t need a partner – interview yourself!
Please feel free to share anything you’re inspired to write because as Annie Dillard’s student noted –
You know the least about your life precisely because, for living in it, you might barely notice it.
Remember we are pirates, so let’s share the treasures unearthed…
A new term, a new student, and returnees – the first day of the Writing for Pleasure Class at Mordialloc pure joy!
The above sign (doctored to suit the blog) necessary because the building works next door to the House still evident, and in fact there doesn’t seem much progress since before the holidays – although I’m sure there will be people more knowledgeable than me who will tell me that digging a big hole takes time.
The redevelopment of the block for apartments will take time – a good metaphor for many writing projects. A novel will take more time to write than a short story, an autobiography will be longer than a memoir – and whatever the writing project it will be better if you include learning the craft of writing techniques and understanding genres and your audience.
The seeming lack of progress could also be a metaphor for my personal enthusiasm for writing hitting the doldrums.
Passion, Purpose and Persistence.
This is what we learn and practise in class. And what we need to make sure we actually write!
We support and encourage each other. Writing is perhaps the loneliest of all professions. Attending a class or workshopping with other writers who understand the desire and need to write, helps keep you motivated and focused.
Becoming a writer is a choice that can be satisfying, rewarding, and fulfil your needs or let you plummet the depths of despair, suffer chronic indecision, and crush your self-esteem!
It is good to be around people who care and who understand the joys – and the dread – “what if people won’t like what I write or won’t read it?”
Writing takes courage.
I had a long list of what I was going to achieve during the holidays – especially regarding writing projects.
However, the summer was hot and I seemed to be constantly clearing out accumulated clutter (who said we were going to be a paperless society?).
I caught up with friends and family, but mercurial Melbourne’s climate gave the garden a growth spurt unusual for this time of year which translated into extra weeding and tree branch trimming.
I spent hours researching and planning my big holiday next term on the Trans-Siberian Railway and visiting the UK; I read some delightful books, watched movies, made my daughter some clothes and became obsessed and saddened by the rise of Trump and the decline in compassion for others less fortunate …
In other words, I found any excuse not to keep up that very important mantra I recite to my students – write every day!
I even contemplated throwing in the towel and never writing anything again because nothing I have written seemed substantial.
I wasn’t making any headway with writing projects and I struggled to remain positive about what I wanted to write. Who was my audience? Why would anyone read my short story, poem, novel, memoir?
Even as I began to write and get published, I hesitated to call myself a writer. There always seemed to be yet another goal to achieve before I could do so.
Real writers wrote novels; I wrote reviews of novels. Real writers published work in magazines you held in your hand; I published pieces online. Real writers made a living as a writer; I had a day job. Whatever I did, it was never enough, in my eyes. I had the arrogance to think that readers would care about what I had to say—the audacity to put fingers to keyboard in the first place—but not enough to say “I’m a writer.” That’s what some might call irony.
Everyone has bouts of impostor syndrome. But in a field that demands attention to meaning and nuance, using the word “writer” can be especially fraught—particularly for those of us who toil away without a bestseller or a byline or an agent. Of all the words I’ve written, “writer” has given me the most trouble.
JESSICA ALLEN
I realised I need to return to work and be in the company of others who care about words.
I’m happy to cultivate the all-important habit of writing every day.
Over the holidays, I discovered that more free time didn’t automatically mean I used that time to write. In fact, I did everything but write, was easily distracted by social media among other things, and in a perverse way welcomed the distractions, yet I’ve never been a procrastinator!
I was experiencing a massive crisis of confidence.
Rummaging through old notebooks and files, I found poems written years ago and snatches of stories. Many written before I started teaching and before I had anything of note published. Pieces I’d written when all I wanted to do was write and scribbled incessantly wherever I went.
A Meditative Walk – January 1, 1995
Mairi Neil
I hurry from the house upset
leaving the sibling rivalry,
the squabbling over toys –
the cross words…
Relaxed in bed, John solves
the crossword in The Age
he is on holiday–
do mothers holiday?
Too late for church services
I march towards the foreshore
and despite a recalcitrant summer
the beach park busy as a carnival
with children amusing themselves,
adults reminiscing the old year
perhaps airing hopes for the new.
Aware of the gloomy grey sky,
I stride towards the beckoning water
to meet a sea matching my mood –
tempestuous waves spewing shells,
seaweed, and driftwood…
white rollers leapfrogging ashore with
gulped plastic flotsam before
carrying our society’s junk seawards.
Humanity the beast amidst wild beauty…
I ponder poisoned fish
trudge amid food wrappers, bottles, cans,
plastic bags skittering along the sand,
to stink, smother, and spoil…
a discarded thong and wind-cheater
evidence of last night’s revellers
welcoming a new year with old habits.
The environment taken for granted
as the sea whispers and whooshes
the waves crashing to a breathless pause
before the wind reinvigorates the tide
edging ashore,
racing the shadow
of a cloud cauldron on the horizon,
a witches brew conjuring
a change for unpredictable Melbourne.
The wind lessens, my tread lightens,
the threatened storm dissipates
along with resentment and anger–
the sea is rolling, not turbulent
transformed clouds wisps of steam
the sun’s warmth soothing
the wind a refreshing breeze
and shells crunch underfoot.
A glistening treasure trove –
shells for Anne, some for Mary Jane
pockets bulging I hurry home
greeting fellow fossickers with a smile
a lone jogger pounds the sand,
an elderly couple strolls arm in arm,
an excited family cradles surfboards
braving the water with wetsuits and grins
the community enjoying the holiday.
A tantalising smell of sizzling sausages
drifts from the park as families picnic…
tiredness and tetchiness gone
I’m hungry to share my happiness
find the girls repentant and worried
John apologetic and dressed
keen to please and make amends–
we return to walk along the beach.
Shifting sands adapting to change
the children build a sandcastle
relaxing we watch the tide
mesmerised by the sea’s song
cricket and news on the radio ignored
the girls’ laughter infectious
echoing our childhood trips to the seaside
can contentment be personified?
I write down thoughts, memories, images…
a new year unfolds.
I need to rediscover that joy and spontaneity.
I’m looking forward to getting back into the swing of work – privileged to be doing something I love. Maybe my body and brain just needed a rest – I certainly felt exhausted at the end of the year.
If you want to be inspired and motivated, learn to structure sentences for different audiences, satisfy a creative urge to make up stories, or just record your life in a poetic way – join me at Mordialloc,Longbeach Place or Bentleigh– or head down to wherever you can find writing classes in your neighbourhood.
On Monday, January 30th, my first writing class for the year commences at Mordialloc. My association with this neighbourhood house spans over two decades, first as a volunteer, and then as a paid worker.
Volunteering is not an unusual path to follow to find gainful employment, especially in the arts. If you want to work in an area, seeking activities and others who share that desire is a great starting point.
Most people who know me understand how I feel when it comes to writing and how much I enjoy my classes – I spend most of the holidays researching and gathering the latest ideas and developments in writing and publishing, as well as doing at least one refresher course to hone my craft. (There are many online courses and Udemy is a good place to start and with their $15.00 sale, excellent value.)
I’m happy to promote words, literacy, education, and of course creative writing and reading quality fiction and non-fiction! (For books to read look no further than Lisa Hill’s blog!)
And the practice apparently has proven health benefits!
However, establishing courses in neighbourhood houses was a steep learning curve for me. The challenge, for the most part, has been fun as starting fresh and making your own blueprint or career path, can reveal hidden strengths and certainly builds resilience. The element of tension and fear attached to any course relying on some form of government funding and the incentive to remain relevant and improve kept me on my toes.
I’ll always be grateful for the guidance of Bruce Lundgren, who taught at Sandybeachfor many years. Bruce invited me to apply for a job teaching Picture Storybook Writing for Younger Readers, a unit in the Professional Writing & Editing Diploma. I started in 2002, but within a few weeks, after a cancer diagnosis, Bruce asked me to take over his Accredited Writing classes.
The anthology, Good Morning Writers, a collection of tributes to Bruce, by those who worked with him, and from many of his students was published in 2003 with a Foreword by close friend and tutor, Libby Strain:
The phrase “Good morning writers” is resonant with meaning and memories for many of the writers who contributed to this anthology. It was Bruce Lundgren’s usual weekly welcome to the creative writing classes he taught for many years at Sandybeach. The phrase conferred a status and dignity on each of them and on their endeavours. It served to create a sense of fellowship and shared purpose…
Bruce was an inspirational teacher and a caring and supportive friend. He touched many lives in very positive ways.
I contributed a personal reflection to the book, revealing that Bruce’s initial confidence in my ability and job offer was down to mistaken identity!
Fate, Lady Luck, Serendipity… life can be surprising.
Six Degrees of Separation – 2003
I first heard of Bruce, when I founded the Mordialloc Writers’ Group with Noelle Franklyn in 1995 and she brought along her friend, Shirley Randall. Both of these writers had been students at Sandybeach. They praised Bruce’s teaching, his writing talents, but most of all his encouraging attitude and generosity of spirit…
Over the years, I continually met people who talked about Bruce with similar warmth and admiration. When I was welcomed at the door by the man himself at an Author’s Voice evening, I felt I already knew this polite, gentle gentleman with the ready smile.
In 2001, another ex-student of Bruce’s, and a current member of Mordialloc Writers’ Group, self-published. Bruce launched the book and I was MC for the afternoon. After the launch, Bruce announced that he was happy to meet me at last because he had heard a lot about me. I expressed surprise and suggested that it was me who was glad of the opportunity to chat with him and queried that I was well-known. In the course of our conversation, we discovered that Bruce had mistaken me for another Mairi Neil, assuming her writing credentials and mine were one and the same.
Recovering from mutual embarrassment, Bruce then encouraged me to apply to teach at Sandybeach suggesting I post my resume. He knew they were expanding the writing courses and wanted me on board…
I recall the day Bruce came to my home to hand over his Accredited Writing class details and some of the material he used. Two battered, bulging manila folders represented a lifeline that helped me tremendously, to swim (just) rather than sink amidst erudite and eloquent students, used to an even more erudite, eloquent Bruce…
The day he came to my home, I witnessed his valiant struggle at close quarters. When he left, I watched his retreating back and was overcome by an immense wave of sadness. My husband was dying, yet he too felt that Bruce’s death was imminent. Ironically, Bruce recovered enough of his health to experience several months of quality living (and finish his second poetry book) whereas John’s rapid decline led to him dying before Bruce.
And then Bruce’s health deteriorated. I struggled with my grief and to cope with teaching. Despite his own ill health, Bruce demonstrated remarkable compassion, ringing me or leaving encouraging notes in my pigeonhole – supportive, caring gestures I appreciated.
I started teaching at Sandybeach because of Bruce. I finished the 2002 teaching year because of Bruce, and I remain at Sandybeach because of Bruce’s legacy. I too have a passion for creative writing and want to nurture that passion in others.
The final coincidence of Bruce’s life intertwining with mine happened shortly after his death. I was on a bus returning to Mordialloc from Southland Shopping Centre and met Jackie McInroy, a teacher at Mordialloc Primary School who taught my daughter Mary Jane. Jackie had often invited me to her classes to run writing workshops and encouraged creative writing from her pupils. She informed me that Bruce taught at Mordialloc Primary School and was her mentor when she started teaching there over twenty years ago.
Life is indeed amazing – I too ponder “the wonder and connectedness of all life“** and know the world is a better place because Bruce Lundgren lived.
** from Chagall Fading, Starling Seasons, Bruce Lundgren.
Sandybeach To Mordialloc
A newbie teacher at Sandybeach, I was asked to also start paid classes at Mordialloc. And being one of the longest serving (if not the longest) at Mordialloc, I’m looking forward to classes this year producing memorable writing, whether fiction or non-fiction. With writing prompts including plot, characters, setting, dialogue and themes, I know the students will surpass themselves.
The thought of producing some polished pieces of my own is exciting too!
Students motivate me as much as I motivate them. The 20-30 minutes when we ‘splurge write’ precious writing time.
We’ll craft short stories and poems, record family anecdotes, reflect and write a memoir or vignette.
We’ll discover poetry is an expression of the heart and soul and can be packaged in many different ways: song lyrics, free verse, form poetry, rhymes and prose.
I look at the names of the writers and read their contributions and it’s as if they are whispering in my ear. Many became friends outside class, and of the class of 2002, Barbara still comes to Mordialloc on a Monday morning; Toula and Denise attend my class at Chelsea!
Doreen remained a student until her death last year and Jeanette still sends me her gorgeous haiku in cards for my birthday and Christmas.
In 2005, Monday Class members were: Angela, Heather, two Margarets with surnames beginning with B so they were nicknamed B1 and B2 after Playschool’s Bananas in Pyjamas! Phillip and Marjorie also attended, plus Fay, Jeanette, Toula and Kay, Amelia and Doreen.
Divided into pairs, the students interviewed and introduced each other:
An Introduction to the Class of ’05
WW2 announced on the airwaves
Heather’s family gathered round
a ten-year-old girl confused
until air raid sirens sound
much later, the adult Heather
chose Nursing as a career
a passion shared by Angela
who cared for children three.
Angela’s knowledge of medicine
has stood her in good stead
because she daily battles MS
gallantly facing whatever’s ahead
She’s experienced a change in lifestyle
coming to Melbourne from the Apple Isle
like Margaret Birch’s memory of Moorabbin
when gumboots were a necessity, not style
Margaret has watched that city grow
soldier settlements to a busy metropolis
South Road’s dirt track transformed
into a modern traffic terminus.
To escape car fumes and city pollution
visit Margaret Birkenhead’s home
enjoy her beautiful Edithvale garden
a splendid oasis of love to roam
sixty years of devotion begs recognition
spanning the years Marjorie has lived
with similar family values and vision
these two ladies share a thirst for
knowledge as they praise education
Marjorie returned to study at sixty-five
Gained a BA and a new vocation.
She now writes family history,
children’s stories and rhymed verse
this strikes a chord with Phillip
whose words always aim to impress
he produces poems that inspire,
they also enlighten and amuse
a talent shared by Jeanette
who loves theatre and to choose
serenity listening to music
whether operatic or dance
she loves to go to the cinema
whenever there’s a chance
and with beautiful English skin
rosy-cheeks regardless of fashion
she’s travelled from Tibet to Marrakesh
citing bushwalking as a passion
Jeannette’s love of reading and writing
shared by Fay, a first meeting reveals
and grief’s strain on life’s journey
has oft times their sadness sealed
these two widows, like many others
have made a silent promise
they’ll live life to the fullest
and never an opportunity miss!
Kay was born in Wales
and sings as sweet as a bird
she wanted to go on stage
but her Mother said that’s absurd
until WW2 intervened and
Kay found the freedom she craved
in the airforce entertainment unit
performance dreams were saved.
Toula grew up fearful of change
her Greek father ultra strict
often friendless and oppressed
husband George was father’s pick!
Toula escaped through books,
photography and painting too
she wants to write her story
migrant voices being so few.
Amelia is an artist producing poetic
landscapes with her paintbrush
she meditates every morning
with a routine, she’ll never rush
each moment must be enjoyed
since meeting the Dalai Llama
his wise words keep her buoyed.
Whereas Doreen is more practical
divorced for over 30 years
and as a single parent
she conquered many fears
her Mazda 121 is special
it’s twenty-seven years old
driving gives her pleasure
walking leaves her cold.
Doreen is a voracious reader
and her stories entertain
with characters and dialogue
refreshing as spring rain.
Variety is the spice of life
this well-worn cliche we know
and this group of interesting writers
has plenty of seeds to sow
each Monday promises to delight
as their pens move across the page
characters and plots coming alive
as if on a Shakespearean stage.
2017 Here We Come
In less than a fortnight, a group of writers will sit around the table to write – I hope 2017 will be another good year!
“The stories we tell ourselves determine what we value and therefore the kind of world we strive to create.”
Yesterday, a milestone in the Monday class, we farewelled Tori Dowd who has been attending for over a decade. Tori is what you would call ‘a personality’ or ‘memorable character’ (we are writers after all!) – and she will be missed.
Tori and me
Tori wrote us a thank you letter plus a card and gave us chocolates. Her mother, Lyn visited with lovely flowers to say thank you and goodbye. Niceties and kindness not everyone remembers and it was truly appreciated.
Lyn wrote:
Thank you to you very special people, Tori’s friends, who have been so inclusive of her at Writing For Pleasure.
To the staff at Mordialloc Neighbourhood House – thank you, one and all. Tori has been welcomed for many years.
With my love and thanks.
Lyn
Ta Ta Tori
Mairi Neil
A sad Monday Class, farewelling Tori
Admin say the beginning was 2006
Tori a fixture from February to December
A decade of individuality in our midst.
Her wheelchair’s special controls
Enabled whizzing around the room
Two favourites were Barb and Kay
Between them Tori could zoom.
Each Monday, she arrived by special taxi
Most days a grin upon her face
Her greeting “a cup of coffee please”
The other students fetched with grace.
Tori’s special loves: her pet dog, Mimi
Watching romance on her bedroom TV
And we’ll remember her sweet tooth
How she looked forward to morning tea!
Chocolate being her favourite food
A love the rest of us also shared
Birthdays celebrated with gusto
Special cakes made because we cared.
But ‘all good things come to an end’
Tori’s future safeguarded by sharing
Mother Lyn organised a move to Sydney
Where brothers will help with caring.
Future Mondays will feel strange
No yellow taxi stopping outside
No smiling drivers in coloured turbans
Strong hands the wheelchair’s guide
No teasing about forgotten homework
No whispered, ‘Mairi what can I write?’
No exclamations to Heather or Barbara
Or squeezing hands with all her might.
The dynamics of Mondays will be different
But with prompting poised pens will move
Poems and stories imagined and shared
Writing class mojo continues to groove!
Memories To Cherish
Each year as we published class anthologies, Tori contributed her writing, her words a wonderful reminder of who she was and her time with us in class. Although Tori could hold a pen, writing took great physical effort.
However, she was an example, not of disability but making the most of abilities.
Her time with us a reminder of our diversity, the richness it adds to daily life, and the fantastic safe spaces provided in community houses where all adult learners are welcomed to ‘write for pleasure and publication’.
Tori has left her address and so we will now be pen friends in the old fashioned way – Australia Post can expect to be busy!
Mondays, the start of the working week for most people and the school or university week for students. If you’ve been lucky to have an exciting or relaxing weekend, perhaps a glimpse of freedom from the shackles of timetables, it can be hard to get motivated to ‘rise and shine’ as my father used to sing.
Not only did Dad sing, but he’d put on a pipe band record at full blast, grab a mop or brush as his baton and transform into a drum master leading his troops, albeit from bedrooms to breakfast table!
Along with my five siblings, I did rise ( not sure about the shine) and we’d follow him down the hallway tousled-haired and pyjama-clad into the kitchen to be greeted by the smell of toast and tea.
Mercifully, the massed pipes and drums of the Sutherland Highlanders, Royal Scots Dragoon Guards, the Cameron Highlanders or any number of records from Dad’s collection would then be silenced.
Mondayitis never tolerated in our household – the ‘Protestant work ethic’ inculcated at an early age. Self-inflicted pain from youthful excess and late nights not an excuse for missing school or work.
Yet Mondayitis is real, like the blues, and if you have a boring or depressing job, or the weather is cold and wet and the bed is warm, or there are a thousand distractions and reasons for staying home – going to the park, meeting up with friends, lying on the beach, curling up with a book… just Life with a capital L – the odd bout of Mondayitis can rejuvenate a jaded spirit.
But it can become a habit. One of my brother’s high school mates actually thought the teachers wouldn’t notice a pattern to his absenteeism!
However, If you are fortunate to be free of permanent work and study commitments, and have a choice as to how you spend your week, joining a club, group or class and having an enjoyable activity to look forward to does help. It is even part of a suggested plan to cure Mondayitis!
As mentioned in other posts, you know the activity I recommend is a creative writing class.
“Writing is an extreme privilege but it’s also a gift. It’s a gift to yourself and it’s a gift of giving a story to someone.”
This term at Mordialloc Neighbourhood we’ve had some fun changing the format. Many of my students have been coming for years to the Writing for Pleasure & Publication classes, which keeps me on my toes. There can be no repeat lessons.
So borrowing cards my daughter made for her Diploma of Art Therapy, we do some flash fiction to start the lesson. An extra writing task added to activate the brain cells.
Imagination, Ideas, Invention … I’m sounding a little like an Aussie politician at election time but three-word slogans aside – I try to make sure each class is as interesting and inspiring as possible.
I’m always looking for new ways to approach writing and encourage the pens to move.
There is a set lesson but choosing a random card and writing for ten minutes on whatever the picture triggers has produced entertaining and touching vignettes and the potential for some great stories.
Dennis chose the Batman card and wrote a witty dialogue between Bruce Wayne aka Batman and a new franchisee in Australia, Dingo Man! Needless to say, there were roars of laughter as he read his piece.
We had emotional memories of family and personal trauma, imaginative mysteries, childhood dreams, poems and essays. A popular card is Shakespeare’s observation that All The World’s A Stage. It prompts interesting reflections.
I chose a card with a short verse and what looks like Jack climbing a beanstalk – perhaps the picture was intended as a metaphor for the words:
After Zen, Pick Up A Pen
Mairi Neil
‘Into the woods to get my wish I don’t care how the time is now…’
What is my wish? I ask my heart
A jet flies overhead, I want to depart.
I want to fly – or is it flee?
To be somewhere else, to be really me.
Perhaps live in a cottage, grow veggies galore
Crimson roses climb to frame the door
The sound of the sea a whisper away
Soft sand or pebble beach, to walk each day.
No Internet to distract, banish TV too
Windows to Mother Nature will do.
Imagination unfiltered, pen unfettered
Past, present, and future, stories checkered.
Flowing words and thoughts, false or true
My mojo needs a seismic shift to renew.
But is there a need for woods, or fleeing by air?
Perhaps wishes come true from … anywhere.
I’ll make the time now – seize the day
Harness the words and what I want to say.
If positive encouragement rings in my ears
Dreams can be enough to banish fears!
I’ll take a notepad and pencil, or pen
Seek other dreamers with a writing yen
To say with words what drives the heart
I’ll join a writing class, no need to depart!
The last verse I added at home -a bit of advertising or perhaps convincing myself yearning can be suppressed! I was putting into words my desire to return to Scotland – a dream I’ve nurtured for a long time.
Another piece of writing to come out of Monday class was in response to events next door to the neighborhood house.
Construction sites a constant in Mordialloc as so many houses are pulled down to be replaced with apartments or townhouses – even when houses have been renovated, as was the case with this house.
Farewell No 459 Main Street, Mordialloc
Mairi Neil
Monday morning
First day of term
A scene of devastation,
Dust swirling in the air
The chomp of a front end loader
Crunching bricks
Smashing tiles
Splintering wood
Demolition next door…
The hum of machines
An unwelcome background noise
As the classroom shakes
With the vibration of diggers
In moments the building flattened
A home – gone
A dream – forgotten
Years of living, loving,
Arguing, playing,
Holidaying, working
Birthing, dying
Reduced to dust motes
Lost in the wind
Continuous clattering, splattering
Crunching, munching
Clanging, banging
Until dump trucks cart away
history…
From the rubble
And mounds of soil
A family of mice
Scurry under the fence
Two ravens circle and swoop
To pick over the carcass
The silence deafening.
Sadly, development is not always in the best interests of the community. This one, in particular, may well lead to the end of my class because those with disabilities struggle to access the house.
Once multiple units are built the few parking spaces in front of the community house will be reduced and those with walkers and walking sticks will not be able to walk the extra distance required.
Already one of my students arrives an hour before class begins to get one of the few disabled parking spots. Now that’s dedication!
Parking always at a premium will be almost non-existent as building works progress, roads are partially blocked, tradesmen park nearby, and more people compete for limited spaces.
On Thursday, along with my friend Barbara Davies, I travelled to San Remo to attend Amelia’s funeral. The journey, by public transport, took 2 hours and 58 minutes: first a train to Frankston, a bus to Cranbourne and then V-line coach to San Remo.
Others attended from further afield: Gippsland, Healesville, and Ballarat. A measure of the lives Amelia touched; her influence and legacy, and the high esteem in which she was held.
Although she has lived for over twenty years in Parkdale, Amelia was born in San Remo and has strong family connections there. Her sons John and Paul, felt it fitting she be buried where she was born and grew up – her life a full circle!
The wake held at Amelia’s childhood home which is now occupied by a niece.
When Barbara and I stepped off the coach directly opposite the little wooden church of St Augustine, I gasped. My eyes immediately drawn to the empty silver-grey hearse across the road. ‘Amelia must be already there,’ I whispered to Barbara.
Each grief reminds you of a previous one and flashes of other funerals and other hearses came to mind. Despite the warmth of a wonderful spring sun I felt chilled.
The deep azure sky mirrored in the blue sea stretching to Phillip Island, promised a day of brilliant sunshine. A day for enjoying the beach not attending a funeral.
As I watched the traffic speed by and cross the bridge I wondered how many gave even a second glance to the little church gleaming white in a new coat of paint, belying its 110 years of weathering the storms from the sea, and the countless upheavals of the hundreds of families in attendance over the century or more, of its service to the township.
Amelia was one of my writing students, first at Sandybeach Centre and latterly Mordialloc Neighbourhood House. For many years she attended Readings By The Bay, the public readings by Mordialloc Writers’ Group, often referred to as ‘The Prom lady’ because Wilson’s Promontory, a place she loved, was the subject of so many of her poems and stories.
Asked to read some of her poetry at the service I, of course, included The Spirit of The Prom.I can recall the day she wrote it in class and the discussion we had about the Aboriginal spirit Loo-Errn .
Spirit Of The Prom
Amelia Auckett 2004
I am the Prom
A sacred place
A place I love
Walking to Lilly Pilly Gully
On Christmas Day
Cicadas a symphony of sound
Piercing our ears
Yellow-tailed black cockatoos
Feasting on banksia seeds
Forest ravens dancing
Crimson rosellas a splash of colour
Mount Oberon, a guardian
Mount Bishop presiding over the Prom
Kangaroos, wallabies, wombats and emus
Ranging free
Rocks singing
Wind bending the trees
Eleven rainbows viewed from Pillar Point
Within the space of an hour
I am the ocean
Its roaring sound
As breakers run up the beach
Then a soft sigh as they sink back to the sea
Oystercatchers scour the seashore
I am the silence
I am one with Loo-errn
The Spirit of the Prom
A kookaburra laughs
The Artist and the Nurse
Amelia was also a prolific artist and belonged to the Mentone-Mordialloc Art Group for several years and even mounted her own art exhibition. Her sons displayed many of her framed works at the church and invited everyone to take one or two pieces as mementoes.
A lovely gift to mourners who will now have a permanent keepsake – I chose a Prom painting but also one from Amelia’s time trekking in Nepal – another period of her life she shared with us in class.
When I went into the Tarkine wilderness, Amelia gave me the backpack she used when travelling ‘I won’t be needing it anymore,’ she said, ‘the Prom’s far enough for me to travel.’
A gift from Amelia when I was going through chemo
Amelia’s son, Paul gave the eulogy and his voice reflected the pride in his mother’s achievements which include nursing, writing, painting, music and filmmaking. Her nursing career took her to Central Australia and Canada, and for 25 years she was the Maternal and Child Health nurse at Frankston, Victoria.
Extract From Amelia’s Memoir
When people look at me they see a Miss Marple type. A woman with wisdom gained over the years and a person with knowledge, a love for, and understanding of people. They are not surprised I decided to be a nurse when ten years old. After all, my mother was the Matron of the Deniliquin Hospital in NSW before she married at thirty-two. My eldest sister Mary was two years into her nursing training at the Austin Hospital, Heidelberg, Victoria. Nursing was in the family.
At the age of sixteen in June 1945, I started a twelve months Cadet Nursing course at the Eye and Ear Hospital, East Melbourne. It was an eventful year. The Americans dropped an Atomic bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima on August 6th and a second bomb on the city of Nagasaki on August 9th. The cities were flattened, thousands of people died.
On August 15th 1945 the war in the Pacific ended when the Japanese surrendered. A large group of nurses, from the Hospital, including me, joined thousands of people in Swanston and Collins streets outside the Town Hall that evening, in joyful celebration. We hugged strangers, and each other, We danced, laughed and cried, feeling a great sense of relief. Shouts of, ‘The war is over!’ ‘Peace at last!’ rang out.
We look at older people and what do we see? Who do we see? When they share their stories, or others share them at milestone celebrations or funerals, it is surprising what historical events they have witnessed, what skills they have learned, and their achievements.
When she left an unhappy marriage, Amelia worked hard as a single mother in a time when divorce and single parenting did not have the understanding or support from society like they have today.
Always breaking new ground, she published a book and DVD on Baby Massage. This has been translated into many languages and is a standard fixture in Maternal and Child Health centres throughout Australia. She also wrote music and produced songs as lullabies and for relaxation. Her sons are proud of their mother’s many talents, achievements and unique gifts.
When I was diagnosed with breast cancer and undergoing chemotherapy, Amelia came once a week and massaged my bald head and shoulders. She meditated with me – a peaceful interlude encouraging calm reflection and relaxation, and to focus on healing.
Claire from Ballarat told me how Amelia mentored her and other infant nurses. Claire helped update the baby massage book for Amelia when Infant Welfare clinics were rebranded. She said the baby massage book was revolutionary and innovative.
I remember using the technique with my daughters who were born in the 80s and how thrilled I was when Amelia joined my writing class in the 90s – although it took me a while to make the connection!
Amelia’s son, John has established a website for people to access Amelia’s work, including his mother reading two poems that he set to music. This recording was played during the service. No shuffling feet or rustling papers disturbed Amelia’s soft rhythmic tones as they filled the room. The Prayer of Thanksgiving followed, accompanied by a whispering sea breeze through the open side door.
Staring at the pine coffin adorned with a gorgeous display of flowers in various shades of purple, Amelia’s favourite colour, it was difficult to comprehend I wouldn’t see her again.
On the way to the cemetery, Amelia’s nephew Sam pointed out various places Amelia mentioned in her poems and talked with affection about her affinity with the Prom and her love of the natural environment.
San Remo cemetery is high on a hill with magnificent views as it overlooks the township and the sea. Prime real estate – the pioneers who chose the spot, chose well!
Amelia is descended from the famous Andersons of San Remoandwas very proud of her connection to Scotland. Their graves are nearby.
On the way to the wake, Sam stopped at Amelia’s favourite beach and as I stood and listened to the lapping of gentle waves I remembered the stories Amelia told of growing up when San Remo was a fishing village, and how calm waters could also be treacherous. The sea claimed the lives of two of her brothers, including her twin.
Extract From Amelia’s Memoir
The beach was our playground. In the summer, June, Sam and I swam in the warm water, then lay on our towels on the warm sand, sheltered from the southerly breeze behind clumps of marram grass, in the sand dunes. We floated on our backs in the waters of the fast flowing flood tide, on the beach side of the sandbar, starting from opposite our house, then floated down to the pier. We would then walk back to our starting point and float down to the pier again, again and again. It was pure magic, like floating on air in another world.
Many years later, when our mother died, June and I stayed in her home ‘The Haven’ for a few days clearing the house. During that time we swam at the beach and floated down to the pier, again and again, capturing magical moments from our childhood.
As children we played houses on the beach, creating large rooms divided by very small sand walls, leaving gaps for doors and windows We gathered green lettuce seaweed and shellfish for make-believe food. In the cool weather, we took long walks around the beach, collecting shells and seeing sea anemones and small fish in rock pools.
I loved the space, the freedom, the sun, the blue skies, the glistening clear blue sea, the stormy days and the fun.
The Haven, an appropriate name for Amelia’s family home and after a scrumptious afternoon tea provided by the ladies of the church I was grateful Claire offered to drop Barbara and me home saving us a long wait (the return coach left at 7pm!) and a circuitous trip to Mordialloc.
Amelia never returned to class in July because she fell and fractured her hip but up until then, despite failing health she came by taxi every Monday morning and always gave me a hug when she left, saying, ‘Thank you for a lovely class.’
Hugs were a signature of any encounter with Amelia – I’ll miss them!
Last week, I attended an annual ‘exclusive briefing’ by the Commonwealth Bank for Ongoing Service customers. This is the fourth or fifth I’ve managed to make and I always choose the Grand Hyatt venue because it is the closest someone on my income will ever be to the luxurious surroundings and lovely lunch they put on – a glimpse into the world of the bank’s overpaid top executives!
The idea of a free lunch – especially from a bank – appeals to me. Although I know it’s not really free – they have my superannuation!
The event always showcases inspirational speakers and if truth be known that is why I make the effort, and I’ve never been disappointed. In the past, I’ve heard Ita Buttrose on her research into nutrition to improve her ageing father’s macular degeneration and blindness, and Robert de Castellaon his work with indigenous communities using marathon running to improve their health and self-esteem.
This year it was Dr Caroline West who enriched my knowledge about the importance of a healthy lifestyle and how to achieve it.
Dr Caroline West
On graduating, Dr Caroline West, MBBS was awarded the prize for most outstanding achievement in community medicine and has spent her life focusing on community wellness.
Still a practising GP, Media Doctor, Lecturer Lifestyle Medicine (University Southern Cross) and Past President of the Australian Lifestyle Medicine Association, she is much sought-after as a speaker.
Needless to say, as a writer and teacher/presenter, I took copious notes but I also wore my hat as a consumer health representative.
Brush with celebrity – me with Dr Caroline West
In fact, Dr Caroline West is a dynamo. A director of her medical practice for over 25 years, she’s mother to three teenage children, and her CV includes an extensive media career as a TV presenter and producer:
Beyond Tomorrow ( enjoyed by a global audience of 50 million through the discovery channel ) Good Medicine, Beyond 2000, 60 minutes , Sex/Life, Living Longer, Everybody , George Negus Tonight , The Midday Show, Tonight Live, Guide to the Good Life. Rural health channel (Foxtel) and Mornings with Sonia Kruger and David Campbell. She is a regular Wellness Blogger ,is the GP expert for Ninemsn and has written regularly for the Sun Herald and Australian Doctor.
I was sitting in the front row listening to the introduction for the keynote speaker. Distracted by a movement beside me, I felt Caroline sit down. When I turned, she gave such a friendly, moonbeam smile I thought she knew me!
Oozing beauty and energy, she proved to be a consummate speaker and performer. Bouncing up to her signature tune and slideshow, strutting the stage with another wide smile to include everyone in the room.
For the next 45 minutes, the audience of retirees and bank employees remained enthralled. Afterwards, she listened patiently as impressed guest after guest, queued to chat and ask questions (free consultations?) and ensured her lunch delayed.
Yet, her lovely smile and enthusiasm never waned.
An Interesting Intro
Dr West bought her first practice at 25 years old. It was above a King’s Cross bottleshop. Arriving at work she’d find a body on the doorstep, people overdosing in the toilets and having seizures in the waiting room.
One of her patients who turned his life around couldn’t appear in an advert for her program because he was wanted in three states!
King’s Cross in the 1980swas, and some people say still is, the epicentre of drugs, alcohol, and violence in Sydney. However, like Melbourne’s St Kilda (pics below) there has been a transformation.
st kilda from beach
luna park st kilda
new apts st kilda
Families and retirees have moved in. A gentrification and softening resulting in the biggest change in Caroline’s 25 years. New housing developments and apartments and the changing nature of work the reasons for the transformation.
It is still a diverse community and her practice, which has grown (now employing 40 people) continues to be fascinating.
What hasn’t changed is that 70% of the health issues on her patients’ lists are directly linked to lifestyle – drugs and alcohol certainly, but also bad diet, lack of sleep and not exercising.
Caroline’s mantra:
The three major factors that affect wellness are exercise, nutrition and your mindset.
Caroline’s simple philosophy: A healthy lifestyle anchors wellness, boosts energy, longevity and peak performance.
She practices what she preaches with surfboard riding, cycling to work, walking the dog and kayaking. Her outdoor activities balanced by her love of art and music and a passion for the ukelele!
WE HAD TO STAND UP AND MOVE.
Caroline told us to shake and do a little dance. The importance of this evident as her presentation proceeded.
We had been sitting listening to the Bank’s financial keynote speaker and would be sitting listening to her. Her demonstration of swivelling hip and hand moves proved motivational dance should be added to her CV!
Caroline’s areas of expertise include nutrition, healthy lifestyle behavioural changes, weight management ,shared care for pregnancy, sleep, exercise, mental health, sexual health, hypnosis and preventative medicine.
She is an S100 prescriber for HIV and remains committed to the latest developments in lifestyle medicine: prevention is the key for better health. A leader in this field she communicates the latest in medical advances not only to patients but also a broader audience through her media work as health broadcaster, corporate speaker and consultant.
Universal Themes For Good Health
something to do
someone to love
something to look forward to
Although her speech was aimed at the audience of retirees, her advice made sense for everyone and spoke to me as a writer – especially as a middle-aged writer!
Not just examining her word choice, and how she presented, but her advice on setting goals, persistence, specific detail, planning and many other points I often talk about in writing classes.
A thought flitted through my mind – ‘physician heal thyself’ – when was I going to take my own advice?
Inspiring People To Live Well
Healthy lifestyle changes are possible. Little changes sustained day after day make a difference.
Unlock the secrets and be inspired to make those changes. Too many of us spend time thinking rather than doing
a goal without a plan is just a wish
We Took A Lifestyle Health Quiz
Q: Who gets less that 7 hours sleep a night?
A goodnight’s sleep important because it affects your mood.
Lack of sleep contributes to weight gain and diabetes.
People who sleep less, eat more. This is because of decreased levels of the hormone ‘leptin’, which regulates the appetite and helps well-rested people control their cravings for food.
Levels of light play a big part in establishing sleeping rhythms
darkness encourages the body to fall asleep and light encourages the body to wake up.
The light emitted from devices like your TV, computer (guilty as charged), phone or even alarm clock will trigger a drop in the levels of a brain chemical that promotes sleep.
Blind people often have trouble with their sleeping rhythms because of their inability to perceive light.
Q: Who volunteers in the community?
Volunteer participation is proven to improve your quality of life and well-being.
SURVEY ON RETIREMENT
Men are concerned about loneliness, they lose friendship groups when they retire, don’t handle the transition from work well – the Men’s Shed Movement a powerful tool to combat depression.
For women the major worry is health. Go to pilates, yoga, a new strain of Tai chi, dance classes – whatever.
Writing classesare also great (personal plug here!) for learning a new skill, therapy, staving off dementia and keeping connected to a community, making friends, as well as maybe starting a new career writing or completing a family history.
A study of grandparents health revealed those who helped out at local schools encouraging reluctant readers and helping in the library program.
Reduced blood pressure
Increased brain function
Reignited pathways in brain
Removed cobwebs and improved ability
Q: Who exercises regularly?
What is good for the heart is good for the brain.
Don’t underestimate the transforming power of exercise. It reduces the risk of Alzheimer’s by 45% !
Therefore, exercise 3 times a week for the elixir of youth because 3 times a week for an hour improves your mood, your looks, and your memory.
Fitness makes you feel energetic, positive and confident.
Walk more. Look for movement at every opportunity – innovate – take stairs, walk or dance when doing housework – 30 minutes a day is all it takes.
Make it specific and get started.
Caroline illustrated that good health does not happen by chance – you need a plan. (Just like good writing needs to be planned and worked at!)
Creating Rituals To Anchor Our Health
Caroline shared her daily ritual – as the sun rises she walks the dog – he seeks his sustenance by sniffing and snuffling, connecting with other dogs, she ends the walk with a coffee in a favourite cafe after chatting with other regular dog walkers.
Early Morning
Mairi Neil (1992)
I love walking in the early morning
That time when the moon and sun
Don’t quite agree whose turn it is
To light the world.
The air smells fresh and clean
The grass soft and moist with dew
The birds have deep, throaty chirps
Proclaiming the new day.
There is a quietness in the streets
Households awaken behind closed doors
Lights glow through drawn curtains
Water burbles in drains.
Cats return home from a night of prowling
Padding softly along pavements
Up driveways, or lie curled in doorways
Awaiting breakfast.
Dogs eager for morning walks
Sit expectantly behind locked gates
Imprisoned and impatient
They growl or bark.
A jogger runs past sweating
Although stripped to the waist
Determination and single-mindedness
Etched on his face
The whistle of a train triggers
The level crossing bells
Signalling rumbling on the rails
Peak hour has begun.
Time to return to rouse sleepy children
Prepare for a new school day
Crumbs on the table
A welcome sign of family life.
Whether you go to the sea and discover what kind of day it will be, or to the park and meet other dog walkers who talk to each other, it is a positive way to start the day.
Walking a dog brings many important lifestyle features together – encouraging you to walk, connect with nature and people, explore paths and nature walks, learning something new.
Walk after work, or in the early evening to relieve stress.
If no dog, maybe sign up for dance lessons, Tai Chi, volunteering – humans need to be connected to improve our health and wellness.
Walking In The Evening
Mairi Neil (1992)
Walking the dog each evening
Should reduce any excess fat
Because Goldie really walks me
Pulling this-a-way and that!
We trot briskly up MacDonald Street
To the footie oval and surrounds
Goldie snuffles, runs, lopes and sniffs
Her restless energy knows no bounds.
Following this endless exuberance
I allow my thoughts to roam free
Aware of damp grass, the rustling trees
Clouds altering above a distant sea.
One night clouds are mashed potatoes
Bursting amidst a jaded dinner plate
Another night perhaps creamed cheese
Ricotta – the type you never grate!
Other times clouds could be steam
Escaping bubbling cauldron or pot
Perhaps a mist rising on stage
In some tricky theatrical plot.
The sky may have rainbow streaks
Stretched yawns of a retiring sun
Mauves, golds, apricots and pinks
Vibrant colours every brilliant one.
But most evenings the clouds meander
To drift lazily across the wondrous sky
During the day they may have raced,
Crashing together and spinning by.
Like Goldie, they barely pause before
Merging to fade and move away
Darkness falls, Goldie pulls at her lead
We head homewards at the close of day.
Little Steps Rather Than A Grand Gesture
Q. Why do New Year Resolutions fail?
The number one new near resolution is to lose weight, especially after the indulgences and over-eating at Christmas.
However, Caroline suggests a resolution like this is too big and won’t succeed. Whereas small changes make a profound difference to your health.
If implemented, small changes can be highly effective. They have a knock-on effect for self and others.
Writers know the value of learning the craft, writing consistently – maybe only 100 words a day and building up to thousands. Anne Lamott’s book, Bird by Bird an excellent example of this.
Emotional eaters often pile on extra kilos so make a decision to be more active –
perhaps as few as 600 – 1000 extra steps a day.
Choose smaller dinners (but make sure half your plate is always fruit and vegetables)
avoid alcohol at night (no ‘self-medication’, going straight home from work, skipping the gym because you’re too tired, but walking in the door and having a big glass or two of wine.)
aim for more sleep.(Anyone who has been sleep-deprived with a young child will know how that in itself can lead to a low mood and grumpiness!)
Studies asking what people want as they age revealed:
a safe place to live,
financial security,
to prevent cancer,
have no aches or pains
enjoy time with grandchildren.
CAROLINE’S CASE STUDY:
Steve 65 was overweight, an ex-heavy smoker, and diabetic at 50.
When he was 62 he was walking down the street and experienced intense indigestion, went clammy and felt severely ill.
He was having a heart attack.
He realised he had a lot to live for – his grandkids keep him buoyant.
He turned his life around because his health is about energy to cope with grandkids –and he wants a girlfriend.
Waiting for a crisis like Steve is a high-risk strategy.
Imagine where you want to be in 5 years time.
Money and security are important but health and capacity to enjoy life more important.
Caroline showed a picture of her grandfather in Royal Navy garb looking healthy on the deck of a ship.
In 1918, 42% of the planet was affected. 50 million people died – three times the number killed in WW1.
Flu Vaccination is important today.Remember that Spanish flu took out young healthy adults.
Today we live longer because of:
antibiotics,
vaccinations,
surgery,
transplants
better knowledge of benefits of nutrition
There has been an incredible change in medicine and medical practice.
Technology has changed too – the first mobile phone referred to as a brick. Today a mobile can do everything and fit into your pocket.
In the western world, we are a complicated highly connected society.
However, not all inventions have been good for our health. Caroline picked on the elastic waistband as one because it ensures we don’t know if we are gaining weight – makes our clothes too comfortable! (Oops – guilty as charged!)
We are supersize now – food and everything else.
We are living longer but living with chronic conditions.
Almost everyone 50 plus is managing a form of arthritis.
We’re living longer, but with more years of poor health
POSITIVES:
Smoking rate has reduced
Heart attack rate reduced
Lifespans improved.
NEGATIVES:
Chronic disease is affected by lifestyle factors:
cancers 71%
stroke 70%
heart attack 87%
diabetes 91%
CAROLINE’S TAKEAWAY:
Lifestyle equals medicine. Daily walking, even slowly, helps.
Think of 3Fs:
feet,
fork,
foregoing
Cut down on what you put on the fork, eat and drink less of the unhealthy foods, and use your feet to walk/run/dance – move.
If you start your morning with a breakfast muffin and a coffee, you are essentially having the same amount of calories as a Big Mac and a small Coke – that’s 530 calories!
Improved lifestyle helps with the big health issues older people face:
prevention of dementia
prevention of heart disease
prevention of diabetes
Caroline’s father died of dementia at 75. (My fatherdied of dementia at 83)
When you’ve witnessed a parent struggling, deteriorating and ultimately dying of dementia you live with the fear that one day it may be you.
Pharmaceutical companies are going gangbusters to find a cure for Alzheimer’s – the next big drug breakthrough for them.
But Caroline’s presentation wasn’t about drugs, rather it was about personal effort and control of your own health by improving lifestyle.
Activity trackers
It is usually safe to get your heart rate up (check with your doctor if you are concerned), because exercise is protective,and aerobic fitness important.
Think of exercise as an opportunity, not an inconvenience
Exercise must be specific to get started on the journey to better health choices.
Most people agree there is a 50% gap between recall (memory) and reality.
Use it as a motivational tool to walk anywhere between 600 – 1000, 6,000 – 12,000 steps daily (the higher number facilitates weight loss)
Start low, go slow, build up
Strength training builds muscles – do resistance training once a week.
Better to get your progress monitored if you can’t focus at home so join a club, gym, or class.
THE BUS EXPERIMENT
In England they did an experiment with workers:
They monitored driver and conductor’s health on the double decker buses.
Drivers had a much higher rate of heart attacks.
Conclusion:
You need to move – every 30 minutes – important more than ever in sedentary jobs and for those (like writers!) sitting in front of computers.
Sit for 20, stand for 8 and move for 2. Put music on and wiggle, walk around the office or the house.
Exercise and movement part of treatment for chronic pain.
If you get up to move around at regular intervals it will increase concentration, mood and the ability to remember information.
Sitting is the new smoking
Remember! Make exercise specific – write a note and put it somewhere prominent (writers should be good at this!):
I will this week do (activity) At this (time) and (place) With (my friend/dog/alone)
Technology provides lots of Apps now to improve the performance of activity trackers (even on your mobile phone) and to help with lifestyle – Caroline smiled when she gave the example of one called Spreadsheets – a tracker for sex – the ins and outs, the sounds – sex is a great exercise! (Let’s hope Steve has some luck looking for a girlfriend.)
HOW DOES AUSTRALIA COMPARE WITH OTHER COUNTRIES?
Healthy zones have been studied in countries like Japan and Greece to discover why some populations are more healthy.
They eat well – mostly plants and small portions of fish.
They move – they integrate activities in their daily life
They connect – friends and family come first – this proves to be an incredibly powerful tool for health, fostering resilience and improving mental health.
Caroline finished with a gardening metaphor – focus on getting the lawnmower out regularly, then do the weeding.
Develop a clear vision – and then take the first step. And remember medicine is not just about medication and surgery!
As a writer/teacher, Caroline’s keynote address was a reminder to look after my own health, curb bad habits like sitting too long without moving but also apply her motivation advice to writing practice:
tackle writing projects in little steps,
be consistent and write every day
keep the final goal in mind and have a plan!
And value our health above all else
No dark fate determines the future – we do. Each day and each moment, we are able to create and recreate our lives and the very quality of human life on our planet.
I don’t consider myself a wowser but have to admit to disquiet about where we are heading as a nation regarding gambling after a recent report ranks Australia among the world’s biggest gambling nations.
In the past, I’ve smiled at the jokes about Australians having a public holiday for a horse race when the Melbourne Cup is discussed.
I’ve bet on the Cup, bought Tattslotto and raffle tickets, and once when visiting my sister in Albury, even put a complimentary $2.00 in 5cent coins through a machine at their local League Club in an attempt to ‘join in the fun’.
That evening I had to beg my sister to take over my machine because I got bored – each time I thought I’d finished feeding the coins I’d win just enough to keep going! I honestly can’t see the attraction of pokie machines, yet poker machines still account for more than half of all gambling losses in Australia.
Here is an article from our local paper this month:
The trend is similar in other cities, where disadvantaged suburbs are delivering the biggest returns to the operators of pokies venues.
On a Monday morning, as we sit writing our stories in the Mordialloc Neighbourhood House there is a steady stream of punters going into gamble at the hotel across the Nepean Highway, now named Mordy HQ, although previously called the Kingston Club.
View from the Window
Mairi Neil
The grey monolith of the Kingston Club dominates the streetscape
Seen through the green curtain of trembling palms, the bleakness softens.
Green and yellow flapping fronds a distraction from concrete geometry.
The garden bed of emerald bushes comforts the dull red leaves of the coprosma
dying under the weight of winter. Tiny shoots peek from the tanbark,
promising spring. I imagine white lilies and yellow daffodils dancing.
Still secreted beneath the soil, other seeds prepare for Mother Nature’s show,
Trained to perfection they absorb today’s bright sunshine.A rainbow line of cars gleam, duco washed and polished by weekend rain.
Last night’s downpour, a cleansing river whisking dusty debris, and leaf litter
Into the drains, to be carried to the sea and discharged into the bay
Fired like a cannonball from the stormwater pipe at Mentone.
A woman walks by, head bowed, hands thrust in jacket pockets.
A mother wheels a stroller down the ramp, her smiling toddler eager to play.
Pens scratch as we listen to meditative music of winter sounds in the writing class
Outside sunshine and serenity belies drumrolls of thunder and crashing cymbals.Beyond the window, I imagine the sea. A calm mirror today, wavelets daintily
Tripping to the foreshore. Dog walkers stroll, children shovel sand and laugh
Beachcombers search for abandoned treasure after hundreds of weekend visitors
Tourists, high-spirited revellers, and locals caught in metal detectors’ sweep.
The gamblers and lonely misfits in the grey monolith hope for luck too
Not by the blue sea, nor breathing fresh air, or soaking in the warmth of the sun.
Caught in the magnetic attraction of gaming machines they do not see
Dappled sunshine dancing on the window pane, or the palm trees tremble.
Australia is ranked among the world’s biggest gambling nations.
Dr Piers Howe, a cognitive scientist at the University of Melbourne, believes Australians are among the heaviest punters on the planet on a per capita basis and are probably the biggest.
Our nation’s gambling addiction has deepened with average net losses borne by each adult member of the population climbing to $1242 in 2015.
New national data published by the Queensland government this month shows that total net losses rose 7.7 per cent to $22.73 billion in the 12 months to the end of June last year, driven by massive growth in online sports betting and casino gaming.
New South Wales is the country’s biggest consumer market for gambling, with average losses per head of population rising more than $100 to $1517.
Victoria was the second-highest gambling state with per capita losses rising by around $85 to $1250, although gamblers burnt cash at a slower rate than their NSW counterparts.
The biggest beneficiaries from our national fixation are big ASX-listed gaming and casino operators and the state governments.
James Packer’s listed casino business, Crown Resorts, raked in a net profit of more than $400 million for the year to the end of June, on the back of solid returns from flagship casinos in Sydney, Melbourne, and Perth.
Packer also owns the local operations of online sports gaming provider Betfair, which is benefitting from the digital gambling boom.
Woolworths is another big winner through its hotel joint venture with national pokies king, Bruce Mathieson.
“It’s easy to look at the release of these figures today as just statistics but let’s not forget that every dollar of ‘gambling expenditure’ comes from a real person and much of this from problem gamblers.”
Tasmanian independent MP Senator Andrew Wilkie
Crowning Glory
Mairi Neil
A glittering palace to mankind’s ingenuity
Or a concrete prison to addiction?
A private playground for the rich list,
Convenient bank for money launderers,
Or harmless escapism to chase Lady Luck?
The foyer a curiosity for snap-happy tourists,
Their wondrous delight as cameras flash
And children stare at magic ceilings
While colourful water fountains dance
To Grieg, Tchaikovsky and Verdi…
Beyond smooth marble surfaces,
Polished wood and gleaming brass,
The alluring world of gaming machines hums.
Amid baize Roulette and Black Jack tables
Serviced by smiling seductive croupiers,
Homes are lost, marriages disintegrate,
Unfettered,the leviathan shatters youthful dreams.
In private rooms high rollers
Win what they can afford to lose…
This is a place for saviours to seek sinners.
Priests have intoned ‘the poor are always with us’
As cries of ‘Bingo’ echo in church halls and
School fetes spin wheels to fund libraries.
Government coffers bulge and the
Community Benefit Tax manipulated ––
Everyone celebrates Cup Day and
Glue-stick legs and arms clamp onto the
2,500 metal machines hidden behind glitzy walls…
The cry of a child in the carpark
Bounces off Commodores and shiny Volvos;
Smothered between Land Rovers and limousines,
Jaded Mazdas, new Toyotas, ancient Fords.
Trembling hands swipe plastic cards ignoring
Mobile phone vibrations and merry ringtones
Self-control buried behind pale faces.
Glazed eyes focus with burning intensity
On spinning numbers and gaudy symbols;
Dry lips pray for luck
To a God abandoned long ago…
Security guards turf tipsy losers
Onto Southbank’s smooth walkways.
At the mercy of loutish thugs they
Stumble home to suburbia, seeking courage to
Face frantic family or exhaust-fumed garage –
Perhaps Gamblers’ Anonymous?
The Yarra River reflects Melbourne’s progress
But at night this River Styx absorbs
The tears of the disadvantaged and
Washes away the writing on the wall.
Each night the news is full of refugees, asylum seekers, homeless, jobless… and although maths has never been my forte you don’t have to be Einstein to work out how much better off society would be if we could get the nation’s addiction under control. If the casino and hotel owners thought of people before profits, and if social programs worked to entice people away from self-destructive behaviour.
A lot of ifs and buts in that dream…
“As gambling becomes more popular it has less of a social stigma and it might be that social norms around gambling have made it more acceptable.”
I guess what we need to do is change behaviour and in some cases cultural norms. As usual, this must start in childhood – children learn what they live! Here is a modern nursery rhyme from my book of Nutty Nursery Rhymes:
Little Miss Honey
Lost all her money
Down at Crown Casino
She found being broke
Wasn’t a joke
Oh, how her tears did flow!
Little Miss Honey
Went to the bank
To ask for a housing loan
The bank manager said, ‘No,
To the Casino don’t go,
Gambling we won’t condone!’
In this episode of Not for Podcast, by Pro Bono Australia news, special contributor Rachel Alembakis, founder and publisher of The Sustainability Report, follows a group of responsible investors, consumer rights advocates and financial counsellors who are campaigning to get the major banks to cut the credit. Online gambling is under the microscope and discredited.
After a few days of almost Spring weather, mercurial Melbourne reminded me it is still officially winter and inadvertently revealed a trace of the past. Above, is an outline which appeared on the kitchen window, of a butterfly sticker removed over two years ago!
The heat generated by the gas heater, plus steam from the pot of sweet potato and lentil soup I was cooking for a Union of Australian Women luncheon, revealed this outline despite the glass being cleaned umpteen times since the sticker was removed.
I’ve never noticed this outline before (day or night) – a ghostlike skeleton from the past – a reminder of something no longer in existence.
A great metaphor for memoir and life story writing when we never know what memory will pop up or be triggered to write about…
If I can encourage and facilitate these stories into print to be widely shared I feel a sense of accomplishment – especially if the stories are from life experiences. This is how we appreciate and learn from each other – and I’m forever amazed at what turns up!
The Olympic Games
School teachers love the Olympics and plan lessons in all subjects around the theme, but I don’t specifically do that in adult classes. However, what a delightful surprise when a student in the Wednesday Life Stories & Legacy class entertained us with her connection to the 1956 Olympic Games held in Melbourne.
An unused postcard found in the Croydon house when we migrated here in 1962
Donna, not only wrote about the links she had with the 16th Olympiadbut brought in a jar containing part of the famous field finishing line!
This ‘show and tell’ was in response to previous lessons when we discussed nostalgia and memories. Sometimes in class, an item is mentioned and the whole group gives a collective laugh or sigh and says, “Oh, I remember that” or “I haven’t thought about that in years.”
Think carefully…
Have you an item/relic from days gone by, no longer useful apart from being an oddity? Have a look in drawers and cupboards and write about it before passing it on to the op shop!
Donna turned up with an old chutney jar from the back of her mother’s kitchen cupboard. This jar had a piece of the turf from the finishing line (white chalk barely discernible after more than half a century later), historic in more ways than one!
The 16th Olympiad was the first time the Games had been held in Australia, and classed as the ‘Friendly Games’
It was the beginning of the tradition whereby all athletes walk into the Closing Ceremony as one group, and not individual countries.
The above newspaper clipping featuring Donna’s mother, “Mrs. John Hellier” explains how she was in a position to souvenir such a piece of Olympic memorabilia.
Heather Hellier was the private secretary to Sir William Bridgeford, the chief executive officer of the Olympic Committee. It was her job to put overseas visitors and other dignitaries at ease (notably the Duke of Edinburgh and Australia’s PM Sir Robert Menzies) as well as a host of officials and journalists from all participating countries.
A typical day for Heather included:
arranging press conferences with Sir William for Australian and visiting journalists
arranging plane tickets and hotel bookings for one of his interstate tours to publicise the Games
typing his many speeches
dealing with correspondence and telephone calls
receiving numerous guests, visitors, and queries
assisting planning for official banquets and receptions (before, during and after the Games) including those for Royal guests of honour
controlling the steady stream of people paying courtesy calls and business people seeking meetings with Sir William during the Games
Donna reading her story while Annie reads a copy of the newspaper article
Donna recalled some of her mother’s conversation about that exciting time when she probably had one of the most prestigious and memorable secretarial positions available.
For my mother , it meant long hours, care for every detail, and constant polite communication, culminating in the Games themselves, which were a well-ordered whirlwind of inspirational efforts, patriotic pride, the honouring of Olympic ideals, as well as meetings with Prime Minister Menzies and even a chat about cycling with the Duke of Edinburgh…
It was frantic but went like clockwork due to all the careful planning.
There were winners and there were losers, heroics, and even bloodshed in the pool as the Cold War managed to enter the Melbourne Olympics, better known from that day to this as The Friendly Games…
… as their feet went over that white chalk line they were as one, no longer divided by country. There were many tears shed as the Olympic flag was taken down, the Olympic Flame extinguished and the athletes left the stadium…
… my mother was horrified to see the Olympic track being unceremoniously dug up in order for the MCG to host a cricket match… this was almost sacrilegious. Always quick on her feet, she ran downstairs and grabbed two pieces of the chalked turf finishing line – one for herself, and one for Sir William…
… that piece of white chalk on Olympic turf had done its job, brought pride and achievement, rewarded hard work, stamina, and sheer guts. Its time in the spotlight under the glare of thousands of photographers’ flash bulbs over. Sad to be gone in physical terms but living on in the history of this country, in the minds and memories of all who saw it, and in film (early TV) and photography.
How lucky to see a tiny piece of that memorable event – even if stored in a chutney jar for 60 years!
I tried to capture that faint white line.
After Donna read her story I remembered some memorabilia from previous Olympic Games that are probably quite rare in Australia.
The Moscow Olympics
In 1980, I worked for the Victorian Branch of the Federated Miscellaneous Workers’ Union and one of the officials, Frank Brady was fundraising for a close friend going to the Olympic Games in Moscow.
However, Russia had invaded Afghanistan in 1979, and the USA and other countries decided to boycott the Olympic Games. The country was divided about attending and the angst and controversy of the time a direct contrast to the cute bear who was the mascot of the Games.
Frank gifted me the bear and badge.
It holds precious memories of my time in the union office and of Frank who died a few years later. There were many debates and discussions around Russia’s invasion of Afghanistan (ironically the USA also took that path years later), the Olympic boycott, the decisions of individual athletes to go or stay, and the spectacular opening and closing ceremonies. These set a high competitive benchmark for every Olympiad since and the effort to go one better.
As Alexander McCall Smith said, ‘we don’t forget…’ and keepsakes and objects help spark the memories!
Misha, also known as Mishka designed by children’s book illustrator Victor Chizhikov
The governments of the United Kingdom, France, and Australia supported the boycott but left any final decision over participation to individual athletes and respective NOCs.
The International Olympics Federations protested that the pressures by the US and other supporting countries for the boycott was an inappropriate means to achieve a political end, and the victims of this action would be the athletes.
Needless to say, there have been plenty of politics at every Olympics since and the controversy over Moscow resulted with only eighty participating countries, the lowest number since 1956.
Yet, the Moscow Games have the distinction that more world records were set than by the fuller contingent attending the previous summer games in Montreal, 1976.
The Sydney Olympics
I have several photographs commemorating the 2000 Olympics held in Sydney, Australia, starting with the Olympic Torch Relay. Lots of community members were chosen to take part in mini relays on the lead up to the great day and my friend from the Union of Australian Women, Amy Duncan ran in Mordialloc.
When the Olympic Torch came to Melbourne, I kept the girls off school and with hundreds of others we cheered the runners at Mentone. We had some morning tea and then caught a tram to spend the afternoon at a special exhibition about Anne Frank at the Holocaust Museum in Elsternwick.
The tram had to stop to let the runners go past, we hopped off and joined the throng of well-wishers. The crowds were so huge, and traffic jammed that we met up with more torch relay runners. It was a slow run because I think the authorities underestimated the thousands who would take to the streets to cheer.
The girls met several runners (former and current athletes) and they both got to hold an Olympic Torch. Perhaps in a writing class of the future, they’ll write their story of that day.
For most people, the highlight of the 2000 Games was Cathy Freemanand although I would never call myself a sporty person, Cathy, and those Games encouraged me to be a couch potato for a few weeks, and join John and the girls watching the Games!
The Beijing Olympics
The final Olympic story triggered by Donna’s magnificent Mother’s history was of the Beijing Olympics in 2008.
Prior to China hosting the Olympic Games, I was working for Melbourne University Student Union, and we hosted a delegation of Chinese university students from the same Beijing university that led the protests in 1989 later known as the Tiananmen Square Massacre.
The students were coming to Australia to learn about representative student unions, how to run student elections, and work with university administration.
We had many interesting discussions and I showed them photographs of my time in China in 1979 – long before any of them were born! We also talked about 1989 and what memories they or their parents had. They were optimistic for the democratization of their country’s institutions.
All of them had gifts to share and along with a lovely wall hanging and polished wooden coasters, they gave me an Olympic Games fan, and I requested their autographs.
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
Please share whatever memories you have of Olympic Games – past or present!
Who Are My Students? Uncertainty and Anticipation
1. What sitcom character would I be?
Up the Creek with a pen ... 