My mother was the one who handed out most of the advice to me, personally, in our home. One piece of advice I remember was given when I was nineteen.  Dad had finally bought the farm out on Goomalibee Road he had longed for all his life.  Mum took me aside and said "Don't learn to milk the cow or it will be your job for the rest of your life.  Leave that task for the boys". So I never learnt to milk the cow and the boys had the daily battle with the house cow.

We had moved to Benalla a year before when I had finished Year 12, known in those days as Matric, in Melbourne.  The move was fine for me, but not necessarily so for my brothers and much younger sister.  I spent a year, known nowadays as a gap year, but not known of in those days, working in my parents' newsagents in Nunn Street.  There was no job in Benalla after the newsagency was sold or on the farm, so I applied to do what was my real love and that was teaching.  

But back to advice as set out by Mother.  One of her roles in life was to vet my boyfriends, which was fair enough, but not as I saw it as a young woman.  As I have mentioned in past stories, Godfrey was my school boyfriend, but there were others around the edges, who on looking back, must have been a constant worry to my parents.

First there was Max, my brother's cricket coach and captain coach of the Melbourne baseball team.  Max was much older than me.  He had access to events and places that impress a gullible teenager.  In desperation, the final advice from mum was 'You can't marry him, you will have ugly babies".  Well, that put a dampener on that little adventure.  Still, Godfrey stayed around and mum made a fuss of him.  We say now that she arranged the marriage.

The second friend who caused mum some worry was Harry, whose uncle owned the Greek cafe 'Garden of Roses' in Bridge Street near Millers.  Harry and his brother Steven had come out from Greece when they were fourteen and had worked in the shop ever since that day. They lived above the shop and rumour had it that their uncle was the wealthiest shop owner in town, but not in the social sense.  Greek boys were not acceptable boyfriends in those days for an Australian girl.  Mother's advice?   "You cannot marry someone who owns a fish and chip shop.   You will smell of oil and end up fat on chips".  So ended that romance.  Mind you, mum was sorely put out when Harry's family wrote from Greece saying he wasn't to marry an Australian girl!

So Godfrey prevailed and Mother was happy her advice had been taken.  

According to those who, on the whole, have never attempted to take a public office role within their community, as a former ‘Polly’ I’m supposed to be the ultimate example of ‘faking it’.

​In my own defence, I would say I’m no more guilty of faking it than the average person who puts an effort into living a peaceful life, trying not to upset family, friends and strangers alike.  For example, if greeting a friend who is dying of cancer you say how much better they are looking when you know they have only weeks to live.  After all, you are not going to say “Gee, Jenny, time seems to be running out for you”. 

Not the same thing I hear you say, so let us look at my life as a politician and let us see what you think after you have digested my story.

I took an active role in politics when I returned to Benalla with my two children and husband in tow, joining the Labor Party because these were people who espoused the same values I had about people and how we should and could live together.  I enjoyed the monthly meetings and especially liked taking the message out at election time hoping people would vote for our team.  I stood as a candidate, becaming active in various roles which often took me to Melbourne.

Without going into all the details, we eventually moved to Melbourne where I had a job close to a Minister in a Labor Government.  We had chosen Altona as our home branch as it was a working class suburb and close to the city.  As usual we joined up with the local branch which was generally run as a country branch based on friendships not factions.
 
By this time though I had joined a faction.  By making a stand each time I voted, I gradually found myself taking a stand to the left of the party.

Then there was a State redistribution of seat boundaries and Altona was made a new seat.  This took the factional ‘heavies’ by surprise.  They were even more surprised when I had the numbers in a vote for pre-selection
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At the same time there was division within the left about the sale of public utilities.  I joined those against the sale, becoming part of a group known as ‘the pledge group’.  These were my values, I didn’t compromise and that was my downfall.  The right and the left joined forces against ‘the pledge group’ and placed someone else in the seat of Altona.  I was heartbroken to be treated in such a way, but now I understand that is life if you don’t ‘go with the flow’, especially in a political party.
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So with this tale I submit that, in general, 'Pollies' don’t fake it any more than the general public, all of whom are doing their bit to make life as tolerable as possible.
 
Carole Marple
June 2016