​During the mid-1960s I often met a group of friends after work at a local milk bar set up with mini juke boxes on each table. At that time I was living in Mangimup in Western Australia.  We would get milkshakes and put coins in the juke box to hear our favorite music, usually Elvis. Well, one day, while we were singing along to Love Me Tender, this guy walked in looking amazingly like Elvis. We stopped talking and just watched him join his mates at the back of the diner. Wow, sooooo handsome! I started seeing him all over town and began saying hello as we passed.

One day we were all sitting with our music and shakes as usual when the guy and his mates came over and invited us to join them for the Slim Dusty concert that was in town. It wasn’t Elvis, but it turned out to be a great night out. There was a barbecue and singing, some country dancing and a lot of fun.

The Elvis guy and I got talking. His real name was Ken. We found we had a heap of interests in common. We had both grown up on farms and loved animals. We both had relatives who were artists. Ken was 4yrs older than me and had already bought his first car, an FJ Holden. I was still on the trusty bike.

As we both loved the country, we did a lot of bush walks, picnics, barbecues and visited local sights. The first time he picked me up he was greeted by Dad at the door giving him the third degree. They soon became friends. One day he drove me out to the farm where he lived, and I too was greeted by a Dad who scrutinized me. It must have been the thing back then, Dads vetting potential dates.

Well, as soon as I began telling his family about my auntie, the artist, I was in. Soon I forgot about Ken as I watched his Dad paint a magnificent picture of a Clydesdale horse. Ken loved motor bikes. His Dad and I did not. His Dad and I loved horses, Ken did not. His Dad told me discreetly that Ken was a bit scared of them.

So, it meant a lot when, one day, Ken accepted my invitation to come on a pony trek. I arranged two quiet horses, old plodders in fact.  We set off at a leisurely pace through farm tracks and forest. Ken soon began to relax, though he was not exactly comfortable. Suddenly there was a loud bang, and both horses bolted, veering in all directions. We both fell off into the mud. We confirmed neither of us had an injury as he wiped mud off my face.

It was in that moment I knew we were meant for each other. When the horses came back looking at us strangely, we laughed, then rode home looking like a couple of mud monsters.  On our next date he arrived on a motorcycle – “fair’s fair” he said. I soon got to enjoy the ride. After 12 months we were so in love we became engaged.

Sometime later Ken was conscripted into the Army and was sent to Vietnam. We corresponded, cheering each other up with tales of our dates and mishaps like that first horse ride.  

​About a year later it was devastating to receive a phone call from his parents to say that Ken had been killed along with two of his mates.    The next trip to the milk bar we shed tears over our milkshakes, as my friends had also lost boyfriends or brothers in Vietnam.

I will always remember him.
 
Heather Hartland
April 2026

​1960 was an important year for me. I was eighteen, had arrived from the U.K. on the Fairsky and was working at the ANZ Bank in Collins Street.  

Going to and fro on a tram from Balwyn to the City, I befriended agirl named Elizabeth. She suggested we go dancing on Saturday nights. There was a local dance in Balwyn once a month, but generally we went to the St. Kilda Palais. We made a pact, never to come home with anyone unless they brought us both home. Otherwise we left early and came home on the tram.

I wasn’t much of a dancer, but one man generally asked me. He was Dutch but spoke beautiful English. Gerritt (known as Bert) was a young builder.  Tall and slim, he taught me most of the dances.

After our second meeting, he asked to take me home. I explained the arrangement I had with Elizabeth. He said he had a‘Ute’,and it would be quite cramped. I had no idea what he was talking about, until all three of us stepped out to the car park. It was my first trip in a Ute, and although snug, I found it quite exciting. We dropped Elizabeth home, then after a quick cuddle and a kiss, we said goodnight. This became the norm for the next four months.

The ANZ Bank had a position vacant at their Mordialloc branch, so I was able to transfer from the City, and move into my workmate Elaine’s bungalow in Mentone. Elaine had already left the Collins Street branch, and was working at the Mentone branch.

Elizabeth and I kept up our friendship, until she and her family sold up and moved to a farm in the country. Bert and I were still seeing each other. It was easier now, as he lived in a boarding house in Brighton. He used to have dinner with Elaine and I, at least twice a week, and I would be invited to his place at least once or twice a week.

Life settled into a nice pattern. He was so respectful of me, but later, I was beginning to think differently. Especially as Elaine had met her boyfriend Peter, who often stayed the night, something that would never have occurred to Bert.
 
I was doing the dishes with Bert’s land lady, who had cooked a roast for us and Bert’s friend, also named Peter. The fellows were chatting in the garden. She asked me how things were going with Bert. I said slow but good. She told me how much she liked me, but she worried that Bert wasn’t being fair to me. His friendship with Peter was disturbing, she had found some books in Bert’s room the previous week and was worried about his friendship with Peter, as he stayed one or two nights at Peter’s place, when he wasn’t seeing me.
 
Suddenly it was as if a bomb had dropped. How stupid am I?

Bert and I were booked in a motel on Philip Island to celebrate my birthday. I asked him the name of the motel. He had no idea that I had phoned them and changed the booking from two rooms, to a double with a queen size bed.
 
On arrival Bert picked up the key and we headed for the room. I felt sick, but I had to know the truth. The look on his face was priceless. I told him what I suspected. Bert said his feelings for Peter were strong, but in those days people were scared to admit their sexual preference.
 
My first love had become a disaster.
​
 
Jan Nichols
April 2026

The heading is perhaps misleading, but one of the extraordinary and significant ‘moments’ this year, actually occurred just four weeks ago.

By way of background information, the story begins with a local not-for-profit community group, that was formed many years ago by returned service men and women from the 2nd World War. The group was formed originally to honour the extraordinary work done with prisoners of war by a person who was born in the region.

I had been ‘co-opted’ onto the committee not long after moving back to Victoria in 2006, by a friend who had also been connected to one of the survivors of the Changi prison camp. This person had coached both of us as juniors in tennis.

The local committee had always operated for the benefit of the community and after completing a memorial to the person in question in 1996, they used the remaining donated funds to sponsor local disadvantaged children with their transition from secondary school to university.

After operating for over 30 years, the value of the investments was not generating sufficient funds to cover the rising costs of the scholarships. The decision was taken by the remaining committee members, to cease the activities, and after using a bequest to complete a restoration of the memorial, the remaining funds were to be donated to a local charity to assist with their student support programs.

Being one of the younger members of the committee, the task fell to me to facilitate the processes. The local monumental masons were contacted and fortunately gave a quote for the restoration, that matched the amount of the bequest. The memorial had a complete restoration prior to the responsibility for ongoing maintenance being transferred to Benalla Council.

Following this, the bank account was closed, the handover of the remaining funds to a local charity took place on 20th June 2024, and the community group then ceased to exist.
With the assistance of the current Treasurer, we had completed the memorial restoration and the winding up of the group finances, and we thought that we had put everything neatly to bed — WRONG!!

A letter dated 30th September 2025 was received from the Australian Tax Office at the address of the original Treasurer, who’d had passed away some five years earlier.

I immediately contacted the last Treasurer, and he confirmed that he had no knowledge of the ABN or the details contained within the ATO communication. Given that none of the remaining committee members knew of the existence of this ABN, I commenced a process into attempting to advise the ATO that the community organisation no longer existed and attempted to cancel the ABN!!

What followed was bureaucracy meeting human coincidence in the most unexpected way.

I followed the prompts in the ATO internet contact process, and when their AI system could not comprehend what I was attempting to advise, I was directed to a ‘real’ person, or at least I thought so. After explaining that the recipient of the ATO letter was no longer with us, and that the community group no longer existed, the ‘person’ on the other end of the phone, which could have been anywhere including Upper Kumbuckna West, advised that “I was not an authorised person” and would have to contact my taxation accountant to have them cancel the ABN. I did explain that the ‘authorised person’ had passed away some five years ago and was unable to cancel the ABN himself!!

I hit a ‘stone wall’.

As advised by the ‘person’ at the ATO, I duly made an appointment with my taxation accountant and explained the process that I had been through. It was reassuring to be advised by the accountant that a number of Benalla community not-for-profit groups had already been through the same process. However, they may have had a better result than that which was about to unfold!!

Feeling reassured, I left the matter with the accountant, only to be advised a few days later that they had also met the same ‘stone wall’ at the ATO…..and the ABN was still registered!!

I was at a function late last month and was speaking with a person about the issue that had arisen with the former community group and the ATO. I was astonished to discover that this person, was in fact, now living at the ‘delivery’ address and was the person who eventually located the current charity and delivered the ATO letter.

I‘m sure that the current resident will let me know if another letter addressed to the ‘Group’  from the ATO, arrives in the mailbox.

Barry O’Connor.
November 2025.

We were the only ones to have this perspective on the incredible light show that lit up the lake and gallery.

Sally and I often find ourselves the only ones doing something. Since moving to Benalla, we have made a point of riding our bikes whenever we can. We try to commute by bike. These trips can be for shopping, work, to meetings and to functions. We’ve been to plenty of events as the only people who have cycled. It is not always practical, but when we can manage it, it is often easier and quicker than going by car, especially because there are never any parking issues.

I once rode from Clarke St up around the lake to a night showing of a special movie at BPACC and was the only cyclist there. The ride home was the only time I’ve not encountered anyone on the track. It was quite magical riding through the bush in the dark.

We sometimes take our kayaks out on the lake and up the river and, almost always, we have the water to ourselves. We have learned where to look for platypus and even know of a bird rookery where we have seen night herons and spoonbills nesting. Often, we can see people walking or running along the track as we sit and observe nature.

Last Monday, when I asked Sally, “How would you like to do Diwali by kayak?” she was all for it.

We parked our truck near the boat ramp at the end of Benalla St and walked up to the celebrations to meet with some friends and to get some of the delicious food that was on offer.

Walking back to the car we decided to take the kayaks around to under the library as there was more lighting there for when we returned to put them back on the car.

As soon as we launched, we knew it would be magical. The wind had dropped and the water was like silk. ​

We paddled under the bridge past the Diwali celebrations to the two islands in the lake. The setting sun provided a wonderful backdrop as the birds came in to roost. 

​A couple of guys were at war on the tennis courts. We took some photos and, as the sun dropped below the horizon, we headed back towards the light show.

​We probably stayed on the water for about an hour. An amazing experience and we were the only ones to view this amazing spectacle from the water.
​
​
John Holschier,
November 2024

​‘Namaste’, I said to my new neighbours. They smiled and returned the greeting. Then they apologetically explained that they were from Punjab in the north of India where Namaste was replaced by a different greeting.

A couple of weeks later I rang the doorbell armed with paper, pen and a container of Anzacs. (Ever tried to explain the meaning of Anzac, let alone the fact that it referred to biscuits!)

“Come in, come in,” they welcomed. “Sit down. What would you like to drink?” I wrote down their real names, the names they commonly used and their special greeting. In the meantime a glass of water appeared along with snacks of nuts and a bowl of grated carrot, coconut, almond meal and condensed milk.

“We’ve never had a neighbour visit us before. Can we show you our wedding photos?” Of course they could, so the laptop was produced. I started to say farewell but a cup of special chai was being made so I sat down again.

Diwali, the festival of lights, was coming up and I knew the Benalla Festival included a celebration. I dropped in to ask if they were going. They weren’t, because it was on the 4th. November and they wanted to celebrate on the proper date, the 1st.  November. Would I come in and join them? How could I refuse?

I rang the day before to check on the time.  –  Any time. -  Does it include a meal? –  Of course .- What time do you eat? -  8 or 9 o’clock.

I duly arrived at 7.30. Raavi had created a beautiful design from coloured powder on the tiles inside the front door. She poured me a glass of juice and proffered a box of cashew sweets. Davy arrived home from work and we ate appetisers – spherical paper-thin balls which you broke open, put in some spicy mixture then covered it with a thin corn soup.

Time for the lighting. Some tiny clay pots, filled with oil and holding a plait of cotton, were placed on the design near the door and carefully lit.

Then some tea candles were placed on the doorstep and on the front path and also lit. Out the back and more tea candles placed on the ground. Raavi flicked a switch and some ‘Christmas-tree-style’ streamers with tiny lights appeared. Then three sparklers were produced and we waved them around in the air and proclaimed, ‘Happy Diwali’.

​Nine o’clock and time to cook some spiced rice and some chapatis. A vegetarian curry of tofu was produced and some very spicy spears of okra.

Constantly I was assured, “Just try these things and if they are too spicy, don’t eat them.” A final dessert of sweet milky rice with crushed nuts was dished up, with the comment that this had been cooked especially for me in case the other food was not to my taste.

So many times I was thanked for coming. Could they call me Grandma? Of course. At 9.45 when I got up to leave and walk around the corner, I thanked them heartily and produced my torch. “But we’re coming with you to make sure you get home safely.” And that is exactly what they did!

To think that in more than eighty years, that was my first Diwali.
​
 
Carmyl Winkler
November 2024

Undoubtedly, April and May 2023 encompassed many of the happiest and memorable moments of my life.
 
You may ask the old question “Why is this so?”
 
To illustrate the importance of these two marvellous months, I need to provide some background history.
 
My parents married young and produced four children, but we were spread out over nearly twenty years.  The first two were born each side of the war and the Comley family was complete.  However, I appeared as a welcome surprise nine years later and my sister, Jan, arrived four years after my debut.
 
Despite these age gaps, all four of us shared a very close bond with each other and our parents.  But we basically lived the various stages of our youth as single children due to the differences in age.
 
My younger sister Jan was only thirteen when I left the farm to work in Melbourne where my boyfriend lived with his family.
 
Just a year later, Jan was bridesmaid at our wedding, and I embarked on a new, grown up, phase of life.
 
Jan went to America for twelve months as an Exchange Student, followed by a couple of years in Canberra at University.  Next for her was 12 months teaching in Finland.
 
Consequently, we did not see each other a great deal during our young adult years.
 
Time rolled by, with a constant exchange of letters and phone calls, but not a lot of visits.  Jan moved between Sydney, Adelaide and Perth and I worked in Melbourne. 
 
Sadly, my marriage ended.  I began travelling overseas often, still with regular letters and postcards flowing between us.
 
I married a man from Switzerland and Jan married as well.   Children arrived, two for me and four for Jan.  Well, that kept us busy for the next twenty to thirty years.  When we did catch up, it was always a busy family occasion with many People.
 
Jan retired in Perth, and I moved to Benalla.
 
Now to more recent times.  My son Toby and his wife relocated to the UK for work in 2017.  They built a small granny flat at the beginning of this year for Aussie visitors.  Toby kept urging me to go over to try out the new accommodation.
 
Suddenly, an exhilarating idea occurred to me and my two darlings in England agreed. I phoned my sister Jan and announced, “You and I are going on holiday to England!”
 
The next few weeks were a frenzy of planning the trip.  We were bursting with excitement, anticipating our great adventure together.
 
We flew from Perth on a direct flight to Heathrow with permanent grins plastered on our faces.
 
Our little garden chalet was a very comfortable base, and our excursions began immediately.  We were not going to waste a moment of our precious time together.  Toby very generously lent us a car for the whole seven weeks.  Not the Aston Martin though, as neither Jan nor I are built for slinky sports cars these days!
 
We traversed narrow winding lanes and motorways, all over the south of England.  The Cotswolds, Norfolk, Oxford, Henley on Thames, Somerset, Kent, Windsor, Bath, Wiltshire, Dorset, Hampshire, Sussex, Surrey, Suffolk, Gloucestershire.  Me driving (a manual car for the first time in thirty years) and Jan doing an excellent job of navigating. 
 
Although we had an idea of where we wanted to go, we frequently deviated from the route, at whim.  We often had overnight unplanned stays in quaint old pubs and cute cottages.
 
King Charles’ Coronation was an event not to be missed, so we stayed in the West End of London for four nights to soak up the atmosphere and enjoy this spectacle.  Glorious scenery, pebbly beaches, hedge lined lanes, masses of spring flowers and lambs at every turn.  Small villages both touristy and sleepy ones, craft shops, thatched cottages, castles, historic sites, National Trust mansions, awe inspiring immense Cathedrals and humble old churches surrounded by ancient graves.  Harrods, double decker buses, Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle, statues, botanical gardens, cottage gardens, long boats on canals, coloured doors, ancient doors with low lintels.  Deer roaming in the woods, pheasants running across the roads, cats to be counted, craft shops, walking, wandering exploring, sitting and admiring.
 
Underpinning these daily excursions was always our joint quest for the most perfect tea room in England!  We were both untiring, dedicated and assiduous in this serious pursuit.
 
Throughout the amazing experience, the most precious aspect for us was sharing all these experiences just with each other.  Making up for all the years we had been apart.
 
As we were nearing the end of our holiday, my sister remarked, “Do you realize that we have spent 24 hours a day together for seven weeks and we have not had one cross word or run out of things to talk about?”
 
It was the happiest uninterrupted period of time in my life, I think.
 
We agreed that we have never talked and laughed and sung aloud as much as we did then.
 
It was a totally carefree, pleasurable, joyous, hilarious couple of months with my best friend, Jan, that will uplift me for the rest of my years.
 
 
Jill Gaumann
November 2023

​16th February 2023

On this day I received a phone call from my eldest Grandson to alert me to the fact that I was to become a Great Grandfather in August. As predicted, Loui Timothy Laffan, arrived on 17th August at 9.09 am, weighing 2.49 kg. and 46 cm tall. Since his birth he has developed to be a very healthy and placid young man.

Given that he is our first Grandson, he may come in for some special attention in future years, however we need to take care, as we have eight other Grandchildren who may add to the number of Great Grandchildren that we may be able to enjoy.

It is great to see the family expanding; however the O’Connor name will vanish from history within a generation. Whilst there is only my brother and myself remaining in our branch of the family, my brother has three daughters and I have two daughters and a son. My one son has two daughters, thus the male branch of the family, and the name, will eventually pass into history.
__________________________

I did have a previous contribution prepared; however it was far too long and was a further development in the search for the history of my Great Uncle, Lewis O’Connor.

20th October 2023

On the 20th October 2023, I received an email with an attachment from my relative, Pamela Dexter. She had found a note that had been written at the time of Lewis’s death and gave some insight into his whereabouts, during the fifteen years that he had vanished from the Electoral Rolls. The information from this email did supply some validated information about Lewis, who appeared to have been operating as a bookmaker at various horse and greyhound racetracks around the state. It also confirmed that he did in fact still live with his wife, and was involved in a number of financial ventures with family members. The email also included two images of Lewis, one as a younger man (about 40) and one taken on the day of his 80th birthday. I did some research based on some information in the document and located Lewis’s ledger book and a blank betting ticket, which are held in the MCG Racing Hall of Fame!! Did the information provide the missing evidence? No, it simply added to the mystery.

The expanded and updated history on my Great Uncle will be presented at the Family Research session on 23rd November.


Barry O’Connor,
November 2023

My ‘One Moment, This Year’ has lasted most of the year.

In February this year I started a course at U3A, ‘Family Research for Beginners’.

I was fascinated right from the start.  At the first session I was hooked on Ancestry.com, my family tree, soon finding relatives I never knew existed who are still alive and well. Sadly, many others had passed away in recent years, relatives I could have easily been in touch with and got to know better before it was too late, had I known about them.

Speaking with a few of my relatives who are still alive, this past year, one thing I have found is that they rarely speak of their older relations.   In England where most of my family come from, I am told they never spoke much of people outside of their immediate family, unless they were living in the same area and nearby. I guess they never had the transport or the infrastructure that we have these days to get around. Certainly not the technology we have now. Very few people had a telephone or a camera, things we just take for granted.  So, it is understandable that our ancestors never had the communication or connection to each other in their day as we do in ours.

Using Ancestry.com, I discovered a lot of my relations lived quite close to each other, in the same town or village, quite often in the same street, or in the same row of terrace buildings.  Some lived in the family home, grew up, married, had families of their own, then moved next door or in the same street. Then to make things worse, a lot of babies were named after an uncle or an aunt, or other relation. So having the same names and living in the same street made things a bit difficult at times. It was only through birth dates and deaths that I could really work out who was who. Again, to make things worse, since a lot of babies didn’t survive or live for very long, the parents would give the same name to another child later on.

Some of my forebears had lots of children, too. Once again, technology was still a long way off as we know it now. No TV, no contraception, not much lighting, but very long cold nights.

Also on the male person’s side, quite often, and for quite a few generations, a male was named after his father, who was also named after his father, who was named after his father, and so on. Therefore, getting birthdates and death dates correct is very important.

People in my family didn’t appear to know much about their ancestry in the old days, and they certainly made it very hard for future generations to find out about theirs too.

In saying all that, hard as it may have been at times, I have enjoyed every minute of it, and I will continue to enjoy it, I’m sure.

Of course, when finding all these ancestors, I found dates of births and deaths, baptisms and burials, marriages, and the occasional divorce. I also found old photographs of people and buildings, local area photos and maps.

​So far, the worst crimes I have found in my ancestry involve a couple who were locked up overnight for being ‘Drunk and Disorderly’. Hopefully, that is all I will find.

Well, as I said at the start, my ‘One Moment This Year’ has been a long and exciting one, and I look forward to next year being just as interesting, ‘As Time Goes By’.

Merry Christmas everyone!
​
 
Tom Barnaby
November 2023

​On Tuesday, 20th June at 7.50 am we were confronted with a burst hot water service at a very inopportune time, and there-in lies a story.

It goes like this:

On 15th June, Bernadette celebrated a birthday.  At our time of life all birthdays are special.  Bernadette did not consider this one so, but our family evidently did.  They gave us a big surprise!

Working through Peter (our second son), it was arranged for us to fly to Sydney to view the Disney show, Beauty and the Beast, and to spend the night in overnight accommodation.  Jacki, our daughter, was to pick us up and drive us to catch the plane in Albury.  

That was at 8 am - we had discovered our faulty hot water service at 7.50 am!

In very heavy fog we drove to the airport.  This was to be the first flight for either of us in many years.  Anyway, we flew from Albury at 10 am and arrived in Sydney some time after 11 am.  A chauffeur picked us up and took us to our accommodation.  To our surprise we were booked, not into a motel, but into the Sebel Quay West Suites overlooking the Opera House, The Bridge and the Sydney Harbour.  We could see all this, near-by, from our balcony.

We were booked into dinner for 5 pm (I have never before seen a "Parma" like mine!)  The chauffeur, 'Sam', of Chinese descent, picked us up at 6 pm, producing a box of hand-made chocolates for Bernadette.

Sam was very chatty, and seemingly very family oriented.  He was complimentary of our family for giving us this surprise and told us that he was going to treat us as "special".  He drove us to the Capitol theatre and ensured that we were there in plenty of time to see the show.

We had excellent 'aisle' seats in the theatre, with another outlet just in front of us, so that we had a wonderful view.

​Beauty and the Beast was a stand out stage show and we were thrilled.

There was, however, a minor glitch, as the show blacked out at the very climax when the beast was being set upon.  However, patrons were very patient and the show resumed in about 5 or so minutes, when the Beast was saved.

Sam, the chauffeur, picked us up from the theatre, and, on driving us back to the Suites, queried what we had planned on being discharged at 10am in the morning.  He proposed that he pick us up and drive us to see the Sydney sights to fill in time before our return flight to Albury. 

And so he did!  Not only did we see the sights, he took us to his 'office', which was situated in the same building as Krispy Cream Do-nuts.  He provided us each with a coffee and a box of a dozen mixed do-nuts.  He also promised to provide a limousine for us when we returned to Sydney to celebrate my 100th Birthday, in May 2032.

On saying "good-bye" to us, Sam gave us both a big hug, with a special kiss for Bernadette.  And so we were left at the airport for our return flight.

We arrived at Albury at about 4.30 pm and were met by son Peter and grand-daughter Evie, for the drive home.

We arrived at a little before 6 pm, to discover that a new hot-water system had been installed, with the old one waiting to be taken to the tip.

And so... "...One moment this year!" started at our back door with a burst hot-water system at 7.50 am on the Tuesday morning and ended with a replacement system in place at 5.50 pm on Wednesday 21st June, after so many .... many ..... many very pleasurable moments in between.  

JUST HOW GREAT IS MY FAMILY!!!!!!!


Ray O'Shannessy
November 2023

2023 is a year I will not forget.     One moment has changed my life, my outlook, my valuing and acceptance of people and my lot in life.   I think it has made me a better person.
 
After 10 years of the inability to do many daily activities in my life and continual pain and on many painkillers, on 29th May my life changed forever.    My Anaphylactic reaction to a drug administered prior to an operation, my heart stopping for 17 minutes until I responded.   My sons were contacted by the hospital to make their way to the Royal Melbourne Hospital urgently.    After CPR and three Defibrillator shocks I did eventually respond and was taken to ICU for two days, where I was monitored constantly.
 
When I awoke in ICU, sitting beside me was a Chaplain of the Uniting Church.    Two of my sons arrived a short time after.   My daughter-in-law had contacted my grandchildren who now live in the Gold Coast and the two of them had flown down on the first available flight to be with me.    Two of my other grandchildren visited me the next day, with my younger son and his wife arriving the night before I was discharged.   I never had needed to see and touch my family so much.
 
Chaplain Julie visited me on a number of occasions during my stay, which I found very comforting.   I opened up about my involvement in the Church growing up and how the Church treated me when I went for them for help whilst I was in a violent marriage.    They didn’t want to know me, let alone help me.    I now attend Church and find it very comforting.   I have also taken advantage of their live streaming of services when I am unable to attend personally.
 
I found I was questioning my priorities in life.   I started really appreciating waking up in the morning, getting pleasure watching the birds, plants and stars.   Seeing them differently, not as objects, just being there, but why they are there, questioning and trying to have a better understanding of life itself.   I am still discovering so much about being alive.
 
I am looking at and now more accepting of other peoples’ actions, the decisions they make, without my making judgement.    It was a shock to realise that I was thinking this way - who am I to judge people?   I am now more accepting of people for who they are.    I have found my interaction with my family is somewhat different, we appreciate each other more, we contact each other regularly and tell each other that we love them and value their being here.   (Unfortunately, though, nothing changed within the family with regarding the relationship between my sons – still there is time).
 
I am more content with my life – I used to think I was, but now I know I am.    I do feel different.    Things that mattered before no longer do.   There are other things to appreciate.
 
I eventually had my operation nine weeks later in August.     This time it was successful.    I am without pain, I am still weak on one side, but I am alive and so looking forward to learning about myself and who I am.    Chaplain Julie was once again by my side during my stay in hospital, which I was grateful for as I was rather frightened at the time.    I did look forward to seeing her again as I have so much to thank her for.

 
Heather Wallace
November 2023.

It was mid afternoon. Sunny and warm with a slight whisper of a breeze caressing my face as I walked along Arundel Street. I was letter boxing prior to the ‘Voice’ referendum. Enjoying the walk, and supporting a cause in which I passionately believed, I felt a degree of self-righteous pleasure, as I built up my ‘step’ count in such an enjoyable manner.
 
As I walked, I was not sure what to make of a figure lying on the corner of the street. It appeared to be a young man in his early thirties crouching and convulsively weeping, seemingly unaware of anything happening around him. Simultaneously, two other passers-by also saw the young man and as we acknowledged each other, there was a non-verbal agreement that I would investigate, as I was the closer.
 
He was dressed in his standard ‘tradies’ shirt, trousers and boots. As I got closer I noticed that one sleeve of his shirt was saturated with his tears. I sat down on the footpath beside him and said nothing.
 
After a period his weeping began to ease and I asked whether he was ok. He explained his situation.
 
With a steady job, he was living with his girlfriend, her two children and his dog. He had a job out of town and when his vehicle broke down he found himself unable to pay for the repairs. His girlfriend had been driving him to work each morning at 7.00 o’clock but found it too difficult to manage with the extra burden in addition to her responsibility for her two children. She had asked him to leave.
 
He now couldn’t get to work, could not pay for the repairs to his car, had no place for his dog and no accommodation.
 
Feeling inadequate, I jumped into a problem–solving mode asking whether I could offer him some money or a hug. He quietly, but politely rejected both my offers.
 
We then sat in silence together.
 
After a time he gained a degree of composure and told me that he was heading up to a mate’s place. He rose able to continue his journey.
 
He then looked down at me, had the grace to acknowledge this old grey-haired guy sitting on the cement, probably looking a little nonplussed.
 
“Would you like a hand-up?’  I gratefully received.

Graham Jensen
​November 2023

I am reluctant to write about this moment but, quite honestly, it’s the moment that immediately stands out for me. Perhaps my other moments weren’t quite as dramatic.

I know just when this happened as I was on my way to Brain Games – about 1.45 on the fourth Tuesday of September. I was only a few minutes from home, part way down the path leading to Jaycee Island. The path has been patched a good deal so is not entirely level but it’s a path that I’ve walked along most weeks in the last two years. Maybe I was looking for birds. Whatever the reason, I fell over, flat on my face.

If this has ever happened to you, you will be aware that, as you are falling, you know exactly what is happening but you can’t do anything about it.

I lay there for a minute wondering whether I could get back on my feet. When I did manage to, I dabbed my face with a tissue, finding it immediately covered in blood. I wasn’t too sure which part of my face was responsible for the flow, but slowly made my way back up the path and across the street.

There, standing by her car, was an angel disguised as a kindly middle-aged woman. I’d never seen her before but she appeared to live around the corner from me, just two doors away. She called to me, opened up the back of her car and proceeded to get antiseptics, dressings, cleansing agents, forceps, from a large first aid kit. She told me she was associated with Cooinda. I couldn’t have been more grateful. I didn’t feel like taking myself to the clinic at that stage and thankfully walked around the corner home.

I went to see the doctor the next day and yes, I had skin off my forehead, my nose, above my mouth and two black eyes coming into view. I later found a bruised knee and a skun hand. I wore sun glasses for a day or two and then put up with the sympathetic comments. Incidentally, I discovered that it’s much better to say ‘I tripped over’ or even ‘I fell over’ than to say ‘I had a fall’.

Results:

1. I suddenly felt tremendously vulnerable. I immediately pictured a walking stick, then a walking trolley, then a motorised vehicle. My mind raced ahead with more and bigger ideas.

2. The next day, I left a Thank You card under the windscreen wipers of the grey car around the corner. I live in a court and know every person and, frequently, their visitors and relations. This is hard to believe, but in the two and a half years I have lived in my house, the grey car is almost always in the driveway but I have never seen Tess before or since.

How can I not believe in God’s care!

(No photos available!)

Carmyl Winkler
10:06 am  1 November 2023

Postscript -
​
12.24pm 1 November 2023..."Hi...I had a sudden thought this morning. I just printed out my story and I’m going around the corner to put it under Tess’s windscreen wiper!  Carmyl"

The one moment that stands out for me this year happened about four months ago.   I was browsing Ancestry and typed in my great grandfather's name, ‘Percy Watkinson'. This man has been my “brickwall” over many years.  Initially he seemed to disappear in the late 1890's, with no death certificate to validate his death.  
 
Eventually, this problem was solved by a small personal announcement in Trove stating Percy Watkinson had died in Paris, France on January 7, 1907. 
 
So now I just needed to get a death certificate to authenticate it was the man I was seeking.  I assumed this would just be a matter of contacting the French Births, Deaths and Marriages, paying some money and “Voila”, there it would be.
 
The discovery of Percy’s death whereabouts occurred in 2013. The intervening years have been an education as well as a test of patience. When a person dies in Paris the death is registered at the City Hall of the Arrondissement where the death occurs. I had no way of finding out this information as all the people who may have known were deceased.  
 
So, once again, I put Percy to one side and tried to forget about him.
 
However, from time to time I would type Percy’s name and search in Ancestry or Trove. It seemed to be a hopeless task until this last year, when someone else's family tree popped up and there he was.  But was it him?
 
There were the same parents, but his birthplace was a different country, even though his siblings were born in Germany.  I followed it up and there was a place of death. The date of death was the same and the address was in the Tenth Arrondissement.
 
Armed with this information, I wrote a letter to the City Hall and requested a death certificate, including a stamped self-addressed envelope.  Please note that there was no cost involved.
 
I waited for between six to eight weeks, with frequent trips to our mail box, much to the amusement of my husband. Eventually the envelope arrived and there it was. Now I had positive proof that the certificate was for my man. To add to my joy, one of my fellow classmates in Family Research had found the cemetery where he is buried. 
 
My next trip to Paris will involve a visit to Percy’s grave, but also a visit to the City Hall with a packet of Tim Tams to show my gratitude.
 
Which do you think is my “One Moment This Year”?
 
I chose the finding of his place of death, as the rest was the result of that lucky browse.
 
 
Marg McCrohan
November 2022

It was an early Sunday morning and I was head down in the rose bushes, methodically deadheading spent flowers.

She made a bee line for me from the other side of the road where she had been taking photos of our silo art.

She said, “I have just heard on the radio that if you trim them back you will get more flowers.” From my muffled, bent over position I said “That’s what I’m doing.” and emerged to see a smiling, very well dressed woman beaming at me from the deserted street. Our conversation started with my rose garden. Then we discussed many things, life in general, the Covid 19 pandemic in depth, anti vaxxers, demonstrations, and the fact that people hadn’t really had anything to demonstrate against since our involvement in the Vietnam War.

She said we had been privileged to be comfortable during lockdown but it must have been so hard for people in poorer circumstances who only spoke English as a second language and couldn’t understand.

There is something special about communication with a stranger who you will never meet again; the ‘ships that pass in the night.’  We could exchange our opinions honestly and be listened to without prejudice.

She quietly asked the leading question. “Did you work here in this small town?”  “No, I was a nurse.” She gave a delighted shriek and also pointing to herself, said “I knew it!  I knew as soon as you spoke

Our conversation switched to nursing and back to Covid again. I said the conditions of home schooling were not as bad for children as they were for us in the Second World War. I spoke of silent school children being marched into the trenches. We sat quietly in the dirt in air raid shelters with wooden clothes pegs in our mouths for an hour during Melbourne’s weekly air raid practise. Of fathers being away for years and of not knowing when we left home each morning if we would see our Mother again that day. Plans were in place for the school to be evacuated at a moment’s notice if there was an air raid. Life was very uncertain for us, but we were happy and resilient and accepted it without question because it was all we had.
​
She asked where this was. When I said the Melbourne suburb of Black Rock, there was another delighted shriek. She had also been a child at Black Rock. We knew where each other had lived. We lived in Middleton St which is off Bluff Rd. Her great grandparents had settled in Black Rock when Bluff Rd was just a dirt track.

She had lived in Red Buff St. I laughed and said “I nearly drowned off the Red Bluff when I was seven. We had been told not to swim there because it was dangerous, so of course we never told our parents what had happened!”

In an instant we were transported back to our childhood days. She was younger than me and we were there at different times. Now for both of us we were young friends in a meeting of childhood minds.  We had swum at Half Moon Bay. We went to school at Black Rock and Sandringham
 
It was a case of do you remember. Do you remember the chook farm?  Yes, it was in Tulip St.  Her daughter trained as a nurse at the hospital in Sandringham where she had also worked. My mother worked as a volunteer at a small stall at Sandringham station to raise money to build that hospital.

She told me how happy she felt whenever she thought of her childhood at Black Rock. Her husband approached looking a bit bewildered. When he heard that we both spent our early years at Black Rock he understood.

Reluctantly she left, exclaiming at our chance meeting and I smiled for the rest of the day. I have no idea who she was.   

​Life is like a jigsaw puzzle and the older we get the more pieces fall happily into place.


Bev Morton
November 2022

2021 will be remembered as COVID 19 “year two”. However, like any other year it has had its ups and downs. The moment that stands out for me was when I got a phone call from our son, Declan, to say he was safely in Sydney. He had been given a seat on a repatriation flight from Bangkok. The relief and joy of knowing he was now in the same country was unbelievable. He still had two weeks of quarantine in Sydney to face before we could catch up, but that was just a blip when compared with the months he had spent trying to get back to Australia.

His original flight in May 2020 was cancelled and so began the tortuous process of  booking flights and then being notified of cancellations. In fact, he was about to give up trying to get to Australia and was in the process of returning to Dubai when he was informed about the possibility of repatriation flights being commenced from Bangkok.  He informed his father but suggested it be a secret from me for the time being. He was hoping to arrive back, do his quarantine and turn up as my birthday surprise. Unfortunately, he missed out on the first flight but was in quarantine in Sydney for my birthday- the best present possible.

Declan has spent the last sixteen years working in the Middle East as a University lecturer. When he's not working, he spends time in Thailand and visits us regularly, but Covid19 restrictions impacted his ability to visit us and of course, we could not leave Australia. Normally I am not worried about his wellbeing, but these last two years have put a different slant on things. Prior to this pandemic I was confident that we could visit him if needed and vice versa.

Declan is remaining in Australia at present.  I am enjoying the fact that all our children are presently in the same state and just a two to three hour drive away.

I know this will not last as he will return to Dubai to work when Universities resume face to face teaching.

Whether life will ever return to normal remains to be seen, but at the moment I am 
                    
"Carpe Diem".



​Marg McCrohan
​February 2022

Looking over the last year, COVID dominated our lives.  There were a lot of lows - not being able to visit family, my orphan calf dying after spending months caring for her.  The grandchildren missed having graduation ceremonies, presentation balls and birthday parties, not forgetting the little ones unable to socialise or play in the park after enduring months of home schooling.

However, the highs were numerous too.  We did spend Christmas in 2020 and 2021 together, having a brief break in lockdowns.  We did manage short trips between lockdowns to see friends.

It was a wetter than usual spring and summer, so we planted a vast vegetable garden.  It was a huge success and we picked peas and beans, tomatoes and cucumbers, squash and zucchini, and gave lots away.  The corn was amazing and parsnips, which are notoriously hard to germinate, thrived.

The spring flower garden was our best ever, the bottlebrushes were weighed down with red brushes, and the camellias flourished in the wetter, cooler conditions.  The iris garden which we had worked on for years was an amazing rainbow of pink, blue, purple, yellow and white.  I waited with interest to see how my newly purchased bi-color irises would grow.   Lots of photos were taken to remember this special season.

The pair of thrushes who have nested in a flower pot on top of the hot water service on the back verandah, hatched three chicks.  I was lucky enough to be watching the day they hopped on the lip of the pot and took their first precarious flight.  One made it to the garden shed roof, another got as far as the tree line beyond the back fence, but the third only made it to a bush close by.  It paused, recovered, and followed its mates.  Rain was threatening.  I worried about them out on their own.

The biggest high was at the end of lockdown when our two grandchildren from Melbourne arrived for a visit.  A five and seven year old who love the farm.  From the moment they walked in the door they were at home. 

Thomas had missed his birthday party and I had promised to make a birthday cake on their next visit.  On the way up his mother phoned to remind me, so I hastily made a marble cake, iced it with lashings of chocolate icing and sprinkles.  The cake blowing ceremony was held, seven candles on a separate cake (due to COVID rules), and a huge amount of cake devoured. 

The calves were inspected and the chook house visited in search of eggs.  Peas were ready to pick and pod.  They learned this quickly and were a great help.   

It was a lovely visit.  Caitlin summed it up beautifully by announcing that she was lucky because she had a home in Melbourne and a home in Benalla.


Margaret Nelson
February 2022

The one moment that stood out for me in 2020 was in fact one day. That day was Tuesday 6th October.

Early in the year I had embarked on a project to investigate in more detail, the history of both my maternal and paternal family trees. Part of the process was to locate the resting place of my Australian ancestors. On my paternal family branch of the tree, I located three ancestors who were in unmarked graves. My Great Grandmother, my Grandmother and my Grandfather were all in unmarked graves.

The initial search did locate the grave of my Great Grandfather, James O’Connor in Swan Hill, who died on his property at Ultima in 1903 aged 62, however his wife Janet Margaret, or Jessie as she was known, lived on for many years. She died in 1940 at the age of 92. It appears that she was buried with James, but there was no reference to this on the grave stone. It is somewhat puzzling that her burial place is not marked. She had three daughters and two sons living at the time of her death.  It may have been due to the size of the gravestone and the cost of having it transported to Bendigo and engraved again.

​Further investigation revealed that the cemetery records were incorrect in relation to Great Grandmother’s resting place. The O’Connor family that she was shown as being buried with, were no direct relation to my family. When I presented my evidence to the Swan Hill Cemetery Trust, the records were amended.

In June 2020, suitable plinths were purchased from Benalla Vibrated Concrete Products, and three stainless steel plates were laser engraved by Benalla Trophy Centre. My brother Ken, myself, and two friends made plans to travel to Swan Hill to mark the graves and call on the only surviving auntie from my maternal family, who still lives in the Swan Hill township. The timing of the travel was postponed a number of times due to the Covid restrictions, however on Monday 5th October we travelled to Swan Hill. The region was experiencing some much needed rain, however Tuesday 6th dawned fine, so it was decided to proceed with the plan to clean the existing grave and place the two markers in the region.

My Grandfather, Michael O’Connor died in September 1948, just three months after I was born. He was living in Flemington at the time. The marker for his grave is still in the garage, as his resting place is in the Fawkner Cemetery.  I have been in contact with the Cemetery Trust, however we will wait for a suitable time to travel to Fawkner to place the marker.


Barry O’Connor.
20th February 2021.
 
PS: Anybody planning on a similar exercise should be aware that some cemeteries do charge you for the approval to place grave stones or markers. Fawkner and Manangatang did not charge, however Swan Hill charged $90, and I had to lodge a detailed submission prior to placing the marker. If the application is declined, they keep the $90. ​

Two positive moments stand out in 2020,  although one of them was a few days long.

Our son lives in Tasmania but works in Port Hedland in the Pilbara.  This means firstly that we do not see him very often.  It means travelling to Tasmania during the times that he is home.  And during COVID, we could not visit at all.  At the end of June, he flew back to work from Tasmania, stopping overnight in Melbourne.  This was during the time when travel within Victoria was slightly eased, and shortly before complete shutdown.  It was too good an opportunity.  We drove into Melbourne to join him for dinner.  While we did not see the rest of his family, it was a special moment in a year of restrictions.  It was the first time we had seen him since the previous October…and the last time until exactly now.  The date of the first “As Time Goes by” class coincides with our trip to Launceston to catch up with the family at our grandson’s 18th birthday!  The first time we will have seen them all for nearly 18 months.

Our daughter and her family live in Queensland.  No, we could not visit her either.  A planned trip in May was cancelled.  But that period of eased restrictions at the end of June coincided with the Queensland school holidays.  People from Queensland were able to travel to NSW, and with a permit, able to return home without restrictions.  Two road trips were quickly planned.  Our daughter and family travelled to Byron Bay for a short holiday; we jumped in our car and joined them in Byron Bay for a few days.  A special time spent with family, the first time since Christmas 2019 that we had seen them.  We managed to catch up with other friends on our way back to Victoria, crossing the border just hours before NSW closed its border to Victorians.  We could have stayed on the other side of the border, and not been in lockdown!

And our daughter and granddaughter will be in Tasmania with us.  The boys will stay in Queensland as they had a trip south before Christmas to visit the other grandparents.  So while this is being written before our trip to Tasmania, perhaps this will be a third special moment.
 
Joy Shirley,
February 2021

For me 2020 has been a wasted year. It was the year of my eightieth birthday. I was looking forward to a very special birthday and it didn’t happen. A trip to Queensland to visit my two sons and their families in March had to be cancelled. A last journey back to the land of my birth was out of the question. My daughter and her family had booked a holiday in Iluka, NSW for October and invited me to accompany them. The so-called second wave of Covid-19 in Victoria caused the cancellation of that event.

My family and family celebrations are very important to me. My eight-year-old grandson had his First Holy Communion in Albury, but the border between Victoria and NSW was closed. I missed that special occasion. His older sister had her Confirmation in November. Because of social distancing rules, only her parents and a sponsor was allowed to attend.  Another missed celebration.

This same granddaughter graduated from primary school last night. Only parents and two guests were allowed. After lots of debate her paternal grandfather and me, her maternal grandmother were the chosen candidates. The other two grandparents and her siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins missed out. The whole evening was greatly deflated.

I could go on and on about important events and special occasions that have been sacrificed because of this pandemic. Those special times can never be reclaimed. Younger people may be able to pick up the pieces of their lives but older people like me, can never get back this lost year. We don’t have an excess of years left that we can be complacent about the loss of time.
​
The prompt for this December writing is ‘One Moment, This Year’. All I can focus on are the lost moments that would have been precious to me. The only positive for the whole year was that instead of our Writing Group’s stories being read at meeting sessions, they were printed on line. I have hearing loss and by reading them at my leisure I was able to understand the full content of every story.

I detest the phrase ‘the new normal’ I want the original normal. Let’s not settle for anything else.

Update.

I was awakened by Claudia, our dog barking. I sleepily scrambled from bed to answer the door. It was 7.30am on the 17 December 2020. My daughter was outside the door with a large cardboard box. I opened the door, then went into the lounge and sat down until the sleepiness seeped from my head and my brain began to function. By then my husband had the box. Giving it to me he said “Your Christmas present. I have to give it to you now instead of on Christmas day.” Inside was a beautiful tortoiseshell kitten. She was a cheeky, friendly little animal, immediately making herself at home with our dog, our house, and me.

I have wanted a cat since my last cat died of old age five years ago but my husband thought one pet animal was sufficient at our advanced ages. I never expected such a gift. Being given the sweet little kitten over-rides all the disappointments caused by Covid-19. This was my very special moment. ☺
​
 
Elizabeth Kearns
December 2020