This topic really ignited memories of our journey for the past 7 years.

We were comfortably living in our family home of 18 years in Mt Waverley, when in late 2016, in December, I went to the dentist for the annual checkup.

Whilst doing the normal oral check the dentist discovered a lump in the roof of my mouth and asked “What is this?” I responded and said that it was probably a result of eating something really hot and having burnt the roof of my mouth! She said that she wasn’t happy with the lump and referred me to an Oral Pathologist to do a biopsy and check.

Three weeks later, in early January (4th to be exact, my father’s birthday!!), I received a call from the Oral Surgeon who had done the biopsy, advising that the results were “low grade Muco Epidermoid Carcinoma”. He apologised and said unfortunately he couldn’t do the operation to remove the tumour as he was going to Japan Skiing in January!

He referred me to Royal Melbourne Hospital Oral and Maxillofacial Surgery (OMFS) team.

This was the start of my cancer journey…

However, prior to going for the operation on the 16th February 2017, we were going to attend an Auction for a 2-bedroom apartment, in South Yarra.  

I said to my partner, “Given that I am having a major operation to remove a cancer and don’t know whether I will require further treatment such as Chemotherapy or Radiation therapy as a follow up, do I take the checkbook?”

My partner said, “Take the checkbook!!”

So, we purchased our apartment.  I had the operation, and then had to focus on preparing our home for sale, clearing out 40 years of our ‘stuff’ and putting it into storage. All this happened, we sold our larger home and settled into and renovated our new home…. Busy, busy...

We lived in this 65 SqM apartment for 5-years, in the meantime purchasing a 2-acre block of land in Northern Victoria to tidy up and use as a weekender away from the central city environment.

So, we moved from our apartment, selling this. 

We eventually placed a small cabin on the block, cleared the block up of 20 years of rubbish, and moved there.

So--we moved from 24 squares to 9 squares and now 4 squares (a one BR relocatable dwelling on 2 acres).

This was our ‘Downsizing’ life! 

Another journey was on the way, but this is for another time….

 
James Davey
October 2023

Heather Wallace
​October 2023

​I have been fortunate to have grown up and lived in small rural communities for over 55 years of my life thus far. The early experiences in small communities shaped my broader attitude to life and fellow community members.  Whilst I did leave the smaller communities for the ‘big smoke’ to further my career ambitions, I have always kept in mind the community spirit and self-help co-operation that exists in the ‘bush’.

My father was a master builder, and whilst I had a very early grounding in the building industry, the corporate world paid a lot better, and there was no capital outlay. I have successfully managed multi-million dollar divisions of large international corporations.

Many of my management roles required me to restructure the organisation to return it to a profitable operation. This almost certainly required change management, in which over the years, I became very experienced. I always took the ‘carrot’ approach rather than the ‘stick’. Change management requires that you incentivise staff in order for the desired result to be achieved, and maintained.  These incentives may be a simple, “Thank you, great job”, or a more mercenary incentive of tangible rewards. In any case, all staff must feel like they are contributing equally to a better workplace environment.

In the years since my ‘retirement’ I have been able to inject some of this experience and expertise as, and when, required. Country people don’t appreciate those who go around boasting about their achievements, and I have been well aware of that. I tend to maintain a low profile until I see a situation progressing into an area that may cause some adverse consequences for the organisation, or the broader community. This is where I will generally make a quiet suggestion to key decision makers of the community, to consider what the consequences may be if they do not ensure that the benefits will flow to the broader membership, not just a few selfish, self-centred individuals.

On 1st January 2012 the whole structure of regulations surrounding community organisations changed.  The new Government regulations placed volunteers under the same regulations and work place requirements as paid employees, or workers as they were described in the legislative changes. One of the hardest aspects of this change was to have the mind set of longer term community volunteers accept the new regulations. I have however, been reasonably successful in bringing about change, which will serve our community organisations into the future. One of these organisations was the Country Fire Authority.

​
Barry O’Connor.
2nd October 2023

THIS

​The Morris Family Tree recently ticked over 8,000 relatives and one cameo appearance of a second cousin, twice removed, caught my fancy.  At its core is altruism, but not quite Carmyl's daring do of a "dead hero".

Sarah Elizabeth WALKER, known as Craigie, Birrdhawa Country, in the nascent country of Australia in 1904.  Craigie, boasting a school and nothing else, is a farming area 22km from Bombala.  Juxta-positioned near the Black - Allen Line, and on the Monaro Highway, the main route from NSW to Victoria.

Her paternal grandfather was a convict and the only picture of her mother, coming from strong Wesleyan stock, is of her touching a bible.  One strongly suspects her mother's influence, coupled with the mores of the day, made religion a central part of Sarah's life.

Her father, from Sydney, leased land at Craigie and the propinquity theory of marriage holds true, meeting and marrying her mother Clara in 1893 in Bombala.  Whatever the circumstances, Sarah found herself in Sydney as a house maid, later meeting and marrying Ernest DANIELS in 1924.

From 1928, Sarah resided at 16 McFarland Road, Merrylands, now a conurbanised suburb, 25Km west of Sydney.  They had one child, James, born in 1926.  Ernest, a chiar maker, died in 1943 and Sadie did not remarry.

The only information about her life in Merrylands is gleaned from a plaque honouring her.  She and her husband were active and well respected in the community, a meaningless statement with no sources or activities cited.  She was renowned for her fine needlewrk beading and her love of writing, including poety and religious verse.

Sadie dies on 4th November 1981 at 16 McFarland Road, Merrylands and leaves no other mark of her life until the reading of her will.

Sadie bequeaths 16 McFarland Road, now in the middle of the shopping precinct, to Holroyd Municipal Council to be used as an open space for the elderly.  James, her son, does not receive his cadastral inheritance.  One would need to be Sherlock Holmes to fathom the reasons, so it remains tacit.

The bequest's reasons probably has its genesis in the tenuous religious thead previously mentioned.  Did Sadie in her older years have the foresight to see a need for the elderly, and now for all comers?  Perhaps.  The land was developed as an open space in 1985 and refurbished in 2011 to a functional rest area, 'Sarah Daniels Court'.

Today 16 McFarland Road is opposite the vast Stocklands Shopping Complex and 220m from Merrylands Railway Station and Bus Terminus.  Well done, Sadie.  
​

Graeme Morris
​October 2022

Obituary of Heather

As an unofficial historian I would like to try and give an essence of Heather.

Heather was always optimistic.  Tolerant of human beings, she didn’t judge people harshly. Well not openly, out loud. She was friendly to a large proportion of the population.

In turn, Heather was liked by most people who met her. She had a fairly full social life, belonged to many groups and fitted well into the wider community. She would have had a mitigating effect if any of her groups showed signs of extreme behaviour. Always quick to laugh, she could always easily defuse a tricky situation.

Heather started life living in a house the King Valley side of the cutting. This was quite a crude house. It did not enjoy many amenities. The inside was not fully lined. It had a limited supply of cold water. Heather enjoyed living here. This house is nestled in between the River and the Hill.  It is close to both. She claimed she could go into the bush whenever she wanted. She might have done this in secret. But most likely she would have done it with her siblings and relatives of which she had lots.

In time her family moved about two miles down the road to the house that is still in the family. This house was on 30 acres and close to the river. You could always hear the river at night. A clearing sale was held on the day they moved in. They had already purchased the property. The clearing sale was in the afternoon. They slept in the house that night. They had to move quickly because there were 20 cows to be milked twice every day. The cows came with the property. In time they also kept pigs. The pigs were the responsibility of Heather’s mother.  Both her mother and father milked the cows, but her father worked off the farm as much as possible as an agricultural labourer or casual worker in industry.

Heather’s Father was Scottish. His name was Tom. He came from Paisley. Tom wasn’t hollywood Scottish. He never wore a kilt. He admitted however to having a connection with Robbie Burns and his family had kept intact a pair of Burn’s breeks. Tom had had a privileged upbringing until the time his mother broke with his father. The father was a serious drinker and was inclined to go on benders which lasted sometimes for weeks. Tom’s sympathies were with his mother. The family breakup however meant Tom’s life changed forever. The business which gave them a comfortable living came to an abrupt end. Tom had to leave school before school leaving age and get a job. In later life he would recall in detail how much he had loved school and how much he missed school. How he sometimes would stand outside the school and watch the pupils going in. Tom could quote Shakespeare. He could quote Wordsworth. Tom’s family did not get back together and in time it was decided that he would come to Australia and join his relatives in the King Valley. He came to Melbourne by boat and then train to King Valley. He claimed the train journey from Wangaratta to King Valley lasted approximately the same time as the journey from Melbourne to Wangaratta. The train stopped at all 12 stations. Sometimes for an hour.

Heather’s mother belonged to a musical family. Her name was Edith, but she was called Edie. There was a Laffy family band composed of Edie’s father, two brothers, and sister, but Edie never sang with the band. She sang solo songs which highlighted her voice. Her singing career went on long after the Laffy family band split up. She would often be asked to sing at public occasions. She would sometimes take part in talent quests run by the local radio station. All her relatives and friends would listen with interest when this happened. A vinyl record was made of one of her appearances.

Heather did not always get on with her mother. She once ran away from home, or more correctly rode away on her bike. She took refuge with her Aunt and came extolling a list of complaints. The middle verandah had to be swept. The kitchen floor needed to be washed. The beds had to be made and she was expected to do it all. Quickly, however, Edie was notified, and the conversation turned to how fast Heather had ridden. She had travelled 8 miles in an hour. How fast was she going?

Heather had a full working life until she got married and she then became a full-time housewife. She was good at this occupation. Excelled at it even. She got on well with her husband David and in time they raised two well-adjusted children. David and Heather had many adventures. David had several careers in various industries. Heather always supported him. It can be stated that Heather and David were soul mates. They appreciated each other in the deepest sense. If any marriage can be described as successful, then theirs can. This wasn’t all David’s fault. Heather had a hand in it as well.

In late middle age during a bout of illness Heather gave up smoking cold turkey. She had been a reasonably heavy smoker quite attached to the joys of smoking. She was never tempted to revert.

Heather was always generous to her relatives and friends. She always welcomed people to visit, was always accommodating if people wanted a meal or to stay the night. This was her strength. It was not always openly appreciated but it was always understood. It’s a cliché, but if anyone was generous to a fault, then Heather would qualify…

 
Neville Gibb
October 2022

I have never lived anywhere longer than nine years.

As Dad was badly affected by his experiences in the war, he needed to work outside so got farm work in the UK. A cottage was a part of his wages.

We moved around several farms before the big adventure, we came to Australia to start a new life. We started in the South-West of W.A. in a small mill town, then moved to a nearby regional town. Then up to the hills area North of Perth.

Then, after a brief period in the city my family settled in Mandurah, a coastal town South of Perth. They settled I didn’t.

I had left school and was working, so I moved to the big city. I boarded, I shared flats; I got live in jobs; I moved a lot.

I headed off on a cruise back to the UK to reunite with family. In the UK I lived with one Aunt, then another, then a rooming house whilst I worked and travelled.

Another cruise and I was home in Australia again.

I joined the RAAF which meant, once again, I was off and moving.  I lived in all states of Australia, some multiple times and somewhere along the line, got married and moved out of on base rooms to a house.

Even after leaving the RAAF, we just kept moving following new opportunities until settling here in Benalla (for now!!!!!).


Heather Hartland,
October 2022

Two little boys.  

Both boys aged 5 and three quarters, living on opposite sides of the globe, both born in the latter half of 1948.
​
One little boy dressed in his finest by his mum, sent out with a hug and a kiss to experience the world. That day he would see the Queen and excitedly have much to tell his mum returning to her open arms. This little boy would have a story read by his dad before dropping fast asleep, feeling very special.
​
On the other side of the world, the other little boy, would be dressed in majesty. He would already know that he was Special but would not wake to a hug from his mum nor fall asleep after a story from his dad. In fact his mum and dad were also on the other side of the world, waving at that other little boy. The Special little boy would fall asleep alone, wondering if he was really special after all.

These two boys, travelling similar paths, would be surprised as to how their lives would mirror.  They would both tail-end their secondary education with an empowering experience of outdoor training and confidence building. Traversing tertiary education, which highlighted their strengths and deficits, they would be drawn to the natural and built environment, and ultimately be led to the realization that an academic career was not to be their calling. They would both become public advocates experiencing derision and criticism, yet growing stronger through the process.

These two young men would marry and ultimately divorce. They would know love and heart break. Each would celebrate the birth of two sons who in turn would present to their fathers, five glorious grandchildren.

The two sons of each father would be nurtured with strong values and high self-esteem. They would confidently and individually create a place in the world reflecting their skills, passions and inheritance. Yet each of the sons would be impacted by loss and grief, for that which was and what might have been.

These sons would also carry a legacy from their fathers’ mistakes and missteps and discover the loneliness that is part of the human condition. Through a cauldron of emotions they would affirm their individual paths, leaving almost irreconcilable differences between the individual brothers. And their fathers would watch at times immobilized by an acknowledgement that a father’s words and responses offered no salve or comfort.

It is now 2022. These two young boys are now well into their 70’s. Grey-haired and with faces grooved deeply by the tread marks of time, both living a faith deepened by experience, having left behind the burden of creeds, dogmatism and ideology. They have become clearer as to what is important but at times struggle with their own vulnerabilities and idiosyncrasies.  Self doubt does not evade them, yet they appear to move confidently ahead, acknowledging love, friendships and the companionship of fellow travelers. Rejoicing and grateful for the gifts they have received.   


Graham Jensen
​October 2022

I’m not superstitious, but the number thirteen crops up remarkably often in my life. A lot of people dodge thirteen, consider it unlucky, but I think of it as my lucky number.
 
Firstly, I remember passing my last year 12 subject, Modern History, on 13th January, back in the days when the results came out in the daily paper (The Argus if I remember correctly.) I’d never been very fond of the subject and had a teacher who didn’t really make it an exciting subject.
 
I passed my driver’s licence on the 13th of March. I was so nervous. Cars back in the 60’s were manual, and traffic signals were given by hand, rain, hail or shine. The hand brake start was tested on the railway station ramp.  I had one of the strictest police in Benalla that day, with the reputation of regularly failing people. All good!  I passed.
 
We were married on the 13th of February. It was a humid sticky day threatening to storm. However, it held off till the photos were taken outside the church and the last guests were inside the reception, then it bucketed down. Luckily it cleared by the time we came outside again.  It must have been a lucky day as we are still together after 60+ years.
 
Our first grandchild was born on a thirteenth, an emergency caesarean, and a healthy baby.
 
On our visit to USA, we went out to Grand Canyon.  On seeing helicopter flights available over the canyon, we decided it would be the best way to see it.  This was very exciting, having never been in one before. On alighting we did the touristy thing and had our photos taken beside the helicopter. On looking back at the photo later we were amazed to see it was Number 13. I bet a lot of people dodged that one!  Also, on the plane trip back to Vegas, we had seats 12, 13 and 14.
 
The only raffle I can remember winning was Number 13. It was at the first Camellia Society Christmas party.  Ray was asked to draw the winning ticket.  Imagine our embarrassment when he drew my ticket!
 
On a humorous note, a farming acquaintance of ours bought a new farm ute. His wife, a rather superstitious woman, warned him not to get 13 in the number plate. He duly arrived home with the new ute to be greeted with “I told you not to get 13 on the number plate”. It was ABC148, which added up to 13. I hope it didn’t bring them any bad luck!
​
 
Margaret Nelson

I sat on my favourite chair churning through Geraldine Brooks’ new book, ‘Horse’.
​
I’d fixed up the emails, made the soup and seized the book. There were still a number of things on my Wednesday list but I should be able to fit in a couple of chapters before lunch called.

Tempted to start just one more chapter, I said out loud, ‘That’s enough Carmyl. Do something!’ and suddenly I knew what my memoir topic would be.

When I was at primary school, I didn’t have a deadline to get out of bed. But I did have an inverted deadline. No reading before 7 o’clock. We had no clock in our bedroom so I’d call out, ‘Is it 7 o’clock yet?’ My mother would reply from the next bedroom, ‘Not yet’. Eventually the magic hour would come and out came the latest library book. I always seemed to get to school on time so I guess I did fly around after I’d whipped through a few chapters, but there’s a very special place in my memory for, ‘Is it 7 o’clock yet?’

When I was about eight, my mother produced a book which she suggested I read. I couldn’t remember any other book that had been thrust upon me but I was quite open to anything with a cover and pages to turn. Its name was The Cradle Ship and I found out some time later that it was supposed to cover any sex education needs. It started with plants and moved on to insects and animals with a small closing chapter on humans and I found it quite uninteresting and certainly didn’t get any message it was intended to convey.
​
On to High School. I can hardly believe it as I was always a very obedient student except on the odd occasion I took it upon myself to correct the teacher, but one day, in year 8, I was reading a book under the desk when the teacher came along and confiscated it. It was all the more embarrassing as its title was ‘Always Love’. The fact that it was a Sunday School prize and far from a hot romance didn’t seem quite appropriate to explain at the time.

I delayed joining the CAE book group at Tallangatta because of the yearly fee at a time of our lives when money wasn’t plentiful, but after a year I decided it was a priority. I realised that the group forced me into reading books I wouldn’t normally choose.

My favourite authors include Barbara Kingsolver, Tracey Chevalier and especially Geraldine Brooks. A few of these books are non-fiction but many of the others are historical fiction, based on real events or people and discovering which parts are true is a bonus.

The brilliant Benalla library and its ability to order virtually any book you ask for has sufficed my appetite for now and I have resisted rejoining a book group.

I am so grateful for books and the learning, the comfort and the joy they have brought to my life.


Carmyl Winkler

​​It is with some regret that I admit to having lived 90 years with the feeling of envy.  Envy that I never experienced the love of a mother or the enjoyment of a family life with my five siblings.
 
I was the youngest of the family and my mother died when I was 4 years old.
 
My father was an alcoholic and his sisters determined that he could not adequately care for his family.
 
Consequently my 6 years old brother, Basil, and I were packed off to Villa Maria in Ballarat East. I always regarded Villa as a home for the disadvantaged, even though it was gazetted as a boys’ boarding school.
 
We both remained until grade 8 when we received our “Merit Certificates”. We had not enjoyed our time at Villa. The nuns, the Sisters of Mercy, did not live up to the title of “mercy”.
 
School holidays were spent with Uncle Ned and Aunty Mary Caine at Swanwater. Mary was Dad’s sister, but never showed us any affection. On the other hand, Uncle Ned was a loving man.
 
On receiving my Merit Certificate in 1944 I was deemed to be too small to enter the work force and, living at Caine’s, went to the Swanwater North State school to re-do grade 8 and sit for a scholarship. I was successful and the scholarship entitled me to tutorial and accommodation at St. Patrick’s College, also in Ballarat, where I obtained my “Leaving Certificate”.
 
On leaving the college, I got a job with the Stock and Station firm of Victorian Producers Co-Op (VPC). My first posting was to Benalla, where I became acquainted with the Hernan family, comprising John and Francie and their 7 children. They gave me the “home” which I had never known. Also, the Elliots, who put on a “surprise” birthday party for me on my 21st.
 
I worked for 17 years with the VPC, spent at Benalla (1950 - 1955) St.Arnaud (1955 - 1958) Wodonga (1958 - 1961)  Melbourne Head Office (1961 - 1963) Benalla (1963 - 1967).
 
In St. Arnaud and Wodonga I boarded in hotels.  I succumbed to the ready availability of alcohol and, to my detriment, became a regular drinker. However, I retained my strong work ethic.
 
On the bright side, I joined the Wodonga Bowling Club and have been a lawn bowler, now, for over 60 years.
 
While in Melbourne I was reunited with my older brother John.  I lived the happiest years of my life, up till then, with John and his family.  The exception was that  I suffered multiple internal injuries, a depressed fracture of the skull and brain damage in a motor accident. I still bear the scars.
 
On returning to Benalla, I became re-acquainted with Bernadette and married her in 1967.  We built our own home and raised 4 wonderful children who all graduated at university and are now successful in their chosen fields. We have 11 grandchildren.
 
Now I have the family life which I sorely missed as a child.

From the early to mid 70s, Bernadette and I fostered an infant relative who'd lost her mother to cancer.  We were heart broken some years later when her father remarried and claimed her.
 
In 1967 I changed jobs, and, after intensive study, I entered a business partnership as a Chartered Accountant. The partnership survived a fraudulent office manager, and the 1993 floods, and prospered.
 
In 1971 Bernadette and I purchased the Benalla Coin Laundrette as an extension to our business interests. We sold it in 1988 after an interesting 17 years.  In 1986 we, together with four other parties, formed the River Gums Estate syndicate which developed and sold 150 residential blocks in the south-eastern corner of Benalla.
 
Regrettably, in the 1970s I mourned the deaths of my two best friends, Kevin Hernan and Bill Keenan.
 
I retired from business in the year 2000 and became more intense in my community involvement, resulting in an Order of Australia Medal in the Queen’s Birthday Honours list of 2013, “For service to the community of Benalla”.
 
Over a lifetime we have enjoyed holidays and travel in every state and territory of Australia.  In retirement we went on 6 Pacific Island and New Zealand cruises and travelled overseas to the British Isles, Europe, Scandinavia and St. Petersburg.
 
I continued my involvement with the Benalla bowling club, where I am a “life member”, and the Rotary Club where I am a “Paul Harris Fellow” and an “honorary member”.
 
U3A and Probus have played important roles in my retirement, and I am gradually easing out.
 
In May 2022 I celebrated my 90th birthday and now I relax in contentment, and am constantly aware of, and accept, my own mortality.
 
It has, indeed, been a long - and fulfilling - life.
​
 
Ray O’Shannessy      
September 2022

​There are some things that become indelibly burnt into your brain. Like the towering green bull bar of a greenfreight log truck coming at you on a sharp bend of a mountain road; or the huge legs and paws of a polar bear sweeping it along as it races across the snow at your sledge. Although they are memories that will live with me forever they were quickly dealt with, therefore not really a matter of courage.

It’s the insidiously little things that lurk in the back of your mind. One of my first memories is my sister saying that she was frightened of heights. I know that for me it’s not natural to be uncertain of my ability to handle heights. Its irrational learnt behaviour and I don’t know when it will strike.

It came into my adult life unexpectedly.  After a freezing cold night camped in Victoria’s high Alps we were sitting in the sunshine on top of a range they call ‘The Crosscut Saw.’ It was just a narrow path with a drop on either side. I was happy, until I stood up and froze on the spot. My companions said “How did she get up here, if she can’t get down?” It was irrational.
​
Irrational fear of heights presents itself suddenly when balance and confidence are required, like having to walk carefully across a narrow plank to board a ship that is anchored on the far side of another.

At Oban in Scotland, the tide had gone out and it wasn’t possible to use the gangway to board the ship. They called up to me from about three metres down in the bows, “You will have to Jump.”  There was no time to think, just do it and land like a baby elephant.

But be careful of what you say, it will come back to haunt you.  In North East Greenland I was known as an experienced dog sledge traveller, but the rot set in when I travelled with Jonas Pike. He was a lithe young hunter with a good team and he could place those dogs anywhere.

I made the mistake of telling him that his sledge was a magic carpet and for the next week he did his best to prove it. We would stop for our lunch break on the top of a small island frozen in the pack ice of the Greenland Sea or beside a steep drop onto the fjord below. The other sledges would be facing the path down again, but Jonas’s team and sledge would be facing a cliff.  “Why aren’t you eating all your lunch?” I would answer that I was not really hungry!

When we leave Jonas leaps onto the back of the sledge to balance it. The dogs need no urging, they have no fear of heights. With a sudden burst of speed they propel themselves joyfully out over the edge. Bodies tense and twisting in mid air, tails held out for balance, legs and feet reaching for the snow below.  The fast moving sledge is propelled horizontally until gravity takes over and we glide down behind them. Paws taking hold and the dogs are away, racing downhill.  
​
One memorable occasion occurred when we were going to board a helicopter that was out on the sea ice. “Bev, go with Ziggy.” I get on the back of the skidoo and he heads for the cliff edge! He stops and says “I don’t think I can do that.” That was close!


Bev Morton
October 2021

There are so many photographs!  Where to start?  With a goal of adding at least one photo to ancestry.com a day I have found myself immersing myself in the lives of two great aunts, ‘Auntie Beat’ (b 1872) and ‘Auntie Min’ (b 1877).  

​‘Auntie Beat’, my eldest maternal great aunt, never married, looking after her parents until they died, then living with nieces and nephews’ families until she passed away.  My only memory of Aunty Beat is peeping into a bungalow to see her while holidaying with an aunt who was caring for her not long before she died.  Two recent finds - a beautiful carte de visite from the early to mid 1880's in a battered album of the day and a loose photo, on the back of which is written ‘Beatrice Hooper – the eldest’.  A dressmaker, Beat is wearing a dark trimmed check dress, standing in front of a rose bush.  It was probably taken in the early 1900’s.  Photographs found in her scrapbook which suggest that she may have travelled with a theatre company to New Zealand.  While most of her younger sisters were dancers with J C Williamson’s, perhaps, being a dressmaker, she was in the wardrobe department?  There is a wonderful photo of Beat playing cards with a group of friends, another in an outfit suggesting she may have been a suffragette! ​

I now feel quite ‘resolved’ about the representation of Auntie Beat’s page on ancestry which now includes photos across her life span, including some in which she appears to be enjoying time spent travelling with friends. ​

‘Aunty Min!’ Do you have a person in public life in your family tree who other relatives all lay claim to?  ‘Auntie Min’ is that person in our family.   Family stories of her abound across the generations.  ‘Auntie Min’, my grandmother’s older sister Minnie Hooper, became quite famous as a choreographer and ballet mistress for JC Williamson and is remembered for having taught Robert Helpmann to dance.  While I have many photos of Auntie Min, until my visit to the farm last weekend they were almost all quite theatrical, revealing little of her life. 

I’d met Auntie Min when visiting Sydney as a child and remember her as a rather serious woman of considerable wealth who lived in a house looking over Sydney Harbour which had a path down to a private boat ramp.  I remember her son, John Rose, as being quite eccentric.  John was always described by my mother as a change of life baby, born after Min’s husband, Ernest Rose, then aged 51, had already had a stroke. 

Family research revealed that Min, who had married ‘Uncle Ern’ at 20, had two little boys who only lived for a few months during her twenties, followed by decades working in the theatre, before having a baby, John, at aged 46.  John was born with a disability which affected his development, and Min’s beloved husband died at 59 when John was 8 years old leaving her to care for John. Janette’s envelope for Auntie Min contains portraits of Uncle Ern pasted on a textured card and a portrait of John in early adulthood. 

​The photo in the envelope which somehow provides a deeper glimpse into their lives is a photo of Min and Ern sitting together, reading material in their hands.  Ern appears to be convalescing.  It is an evocative photo in which Min looks less severe than I remember her in latter years.  

​Adding this photo, and the portraits of Ern and John, to their profiles on ancestry a day or two ago, ‘rounded off’ my ‘time travels’ with Auntie Min’s family—at least for the moment. 
  
With Covid moving from pandemic to endemic, I’m likely to continue to lead a quiet life.  Underlying chronic illnesses have already impacted on my capacity to travel to places in which my ancestors lived to find out more, and now Covid! 

However, I can always resort to time travelling!


Beverley Lee
October 2021

I have for some time been totally confused by the mixed messages we have been receiving about Covid 19, the effects, and the complications. The complexity of the confusion has not been helped by a lack of accurate information, the fact that some politicians appear to be playing games with the welfare of the community, and a failure to explain the full story behind the treatment of the community in Victoria. In a word, a lack of ‘accountability’, from our elected representatives and some senior public servants. From the outset, I have seen inept, inconsistent and contradictory decision making.
 
19th March 2020: 2,700 passengers released from the ‘Ruby Princess’ in Sydney without Covid testing.
 

• Lockdown 1: March 30 to May 12, 2020 — 43 days

 
6th June 2020: A protest march was held in Melbourne with an estimated 10,000 people in attendance. The State Government took no action against the protesters, other than to fine the three organisers $1,652 each.
 
26th June 2020: On this day, during a media interview, it was revealed that the ‘health experts’ had released over 5,600 people from quarantine in Victoria, without testing them for Covid. The Deputy Chief Medical Officer explained during a press interview, that she was acting on a National Protocol. This ‘protocol’ had obviously not been reviewed in light of the Ruby Princess issues that had occurred three months earlier. In this case 2,700 passengers were released in Sydney without testing. They travelled to all states and territories in Australia, and were then credited with 696 active cases spread across the country, with 20 directly attributed deaths.
 

• Lockdown 2: July 8 to October 27, 2020 —111 days

 
During this time our active cases had been rolling along at a relatively low daily rate, until we passed through the 14 to 21 day window after the protest march, when the numbers increased dramatically. The Government officials denied any connection, however in a media conference the NSW Chief Commissioner of Police, stated that he had reliable information that much of the outbreak was connected to the march and the lockdown of the Maribyrnong housing towers. The Government denied any connection; however they did state in a written media release on 14th July, that five new cases had been linked to the illegal protest on 6th June.
This is some 38 days after the event??  The following day it was revealed that there were a total of nineteen active cases connected with the protest march. There were no more figures in connection with the march released after 15th July.
 

• Lockdown 3: February 12 - 17, 2021 —5 days – followed by severe restrictions.

From the ABC website: The 13 cases so far are all directly linked to the Melbourne Airport Holiday Inn quarantine hotel, involving either returned travellers, hotel quarantine staff or their close contacts. But it's the speed of transmission of the UK variant that's deeply concerning Victoria's health authorities.
"This is the most infectious strain of coronavirus we have seen," Mr Andrews said as he announced the snap shutdown, which he compared to recent shutdowns in Brisbane and Perth.
25th April, Anzac Day. Victoria’s Chief Medical Officer, Professor Brett Sutton, signed off in the previous week to an increased capacity of 85,000 for the Sunday match. The MCG allegedly hosted the biggest sporting crowd in the world since the COVID-19 outbreak, for the Anzac Day AFL clash between Collingwood and Essendon. Crowd attending, 78,000.
Four weeks later Victoria is in lockdown again.

• Lockdown 4: May 27 - June 10, 2021 — 14 days

From the ABC Website: The Victorian government has announced a seven-day lockdown in a bid to curb the state's growing coronavirus outbreak.
The state's outbreak has now reached 26 cases, with 11 new cases recorded from Wednesday to Thursday. Around 14,000 Victorians are either required to quarantine for 14 days, or test and isolate until negative. One of the cases was in hospital on a ventilator, but it is understood they were moved out of intensive care on Thursday night.

• Lockdown 5: July 15 - 27, 2021 — 12 days

From the ABC website: Premier Daniel Andrews has confirmed the Victoria-wide snap lockdown with "a heavy heart" after two more local COVID-19 cases were recorded this afternoon.
It brings the state's outbreak to 18. The entire state will be locked down from 11:59pm tonight until 11:59pm next Tuesday. It is the fifth lockdown since the pandemic began and the third this year.
Mr Andrews said contact tracers and public health experts were moving faster than they ever had and were doing a "brilliant job". But he said the speed of spread of the virus meant cases could "ultimately get away from us". The premier said the state had no choice but to enter a "short, sharp lockdown."Key points:

• Victoria will be locked down from 11:59pm tonight (15th July) until 11:59pm next Tuesday.
• Two more cases were announced this afternoon linked to the MCG and Maribrynong apartments.
• There's no guarantee the lockdown will end after five days, but restrictions in regional Victoria may end earlier.

 

• Lockdown 6: August 5 - October 26, 2021 — 82 days

 
From the ABC website: Victoria has entered its sixth lockdown in response to unexpected new mystery cases of COVID-19 in recent days. Eight new cases of COVID-19 were reported in the state on Thursday, with six of those from results received on Wednesday.
 
Premier Daniel Andrews described the decision to lock down again as "very difficult".
"I can't tell you how disappointed I am to have to be here doing this again," he said.
"But with so few in the community with one vaccination, let alone two, I have no choice but to accept advice, and we collectively [have] to make this important decision to keep Victorians safe.
"The alternative is we let this run … away from us and our hospitals will be absolutely overwhelmed [with] not hundreds of patients but thousands."
 
Lockdown ended early on 22nd October due to high vaccination rates.
 
Victoria currently has new case numbers hovering around 2,000 per day, and the Premier has opened up the state??? I refer to the statements made by the Premier above, in relation to the hospital caseloads.
 
Announced on Sunday 24th October: From Friday 29th October, all Victorians will be free to travel around the state. But stay tuned for when Victorians will be able to travel to another state of this ‘Commonwealth’.
 
The Covid vaccine will not stop us contracting the disease, or transmitting it. It will however, significantly improve our chances of surviving from it.
 
PS: I have yet to locate any explanation of how many thousands of people managed to get onto passenger aircraft and cruise ships around the world in early 2020, whilst infected, but not symptomatic? This did not happen by accident!
 
 
Barry O’Connor.
October 2021.
 

​At the end of the day it was her habit to go over what had happened. She did not keep a diary but she found by going over everything it was more likely that she could remember things. And she could remember where they had been.

After all lots of things were happening.

She had spent the previous night in the sleeping compartment of a luxury train. She had not expected to do this. They had diverted from the official plan. They had been scheduled to stay for two days on a large farm where they could relax and be more or less alone. But it was explained that they were way behind schedule and they had to make up two or more days.

So she and her husband were kept on the train.

The carriage was special and had two bathrooms. So both she and her husband were able to have separate bathrooms. They were at either end of the carriage. This suited her fine. Their bedroom and sitting room was in the middle of the carriage. It had windows that could be made completely private. If required it could could be completely blacked out to simulate darkness. It was truly a luxury carriage and had all the facilities. She could lock the doors from inside. She felt quite safe. This was important to her.

The train had been diverted to a country station and had stopped for them to spend the night in a rural area. She and her husband had been left alone. More or less to rely on their own resources. This suited them fine. Her husband was tired and after a light supper had gone to bed early. She stayed up doing a little reading and writing letters home to her family.

She was kept fully in touch by the people at home so she never felt she was neglecting her family. But she tried to do as much as she could and kept up a daily correspondence to everyone.

Early next morning she had been woken up by hearing schoolchildren singing school songs in the distance. She could not see them but they sounded nice even though they were a little distance away.

They were brought their breakfast from the nearest railway station. Her husband was not fussy about food and enjoyed these unexpected treats. She herself was slightly wary as she was very careful about what she ate and tried to keep healthy at all times. Still she was able to pick and chose and had a satisfactory breakfast.

They were ready to leave by 10AM.

The train would be sent on and would pick them up later in the afternoon.

They were transferred to an open car and driven through the local town. Even out in these rural areas there were large crowds. The car went quite slowly and the crowds milled quite close to the road. She waved to the crowd.

When the car left the town it speeded up and the hood was put up. They had some distance to go before they arrived at the next town. This town was larger than what they had left and there were several things that were scheduled.

They had to alight from the car at the main Railway Station and attend an official reception. There were several speeches from local dignitaries. She had been made aware of the schedule before they left for the morning. One speech went on for longer than it should have. She knew this because she always took note of the times allocated for speeches. She looked into the faces of those attending. She heard people talking but she didn't really pay attention. Not that she meant to be rude. She had heard it all before. She was not scheduled to speak today and no speech had been prepared for her.

She and her husband got back in the car and they were driven through the streets of the town. There were large crowds and they cheered as they went past. Finally went through some gates saying Showgrounds and they ended up in a cricket ground. She could see the pitch laid out in the middle of the ground. She found this somehow comforting. She wondered how often they played here and when they were playing next.

There were crowds of schoolchildren ringing the cricket ground. The car took them on a circuit of the ground just inside the fence. The children waved and her husband waved back. She used her official wave that her father had taught her.

For the schoolchildren it was over very quickly.

But all the children were happy. It was a day out.

And they were given a medallion that said they had attended a meeting with the Queen.

I know cause I was there.

But she herself was not aware of this. So she could not commit it to memory later that night.

Neville Gibb
October 2021

The moon was full and we could hear the sound of running footsteps. We hid behind cars and crouched down beside wheels. We hid beside lamposts and waited for the chaser to be distracted as he or she found another runner. The sound of the footsteps as they clattered across gutters and down laneways. The bluestones making the sound of frantic escape past back gates and running into the light of the street light at the end of the lane. Enjoying the warmth of the Summer evening and the chase.

We didn't need the street lights; just the moonlight and all the kids running, hiding being found and then running, hiding again. The doors of the homes finally opening onto the street. No more than two metres off the footpath and the voices calling; Michael, Peter, Valda, Helen; come home now it is bedtime.

And the night became quiet in North Fitzroy as the kids in Egmont Street went inside for their evening drink before bed. Mine as always milk and sugar. Warm and comforting; then into bed with the wireless and a good book. But the memory of the night of adventure in the back streets of North Fitzroy etched in the memory bank to be pulled out and used when a magical personal moment was required.

My love of this time of day extended into my substantial life of memories and moments to love. It even extended into my game, tennis. Sitting watching the night come over the courts after a lovely day of activity and laughter. The light and the softness of the day sliding into night. The accomplishment of achieving another day to cherish and look into for a marvellous life in later years.

Camping on the Peninsula and the wonderful evenings after a hot day of beach, sailing and friendship. The camp lights coming on in each of the individual camps. People bringing their beach chairs out to sit and chatter about their lives and the day past. The kids disappearing into the fading light. Running as a gang in and out of camps and finding enough light to climb rocks and walk on the pier or just sit around talking. Groups and groups and groups of people who were friends enjoying each other laughing talking, opening bottles of win and laughing some more. And after a day of living in the hot sun; the joy of the evening cool taking us all back to our day gone and another day coming. Knowing our kids were safe within ear shot (So we believed) and finally calling: Okay kids bedtime; and they came knowing that tomorrow was another day of the same. Beach, sun, surf and sailing. And at nightfall we would reflect and store the memories of the day.

I sat on my deck in complete silence in later years; the sun had slid out and the creek was making noises and now and again I could hear a sheep or a dog calling. The nightbirds calling. But mostly it was quiet; with just the creek making the sound as the night crept over the hill in front of the home. Silent, close and safe. Another beautiful memory to pop into my memory bank. No kids by then. All gone! Off into their own lives. To return now and again and share the quiet of the evening light sliding into darkness with their own children.

And Now: Walking the dogs through the streets of this country town. Nearly dark, but not quite there yet. A warm evening turning cool as we walked. Quiet, still and nearly devoid of traffic. The lights in the homes taking over the view as they came on. Walking past some front doors I can hear the TV noises. But mostly just quiet and calm; and so very beautiful. My footsteps the only sound as the sound changed with the changing surfaces of the footpath. My dogs walking  comfortably on their leads ; enjoying the cool and the darkness which came to us  as we approached home.

You might realise I love that time of the day. It is the best time of the day.  Because the day is done with and there is no regret to look back on; except living a life. And the town offers the beauty of community. Quietly hiding behind the lights of the houses. The soft evening air cooling me after a hot day. The light of the night engulfing and holding its most beautiful time.  The transition of evening to night. So soft; so fulfilling. A pleasure, a privilege in living. And knowing it will all come again; the softness, the darkness and the coolness of a beautiful evening.


Helen Duggin
21 November 2020

October 2020 and COVID-19. ‘This restricted life.’ ‘This incredibly boring life.’ I could write long essays on those topics, but just thinking of them and living them is gloomy enough. Writing and reading about them would be inexcusable, so I have meandered back in time to when in my life was busy and fulfilling.

Desiring to live a rural lifestyle, my husband, five children (including a newborn) and I moved to a 25-acre property within easy driving distance to the city but with no shops close by. We realized we needed a cow to provide milk for our brood. We saw an advertisement for a jersey cow and we bought her. The seller told us her name was Sally.

Sally was the most docile of animals and very easy to milk. Her milk was rich, creamy, and plentiful. I learned to make butter and cottage cheese and we had plenty of fresh pure cream. To get completely into the dairy scene, and to combat the hot Queensland weather, I asked my husband to build me a dairy with running water, benches, and refrigeration. 

Then I had a setback. I found Sally lying in the shed and she was obviously not well. I went to the vet and he said that when a cow goes down, she rarely recovers and there would be no point in coming to see her. This information distressed me so he gave me medication and a syringe telling me where and how to insert it into the cow. I had never stuck a needle in any creature, man or beast and I knew I would be unable to give Sally an injection. I remembered Marilyn, who lived up the road, had worked at C.S.I.R.O. before she married. I had no idea what work she did, but I knew CSIRO did all sorts of testing and experiments. Surely she could give my cow an injection. She told me she had done nothing like that, but she would to give it a go and she did. Next morning Sally was standing and as good as gold. She had no more problems.
 
We wanted to buy another cow so we attended a dairy dispersal sale and bought two cows, Leigh a Friesian and Bess an Illawarra. Leigh was a dream cow and gave big buckets of milk every morning and evening. Bess had a couple of problems. At one time she had mastitis in one teat and now had only three working teats. It is difficult to hand milk a cow with three teats because milking is a one, two rhythm. Her other problem was her refusal to go into a shed or any structure where she was unable to go forward to get out. My husband built a special chute for her and that fixed that difficulty. 

Then we had so much milk we had to buy a couple of poddy calves. We still had surplus milk. We offered free milk to some of our neighbours and they readily accepted it. In return, they gave us eggs and vegetables. It is a wonderful feeling to be part of a community that shares. The sharing went far beyond produce. There was always someone to talk to when a problem arose or give assistance when someone needed help, such as when the car wouldn’t start, or children needed minding or collecting them from the school bus. 

We had Sally for several years. When it came time to sell her, we placed an advertisement in the newspaper. An old man came to buy her. He told us Sally had been his cow and his son had sold her without his consent. He had kept watch on Sally at our place over the years, hoping that someday we would sell her.  He was very happy to get her back. 


Elizabeth Kearns
October 2020

This should be my downsizing year. As we age,  we think of moving to a smaller house and garden, (or no garden), disposing of our clutter so our children won’t have to cope with it. I look at my cupboards  and wonder where to start. There are programs on TV about people who are compulsive hoarders—I think I’m heading that way too!                                                                                                 
I look in my wardrobe and wonder where to start, several favourite jumpers are at least 30 years old, but they made better quality woollens then—pure wool  with no synthetic added. On the next shelf I find scores of T shirts and trousers. I’ve got to keep old clothes for gardening and around the farm. I”ve heard that when you buy a new article of clothing an old one should be thrown out. Not me!  
                                    
On the back of the top shelf is a case containing my wedding dress (60 years), a lace creation with a bouffant skirt. I kept it thinking one of my daughters may have worn it, but alas, they weren't  the same size as me, and lace was out of fashion. Perhaps one of my granddaughters will like it?

With COVID we don’t go out so we don’t need anything flash to wear, and when you are over 80, comfort comes before fashion!   And, some of those old clothes are comfortable!      
                                                                                                                    
I move on to the linen cupboard. Apart from linen, there are stacks of photo albums, vases, Xmas decorations and records, a lot of which I’ve inherited from my mother. I look at the photos of family and holidays and I get very sentimental and find it hard to throw anything out.  The Xmas decorations must go, apart from finding it a bother to hang tinsel etc. there  possibly will not be a family gathering here this year due to COVID isolation. Anything worthwhile on records could be transferred to CD’s. Might manage to throw something out here!   
                                                             
Next I move to my “sewing room” (bedroom 4). Here I find two sewing machines plus my Nana's old treadle Singer machine.  Sentimentality rules again, after all, that old machine has lots of drawer space!  The wardrobes bulge with material scraps and craft books that only a quilter would understand. Those scraps, no matter how small, might be useful one day. Other craft gear of the past,--beads, ribbons, buttons, wool and paints I might use one day, (when I’m really old).   
 
I wander out to the bin with a small bag of rubbish, the whole exercise was like shifting the deck chairs on the Titanic.  I need a cup of tea and a sit down!   Was it Scarlet O’Hara who said “Tomorrow is another day”?

​Margaret Nelson

I have always wanted to write, but somehow never found the inspiration as to what to write about.

During my schooling we had an excellent English teacher.  Well, he was a good teacher although as a person was not one of the most popular.  And while he stands out as far as teaching, there were other great teachers who left us with excellent writing skills.  Still, for me, nothing happened until we moved to Benalla. 

One night I had a dream.  Quite often we do not remember much about dreams after we wake, but this one stayed with me.  It stayed with me so much that for a few nights afterwards I could not sleep, thinking about this dream.  In the end, I decided to write it down to see if that way I could start sleeping.  It worked as far as sleeping was concerned.  And it became what could be considered a full-length book.

Then I saw in the Ensign an article on U3A, and a new course in writing.  While the format in that year did not really suit me, it was here I met a friend.  We started walking around the lake several days a week.  Then we entered into a challenge.  Write a paragraph a day on any subject and share with one another.  What a great exercise this was!  Some of these paragraphs have led to short stories. One has even given rise to another close to full length manuscript.

It was a couple of years later that I joined the memoir writing class.  I have enjoyed this journey, but I wanted to also write fiction.  So started the Creative Writing Class at U3A.  It had not been my intention convene the class.  After all, I am not a trained teacher of creative writing.  I just enjoy writing.  However, the class has developed.

I have signed up for the Australian Writers’ Centre newsletter and have entered their monthly Furious Fiction competition.  They have an occasional class called MOJO month which provides daily motivational ideas, online references and challenges and I have joined twice.  And this year I have also enrolled in some of their online creative writing classes.  Some of the content is familiar to me, but some is new and I think I have learnt a lot.
​
The only thing I still need to think about is what to do with my short stories and manuscripts.  But my life has certainly become a ‘writing life’.

​

Joy Shirley
​October 2020