It is a December morning here in Perth. We are preparing for the time when we come together with family to celebrate another year passing. I wake to a welcomed downpour that will keep the garden going. The sun is out now and the morning slipped away with the various domestic things that absorb my time these days.


I am thinking about the books I have been reading as I bundle up my most recent to return to the library.

I have just read “A Trick of the Light “ Carolyn Polizzotto Fremantle Arts Press 2001.

The fly reads “Why are so many baby boomers choosing to write memoirs while still in their fifties? I wondered whether there was a paradox- whether they were doing so not because they could remember their childhoods, but because they couldn't.”

Carolyn lives here in Perth and is known to one of my friends who is also an author. My friend however is a historian who delves into a more distant past. Although I have not met Carolyn I would like to thank her for her books. I picked this book up as I had read “Pomegranate Season” which won her the Western Australian Premier’s Award for 1998. That was also a personal book.

I also liked the quote from the book that is on the back cover:

"My memories are at odds with the photo albums. Family snaps generally show smiling faces. The crying child is edited out before the photo is taken, the camera put down, the child comforted. Cleaned up, wiped down: if all else fails, the camera can be put away for another day. Videos are different. The genre of home video seems to admit- indeed to favour-crying children. Toddlers tripping over, dogs grabbing ice creams from wavering hands. It seemed to be allowed in the world of moving film for a child to choose to cry. Not in the world of the family snap, though, and certainly not in the fifties."

The embargo on tears is well remembered as part my early life. I now am much more able to express my emotions freely although it took some practice. For some the expression of emotion seems unsettling. Perhaps they remain so well trained by their childhoods? Tears of course are not only an acknowledgment of sadness they can flow with laughter as well. I have some famous memories for times when I laughed so much.

Carolyn does so much to remind you of things long forgotten, not the least of which was the impact of young men being taken to war. My father of course was one. He has been gone now three and a half years although he has influenced in ways that continue to weave in and out of my every day breathing.

So perhaps the baby boomer in writing about the fifties is not only finding a way to retrieve lost memories but also a way to ensure links to people who helped shape us.

Who Said That?

To quote a very famous man "In the first place, God made idiots. That was for practice. Then he made school boards."

So don't let your schooling get in the way of your education.

Para-phrasing more from this great writer, I am reminded that the secret to success is having a clear view of where you are going. But you must also know that you can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.

So get your facts first and then you can distort them as much as you wish. But when in doubt, just tell the truth. And believe in yourself .

The real secret to success in life is to make your vocation your vacation.
And remember that denial isn't just a river in Egypt. So face you self and got on with it.

Find people who encourage you and shun people who be-little others and their ambitions. Small people do that, but great people make you feel you can be great too.

So you see, it is much easier to start off as a great person. Why not?

081102G

Empty Chairs

There was a crowd, but they've left. And we're alone with the noise that has gone; From an event to remember that week in September, when Dan and Lisa were wed.

Just another flight?

Flight 777 from Melbourne to Perth yesterday might have been just another one of those flights back West. I have lost count of the number I have taken now as it is such long time since I first made the radical decision to live in Perth. I was a mere 20 years old then. So what was so different?

We started with a delay; some hold up in Sydney so I browsed the airport shops before settling in with my book.

I was quite snug wrapped in the soft and delicate light woolen shawl my niece had given me, booty from her buying trip in India. I really appreciated this gift more so once on board the aircraft. Just perfect to wrap around yourself to stay comfortable.

The movie had little appeal so I surf for music to play whilst I read and the flight was punctuated with the usual routine of the crew. The safety procedures clear then the meal coming along. I could hear snatches of sentences from beneath my headset as the food trolley trundled passed me to the place where the serving would commence. My thoughts came and went about the events of the last few days and my returning to my own.

The person who said she did not like her name. I wondered if the naming of a child is at times a task of the grieving who acknowledge a loved one passing by handing the name along.

My book refers to this happening and the next generation being bearers of a special person's name. Perhaps it is an expression of family connectedness, a name borrowed from other kin, or when denied a rebellion from that path. I decide I will look up the name of the woman who so disliked hers.

Today I have done this. Her name derived from various languages including Welsh and Greek. In sum this woman's name could be taken to mean " Blessed Torch Bearer for Peace". So a name not to be dismissed quickly.

I was pleased to find another meaning for my own name, I already knew it meant hope, the Arabic translation was generosity. It has been a gift to have a positive name.

I had just spent five days immersed in preparations for and the celebration of my eldest nephew's wedding. It was wonderful. I have now looked at the photos my brother has posted to me that show the many wonderful expressions: joy, pride, humbleness,gentleness and adoration that my nephew expressed.

I take a walk to the rear of the cabin to wait my turn, and catch a view of the southern coast line, clear as day. I had for the second time in this week seen the strip of sand and rock that clearly marked Cape Arid and the curve of Israelite Bay.

With so many flights before this was a special thing. I had mostly flown at night before and had this point of the journey marked only by the lights of Esperance. Only an hour until we land now.

It is warm balmy evening when we leave the terminal to be greeted by the efferverscent chorus of parrots chatter so familiar from many visits to this airport. I am home again.

It is the 16 September 2008 and not just another flight.