meilleure amie

Mum and I were fortunate to spend time with some favourite rellies this week – a tasty meal with my father’s sister and brother and their spouses. These aunts and uncles have been a part of my life forever and part of mum’s for over fifty years.

It was the start of birthday celebrations for mum, she turns 75 – wowsers! I have started this story about my mum several times and while most stories that I write come easily this one has eluded me.

There are few words in the English language to describe this lady appropriately.

In recognition of her 75 years I am going to try. Im sure the photos I have included will help paint the picture of this lovely lady.

Apparently, my dad said to his sister many years ago that the best thing he ever did was marry Brenda. As one of their 3 children I’m kinda glad he did too! She was a hit with his family from the start – including his mother, which for those who knew Ellie was something monumental.

Mum_Dad_sheepyards — One my favourite photos – the young couple in the sheepyards at Bellevue

I sometimes wonder if things would have been different if she was born in a different era. Would she have been a nurse? A counsellor? A psychologist?

As a middle child born during the late World War II years she was destined to leave school at 16 years and work to help support the family. As was the norm in the 1950s she worked until she married, at a local jeweller and then became a full-time wife and mother.

Would have, could have. I get the feeling she doesn’t regret how her life has turned out. It has still been one hell of a ride!

Life was tough growing up during those post war years, a middle child of six children whose father died when she was seven. The Murray River was her home – born in Yarrawonga and childhood in Corowa until a handsome school teacher swept her away when she was nineteen to Gundagai, Manilla and finally settling in Curlewis in 1974.

She was a bit of a looker as a young lady in Corowa. Her sweet curls set from rags in her hair a common sight in the family album, her peaches and cream complexion shining in photos taken at district balls and dances in the early 1960s. She has a quirky talent of being able to raise her right eyebrow which she used effectively to gain the attention of the handsome school teacher who used to visit their home in Parade Place, Corowa. Her skilful talent obviously worked, as they were married in 1963 and enjoyed over 50 very happy years together.

In times of sadness and loss this wonderful lady is the glue, the strength, the rock that guides and helps both family and friends through their most traumatic experiences. She does this without hesitation and it usually involves delivery of some home-cooked food to feed the soul.

Food baked by her, always with love and heart. Many have tried to recreate her jam drops, her Anzac biscuits, the almond bread, weetie pudding, curried chicken or memorable sponge cake. It is never the same. One of my daughters commented that Gran cooks with love in it – and no one can put Grans love in, so they will never be the same. I have to agree with this theory.

She was also quite the seamstress, sewing many of our clothes and her own in the early years. She still is the go-to person for mending and fixing clothing for family members, some even saving things until they next visit for Gran to fix.

Selfless – Caring – Generous – Thoughtful are all words that easily spring to mind.

There was invariably a little note wrapped in my school lunchbox with a smile, or simply the words love you x written on it. Just her way to let me know all was fine in the world, she was there in spirit, always.

When my girls come home to visit the pantry is stocked with home baked goodies, delivered by Gran who knows their favourites to welcome them home. She has baked birthday cakes forever, and always whatever is requested, though most of the time one cannot go past her sponge!

Her door is always open, the kettle is always on, there is always a cold beer in the fridge and food in the cupboard that she can whip into a master meal in a heartbeat. We had many a night with friends, playing cards and dancing, laughter and silliness in our Minhala home. The lady of the house was in the thick of it and making sure everyone was having a great time, their glasses full and their hunger satisfied. From Dad’s co-workers and students to my brother’s navy mates who would turn up at last minute on weekend leave – they were welcomed, bedded and fed – usually being sent off with armfuls of leftovers to get them home.

Officially she is Gran to eight grandchildren, unofficially to countless others. At the local school she was known for quite some time simply as “Gran’ – even the Principal fondly called her Gran. A most fitting title indeed for this lovely lady.

Her caring nature may have made a wonderful nurse, the way she can listen without judgement may have made a leading psychologist. Would haves, could haves that we will never know. I do know though, that she is the most considerate and forgiving mother and grandmother this side of the black stump. She is the most loving, honourable, proud wife, mother and grandmother in cooee of the Murray River.

And she does a damn fine cooee that has called many a child from up the paddock!

She is the one with the infectious laugh, the silliest faces, the quirky sense of humour, the willingness to give anything a go.

She is our world.

She is my mother.

She has made me all that I am and all that I will be.

She is my best friend.

Happy 75^th birthday Brenda Christine – Mrs T – Mum – Gran x.

meilleure amie is French for best friend

Anzac Reflection 2018

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The air was warmer than in previous years, this drought continues with no end in sight. The ground crunched under our feet, not from frost but from the dry, baked earth that has seen little rain over the summer months. The whispered greetings as we waited to start were about how dry it is and the old timers remarking they haven’t seen it so bare for many decades.

Down the street, in the dim morning dawn a train rumbles through the town, past where once a railway station once stood. Its whistles blow with an air of prosperity as more black gold is hauled east to the port. Those same tracks carried our troops to port a century ago. Families gave one last long hug on that platform and waved a tearful farewell as sons, fathers and brothers were sent across the oceans to fight the big war.

Some returned, others lost their lives on the battle fields of the western front.

The memorial in the local park a constant reminder of those who went. Saunders and Stead Killed in Action and never returning to the black soil plains, the smell of eucalypt, the blue skies and open land of home. Delve who died of wounds, fighting with desire to return to help turn the sods and reap many more harvest with his family at home.

Bass, Campion, Davies, Martin, Pryor, Sullivan arriving home to the heroes welcomes to live with ghosts of unspeakable acts and brutality beyond what humans should ever endure.

The story of farewells on the rail platform, the deaths, the losses, the angst and returning ghosts continue across decades. And continue today.

At the village Anzac Day 2018 ceremonies over 300 people paused to remember and thank those who have gave their lives, so we can continue to live in freedom and choice.

In his commemorative address John Lyle reminded us of these sacrifices – from the 300, 000 who fought on the Western Front, to World War 2 where many Prisoner of War returned home without any post war support and were just told ‘to get on with it”.

People at home could not, and probably still don’t comprehend the brutality and slaughter they witnessed. He reminded us of other wars and battles, including families who still wait for news from those serving in current conflicts.

As the brass band filled the autumn skies with music and we gave our thanks through prayer and hymn the Australian landscape around us continued its chatter. The galahs squawked overhead, the trains whistled, the cars zoomed by. Life and choices we continue to enjoy.

Our youth perspective confirmed these brave men and women of our past are role models for future generations, helping provide the freedom and opportunity that we can tend to for granted.

They are, Breanna said “A link to the past that helps shape our nation and the future”.

In the quiet morning light in Curlewis NSW on April 25^th 2018 villagers – young and old – came together to remember. The following poem, read at the dawn service describing why we do so eloquently.

ANZAC REFLECTION

Reflecting on one hundred years, since ANZACS first became

There’s much that now is different, but much that stays the same

There’s still a price for liberty, so we can choose our path

There still are those who go to war and pay on our behalf

There still are those who sacrifice and leave loved -ones behind

So we can have the right to vote and speak what’s on our mind

There still are those who face a foe and fight in foreign lands

In hopes that we’ll be terror free and safe from evil hands

There still are those who take a wound and live with daily pain

Their battle is a lifelong thing; their price for freedom’s gain

There still are those who give their lives and break their happy home

There still are grieving boys and girls – and partners all alone

So keep in mind our wounded vets and families of the lost

They’re still the ones who bear the bulk of freedom’s daily cost

Remember freedom has a price – we’re in our soldiers’ debt

Remember to remember – lest we all forget

by Ian Coate

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+ thank you to all who helped with the 2 Anzac ceremonies at Curlewis – Councillor Colleen Fuller, Peter Boem & Phoebe Neil, Curlewis Public School, Curlewis Bush Fire Brigade, Hunter River Lancers, Gunnedah Shire Band, all who presented reflections or prayers, read the ode and finally thank you to the small Curlewis Anzac Committee.

Sunday Luncheon

The old hall stands in the centre of the town. Over the years the floor has been swept by debutantes, the dust stirred by the beat of music and washed with copious amounts of alcohol and drinks. Old timers reminisce about the regular dances across the district mid-last century – from Curlewis to Nea, Breeza to Spring Ridge and many other halls in between. The floor is perfect for a bush dance, with many a heel and toe having been stepped out across its boards.

In recent years it has been the function centre for local school presentations, town meetings, an outpost of the shire library, regular boot scooters and fundraisers such as trivia nights in the dead of winter that then took days to warm the bones to some semblance of comfort.

But the laughter, friendships and memories will warm you for a life time.

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This hall, costing 5000 pounds to build was opened on March 21 1958 with a Grand Opening Ball. History tells us it’s steel framed with a brick frontage. It has a 72 by 42-foot dance floor and 34 by 12-foot stage. The project to build it was one of the biggest public ventures taken on by a district centre – taking two years of community effort, fund raising and voluntary work.

It truly is a community resource built and cherished by the village.

On Sunday I enjoyed the company of friends at this treasured centrepiece of our town. The Gunnedah Red Cross held its major fundraiser, a gala day complete with a fashion parade in our hall. What a glorious way to spend a Sunday.

The old hall stood tall as it was once more filled with chatter and camaraderie. The kitchen clattered with food preparations, the yard shone with prized vintage cars, the edges packed with small markets showcasing their wares. And then as a finale to a delicious meal we enjoyed a parade as the latest fashions promenaded across the stage, inspiring all to update or add to their winter wardrobe.

It was rewarding to contribute to the fund-raising efforts of The Australian Red Cross who provide a range of services and programmes including international aid and humanitarian law advocacy, migration support, emergency management, blood donation via the Australian Red Cross Blood Service, and community services for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples, youth, families, the elderly, and persons with disabilities.

As a local it was warming to watch our hall being used and enjoyed by both villagers and visitors. I’m sure it too enjoyed the chats, laughter and smiles as much as we did.

Want to know more?

Australian Red Cross – www.redcross.org.au.

Gunnedah Branch Red Cross – www.gunnedah.nsw.gov.au/index.php/business/business-support/business-directory/Other/4339-red-cross-gunnedah-branch

Fashion Parade by Enchanted Emporium and Riley’s Furniture and Carpets – See the lovely clothing that showcased on their facebook page – www.facebook.com/flowersballoonsgunnedah.

Local Volunteers

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Volunteer numbers in small country communities is declining. Many clubs have folded as there are not enough people to fill not only executive positions but to come along and be part of the Club, including fundraisers, events and activities. This is a trend across Australia as a whole.

Volunteers can still be found, quietly working within communities. I have come across such people, in my own backyard.

While visiting my mum – who is recently widowed – I enjoyed the company of two astonishing local ladies who regularly check on mum just to make sure all is OK. They live just up the road, but if you are looking for them you will rarely find them at home. You will find them helping others in the local community.

justuptheroad — Just up the road…main entrance to Curlewis

They might be keeping an elderly person company or gently coaching another to take a few steps after an operation, organising a vehicle for a family so they can drive to town for food and appointments or feeding someone else chooks and ducks while they are in hospital. Our community might be small but there is always someone needing assistance. This mother and daughter seem to know who and seem to know when.

Glenda is a trained nurse. Up until a few years ago she had her own business where she would visit people in their homes and care for them. Her daughter Phoebe jokes when we talk about this. Her mum always went over and above what was needed to be done and there were many days she stayed with the client or did that little extra, making her late home for dinner or to help with homework. For Glenda, it wasn’t a 9-5 job.

I asked Glenda “Why do you do it? What motivates you to help people” thinking this was an easy question. She hesitates, sits back in her chair and ponders her answer. “People need help and I can help them. I work with them so we achieve something together. It’s teamwork and gives them back confidence. One small achievement for them helps take away a lot of self-doubt”

There are also other wonderful people supporting this community. A few years ago the local church surveyed the community by door knocking on the 120 residences and asking what people thought the community needed. Not surprising the biggest issue was something for the youth to do. Curlewis is about 17km from its larger country centre Gunnedah, situated in north west NSW about 5 hours inland of Sydney. While many of the youth travel to Gunnedah for high school there are very little other activities to fill their time outside those hours.

Youth drop in

What started as Kids Club through a church has grown. Phoebe and her sister Crystal, with the help of others could see the youth needed not just an activity or two in school holidays but a regular place to go, to mix with others in a safe environment. With the help of others in the community they have established the Curlewis Youth Drop In Centre. The church has provided them with a building that is decorated with lounges, bean bags and provides a welcoming space one a week.

Over a quiet cup of tea we reflected on why there are less youth offering to volunteer in the community, or regional NSW as a whole. Phoebe has observed that the more willing volunteers are young adults who have lived away from the community and returned or have experienced a life elsewhere. We wondered whether these see the community from a different angle and appreciate the positive aspects rather than being caught in the monotony of their own world. It can be easy to lose perspective and get caught up in the day to day micro happenings of a small town. Becoming independent and living with other cultures and strangers can help people appreciate their own community and potentially bring back newly learned skills and confidence. It will be a challenge to break this cycle. The Youth Drop In Centre is doing this in its own small way.

Each week the centre has 20-30 youth attend. At first the number of adults that came along to help were the same ones that started the centre. Over time others became interested, just helping prepare food or work in the background. Now there is a roster to share the load. The adults enjoy the banter with the youth and vice versa. The young love hearing stories from the elderly volunteers. It’s a win-win.

Many articles highlight the value of volunteering for young people. It looks good on a resume and can help get a scholarship. It also builds teamwork and organisation skills, supervisory or communication skills and confidence with working people outside their home environment.

As a parting question I asked Glenda how does she feel when she has helped someone? What is it like when she sees a glimmer of hope in their eyes and a smile of achievement beaming back at her?

I was expecting emotive words like warm, happy, joyful, proud or delighted. Instead she couldn’t respond; the question was too hard to answer.

Why? Glenda volunteers her time to help others. That is all. No self-gain, no feeding a personal need, no recognition required. The sign of a truly wonderful person who Gives.

**Article originally written and published for The Australia Times GIVE Magazine. Publishing here to celebrate International Volunteers Day

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countryhorizons_bvmarketsroadsigntotown It is normally a sleepy little village. Its 180 odd residents living a quiet life tucked under the shadows of the southern Liverpool Plains mountain ranges, at the very beginnings of the Mooki River that will weave its way across the plains to Gunnedah. The bustle of school traffic, children’s laughter in the playground and the toll of the bell are the only sounds that would break the quiet air during the day.

I know at least one day of the year when the population of Blackville would more than triple.

I witnessed it last Sunday.

The annual Blackville Arts and Market Day.

The road from Curlewis to Blackville was picturesque as the remarkable realm of the Liverpool Plains shone in the morning sun. A carpet of green crops, fading yellow canola and fallowed black clay rolled out in front of us, a band of hazy blue of the mountain ranges bordering the panorama. Pockets of trees lined paddocks, cattle and sheep enjoyed their morning feed as, across the plains farming families finished their morning chores.

Blackville is not really on the way to somewhere or the way from anywhere. It is about a 40 minute drive from Quirindi to the north-west and Merriwa to the south, as the crow flies. I recall my dad used to refer to the Blackville area as “gods own country” – if there was a hint of rain in the skies Blackville seems to always get it.

We rounded the final bend and were greeted by ‘road closed’ signs just past the town signage. There are few places that can close off the main thoroughfare of town for markets. Blackville can, and did.

Smiling faces of the local committee greeted us, the hospitality of rural Australia evident in the air.

Welcome to Blackville.

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The stall owners stood behind their wares, a sense of pride as they happily showcased their goods. From watercolour paintings, jewellery of many shapes and material, fashion, wood crafts, hand dyed scarves, straw bags, metal ornaments, clay homewares, photography, home furnishings, local produce from the plains and the tastiest honey I have had for some time. It was an exciting array of goodies.

The homemade lime and coconut cake was delectable with my morning coffee, enjoyed in the spring sun with a wisp of a breeze keeping the heat at bay. We watched younger ones tuck into fairy floss, washed down with a frozen cup of pure delight as a duet played gentle music to entertain.

Ahh this is how Sunday should be!

After our fill of tastes and a bag full of goodies we set off on a different route home. I am a bit like my father in that I try to never travel the same road twice on a road trip. We circled back to Spring Ridge and a pit stop at the local Royal Hotel. The residents of Spring Ridge wont go hungry while ever they have the burgers at the Royal!