Letter To...

‘Turning Point’ is a pivotal moment in your life that brings you in a new direction. Things become a lot clearer and you are moving forward again. In a narrative it can be the climax followed by the resolution. In maths it can be the stationary point of the compass moving round and round, pressing it’s subject.

There I was with every orifice open to the five women delivering their very personal letters at Women of Letters* at Thornbury Theatre on a miserable Melbourne Sunday afternoon.

With a Cab Sav in one hand I listened to the very diverse panel of Australians.  The first lady discussed her breast reduction and poor self image rather humorously. The next talked about her choice to be involved in filming over being a musician. The third let us in to her very raw feelings for a past boyfriend with an anxiety disorder. The following had a similar turning point when she realised she was clinically depressed. Through a video link up we listened to one lady and gained an insight into politics and how being a school mum was her turning point to fight for democracy. The fifth and final speaker was eccentric and fittingly as wild as her red hair. Her turning point was when Winona Ryder was caught for shoplifting,. Her idol caught like a deer in the headlights. A nice lighthearted final speaker.

All were read with purpose and beautifully and tastefully articulated. No tears and self-indulgent comments. Just a moment when we as a collective body felt that turning point and lived it for those six or so pages of each letter.

After the speakers had presented their letters, we had an opportunity to write a postcard or aerogram ourselves. I can proudly say that I was one of Marieke Hardy’s missal writers. Keeping the art of snail mail alive. I even posted it!

It was such a wonderful moment when I realised my recipient was one of my turning points and told me to write because I never knew what it could truly bring to me until I tried.

Being there was a turning point…

*On the last Sunday of the month six different women from interesting celebrity, sporting, pioneering, musical, political etc backgrounds come together to respond to a topic via a letter (read aloud by them) to like-minded women and men. The whole purpose is to preserve the ritual of letter writing and help fund a vegan farm in Kilmore called Edgar’s Mission.

I was lucky enough to be attending with a dear friend who also happens to be Marieke’s cousin and we sat in the front row, ears tuned to the creative thoughts of these women.

All the letters are unsighted and uncollaberated beforehand and can be humorous, soul searching, outrageous and more often than not inspiring.

The speakers I listened to this month were Maude Davey, Natalie Van Den Dungen, Sian Prior, Missy Higgins, Joan Kirner and Lorelai Vashti 

Dust – Book Review

Dust is everywhere in this house and you don’t need a white glove to prove it. From the bedside tables to the kids’ bookshelves, I can see evidence of a tardy housewife.

My excuse is that dusting sets me off sneezing. Great fits of “achoo,” a spray of snoot and a nose that sniffles and snuffles for the remainder of the day. Why would I want to dust?

So what is dust? ‘Dust is a general name for minute solid particles with diameters less than…500 micrometres. Particles in the atmosphere arise from various sources such as soil dust lifted up by wind, volcanic eruptions, and pollution.’ 

There are three main components of dust: dead skin cells, the dried faeces and corpses of dust mites (nice!) and tiny fibres shed by clothing such as cotton.**

The story I am reviewing today though is far more serious than a dusty bookcase. It is about the humanitarian disaster in Niger, Africa, in 2005. Entitled Dust, by Colin Thompson, published by A.B.C Books, this picture book follows the tragic journey of a mother and child starved and exposed to the elements.

The book starts by saying: “I died last night” and haunting illustrations give weight to the text. Fourteen well-known illustrators designed a double page each and the unique styles interpret the journey of death for this nameless African mother and her child.

“I had no years to fall in love, no weeks to laugh, no days to learn that two and three make five.”

There is a sad reminder that the western world ignored their pleas when it shows a man wearing cufflinks shoveling his left-over dinner into the bin on top of a newspaper that writes about the famine in World News, in contrast to a two million dollar wedding entertainment article.

The second last image in the story has a corpse carrying a sickle and lantern with skulls scattering the ground. He is holding the hands of other cultures.

“Tomorrow we will be back in the dust, gathered by the wind and spread across the world.”

Perhaps this is saying that the Africans' plight will be spread across the world or that they will merely be dust - forgotten under our feet.

It is the final image that shows the frailty of life. Four burning matchsticks with earth the centre in each matchstick head, are glowing, burning, and finally burnt out. A message to the world how quickly we pass from life to death and that we have only one Earth.

This is not your usual picture book but it is a story that needs to be read and shared with your children. Thompson has poignantly retraced this dreadful famine and highlighted the waste of life through beautiful illustrations and evocative text.

While my dusting prelude was completely insignificant it does have a similar theme of neglect.  In Niger, we neglected people who were thirsty, starving and weak. Let’s owe them the respect of being remembered before they were dust. 

*Wikipedia

**answerbag.com

picture - illustrated by Colin Thompson

Story to Tell

The second hand bookstore is always full of surprises and while it is backbreaking work lugging books up the hill from the school shipping container and sorting and pricing boxes, it is cathartic sitting among thousands of pages of books. Vintage, new, hardly read, dog-eared, names inscribed, ex library or with the bookmark still resting between the pages. Every book has (pardon the pun) a story to tell.

My reward for spending so much time voluntarily running the bookstore for the fair is free access to the books. Not surprisingly I don’t grab for the shiny covers or the chick lit. I prefer to pick up books with a history like the weather beaten copy of Lord of the Rings (definitely an early print from the 70’s and a well-loved book with pages loosened at the spine. I am like the Lost Dog’s home for books. I cannot send a book to the recycle bin if a child has scrawled on its pages. I did the same with my books as a child, pretending to be a librarian and stamping the back page. I wasn’t being destructive. I was expressing my love for books at an early age – just like this child.

As I sneeze my way through dusty book after dusty book, I find a cricket story for my son and a book about dogs for my daughter; again pretty grotty books that some child must have read over and over again. Then I stumble on The Prose Works of Henry Lawson and on the back cover is a membership to the Marvic Book Club in Ascot Vale. The postcode reads as W2. The book was printed in 1935. Inside in lead is written, “This book is 3’ per week. Obviously the price you paid back then to loan books. I wonder if they had wine and nibbles at their book club?

I love the treasures that surface every week in the second hand book store and think of friends and colleagues that might be matched to certain books just like families are paired with stray cats and dogs. Veggie growing suits this friend, readers are appropriate for Preps, bike touring for my neighbours, crime for another friend and so on. I even found a book, Two for the Road, which my friend’s husband was pictured in. Apparently her Auntie’s sister-in-law was the author. Such a small world – I promise I’ll review it later.

Don’t worry I will sell some of the books, but my friends also deserve a new book in their lives. I am the gatherer and distributor of once treasured books for both the young and old. My book club loaning sticker would read: All I ask is that you enjoy and love this book!

Is that Name a Poke?

“A little ray of sunshine has come into the world. A little ray of sunshine in the shape of a girl…”

It’s so exciting when you hold your newborn child and name them after nine months of scouring name books and agonising over a mutually acceptable name. It’s a name for your child to own and grow with.

Recently the major papers published the list of the most popular names in Victoria for 2010. A lot of the classics like Ruby, Charlotte and Mia appeared for the girls. Jack, William and Thomas topped the list for the boys*. These are traditional names that fit a newborn as well as a senior citizen’s face.

Recently, an Egyptian father was happy to forego the traditional names of his country by naming his newborn daughter Facebook in appreciation of the role that this social media site played in Egypt’s revolution.

We all watched the bloody protest unfold with thousands packing Tahrir Square and other cities in Egypt demanding the end to President Hosni Muburak’s reign. This father was that impressed by the influence of social gossip and networking that he named his precious daughter after it.

Imagine when Facebook grows up and her teacher says “Get out your laptop Facebook and Google the Egyptian uprising from 2011.” That might explain a few things for her. 

Perhaps if the trend in social uprising continues she will have friends called Yahoo and Twitter!

I Love You Too Babe

How could I possible top this! Ten years married today and I am sharing this beautiful red letter delivered in a handmade tin because according to wedding anniversary custom ten years is "tin." My hubby has made my card out of the appropriate material every year from cotton and wood to pottery and iron and I have kept every single one. This means a great deal to me. To my number 1 follower - I love you x

Speed Mingling and Bidets

There is a definite social awkwardness when you throw 15 new prep mums in a room – at least until you pour a glass of champas. Cliques appear and people get stuck talking to one person about their arduous birth story…until you start speed mingling.

Yes ‘speed mingling’ is my all-female version of speed meeting/dating and this two minute chat and move on game can actually break the ice for many and open you up to a whole new mix of people and conversations.

In one speed mingle I realized that if you have a female baby that’s overdue, the estrogen in their body can cause them to have a baby period. (I never knew that.) I talked about boys and sport and the popularity battle if you aren’t physically inclined. We discussed emotion from songs and how the tune and the words can turn us into wet blankets. I’m never having twins with reflux and after two minutes of ears only, I have total admiration for all parents of twins. Then there was the whole Catholic thing of not sleeping in the same bed with our partners at our parents’ home and the “mattress on the floor” rule before we were married.  All these came from snippets of speed mingling. It’s amazing when conversation is limited, it can indeed be very enlightening and lighthearted.

Nerves and pretenses had subsided and by the end of the night we had moved from cocktails and double chin photos to joking about hot chocolates out of our “bidets.” There should be more speed mingling conversations!

Pigs Fly

Have you ever stopped to read your food packages? Everything is organic, free-range and has no preservatives or artificial flavours. It’s what we want to read and it’s what most of us are choosing to eat.

When I was making pork burgers, I stumbled upon this creative marketer:

“Born and raised on carefully selected R.S.P.C.A Approved farms, our free range pigs forage, roam and socialise in the Great Australian Outdoors.”

Yes they play Piggyback races, have a farewell BBQ and watch the sunset together before they DIE and end up as pork burgers on our plate. Who are they kidding? What death is humane? Enticing us with free-range pigs is fine but luring us with ones that "socialise" freely is a tad misleading.

As I chomp down on my burgers I’ll keep it in mind that the pigs had a good life – snort snort.

Taking The Saint Out of Valentine

Saint Valentine’s Day, originally acknowledging two martyrs, Valentine of Rome and Valentine of Terni, in 496 AD, sounds much more meaningful than the commercially driven celebration known to us today as Valentine’s Day. Now it’s just a day to send tacky cards, fluffy toys and over-priced roses. Will you be my Valentine? Sure Darl!

So when did this day take a loving and affectionate turn? Some say the first recorded association of Saint Valentine’s Day with romantic love is in Parlement of Foules written by Geoffrey Chaucer in 1382. Can you believe I studied Medieval Sexuality at university? I needed a filler and what an insightful one it proved to be.

“For this was on seynt Volantynys day
Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make.*”

Translated it reads: "For this was Saint Valentine's Day, when every bird cometh there to choose his mate."

This poem was written to honor the first anniversary of the engagement of King Richard II of England to Anne of Bohemia. 

Not such shallow origins after all. It was only when Mr. Hallmark and his love-sick subscribers of the twentieth century got involved and made the Saintly Day less than saintly, with cards and later gifts.

Even the true and tried “roses are red, violets are blue,” can be traced back to Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene (1590):

She bath'd with roses red, and violets blew,
 And all the sweetest flowres, that in the forrest grew.**

I received a handpicked bunch of flowers from our garden (including a sprig from my beloved Crepe Myrtle Tree,) not to mention a beautiful morning cup of tea and kiss. Tonight I reciprocated with a delicious prawn, chorizo and harissa lentil dish for dinner. That’s simple and from the heart. No tacky card required.

Just as I am about to sign off my blog, I received a text from a dear uni friend who has just become engaged. Perhaps the saints are still working their miracles? Or is it Chaucer? The bird has chosen his mate!

*Oruch, Jack B., "St. Valentine, Chaucer, and Spring in February," Speculum, 56 (1981): 534–65. Oruch's survey of the literature finds no association between Valentine and romance prior to Chaucer

**Gammer Gurton's Garland (London, 1784) in I. Opie and P. Opie, The Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes (Oxford University Press, 1951, 2nd edn., 1997), p. 37

The Ton

Century. A ton. One hundred. It doesn’t matter how you write it - it is a lot!

It’s fitting that on my hundredth blog that I am thinking about the books that have helped to shape me, broaden my understanding, stir me, excite my imagination and make me wobble with big belly laughs.

Some titles you will know and others I can’t even find a record of any more. I have a particular memory of a book Dad gave to me about a sailor buying dolls from around the world and Dad even nicknamed me Langpo after a Chinese doll in the story. The dolls had various characteristics such as rosy cheeks and corn blonde hair and wore their traditional dress. I wish I could remember the name let alone the author. Anyway, below are a hundred books that spring to mind for now. There are thousands more that could be here and others that didn’t strike that chord with me at all.

It has taken me longer than expected hunting some author’s names down and will end up being a Saturday blog. Here’s to the next blogging ton!

In no particular order:

1.    Anne of Green Gables - L.M Montgomery

2.   Dim and Dusty – Joan Dalgleish

3.   The Urchin - unknown

4.   Buchenwald Hell - unknown

5.    Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden

6.   The Bronze Horseman – Paulina Simons

7.   The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo – Stein Larson

8.   Kane and Abel – Jeffery Archer

9.   Pippi Long Stocking – Astrid Lingrin

10.                  Then Again Maybe I won’t – Judy Blume

11.Cat in the Hat – Dr Seuss

12.                  Harry the Dirty Dog – Gene Zion

13.                  Breath – Tim Winton

14.                  Witches – Roald Dahl

15.The B.F.G – Roald Dahl

16.                  The Hunger Games – Suzanne Collins

17.                  The Book Thief – Marcus Zusak

18.                  I am the Messenger – Marcus Zusak

19.                  Tuesdays with Morrie – Mitch Albom

20.                 Lovely Bones – Alice Sebold

21.                  A thousand Speldid Suns – Khalid Hosseini

22.                 The Kite Runner – Khalid Hosseini

23.                 Once – Morris Gleitzman

24.                 The Colour Purple – Alice Walker

25.                  The Davinci Code – Dan Brown

26.                 Z for Zachariah – Robert O’Brien

27.                 Lord of the Flies – William Golding

28.                 Penny Pollard’s Diary – Robin Klein and Ann James

29.                 Twilight – Stephanie Myer

30.                 Pride and Prejudice- Jane Austin

31.                  Jessica – Bryce Courney

32.                 ‘The Power of One – Bryce Courtney

33.                 April Fools – Bryce Courtney

34.                 Dolls of the sea - unknown

35.                  Possum Magic – Mem Fox

36.                 Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte

37.                 The Poky Little Puppy – Janette S. Lowrey

38.                 Grimm’s Fairytales – Brothers Grimm

39.                 The Rainbow Serpent – Dick Roughsey

40.                 Are You My Mother? – P.D Eastman

41.                  The Very Hungry Caterpillar – Eric Cole

42.                 The Tale of Peter Rabbit – Beatrix Potter

43.                 Freckle Juice – Judy Blume

44.                 Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret? – Judy Blume

45.                  James and The Giant Peach – Roald Dahl

46.                 Bridge to Terrabithia – Katherine Patterson

47.                 Charlotte’s Web – E.B White

48.                 A Fly Went By - Mike McClintock

49.                 Forever - Judy Blume

50.                  Meg and Mog – Jan Pienkowski

51.The Fugitive – John Grisham

52.                  How To Win Friends and Influence People – Dale Carnegie

53.                  Celestine Prophecy – James Redfield

54.                  Titch – Pat Hutchins

55.Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte

56.                  Wild Swans – Jung Chang

57.                  The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe – C.S Lewis

58.                  Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – Roald Dahl

59.                  Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck

60.                 The Alchemist – Paulo Coelho

61.                  One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest – Ken Kasey

62.                 Guess How Much I Love You – Sam McBratney

63.                 Where the Wild Things Are – Maurice Sendak

64.                 Love You Forever – Robert N Munsch

65.                  The Giving Tree – Shell Silverstein

66.                 Pollyanna – Eleanor H Porter

67.                 I Am the Cheese – Robert Comier

68.                 Tomorrow When the War Began – John Marsden

69.                 Long Walk to Freedom – Nelson Mandela

70.                 Peter Pan – J.M Barrie

71.                  Ramona – Beverly Cleary

72.                 My Naughty Little Sister – Dorothy Edwards

73.                 Winnie the Pooh – A.A Milne

74.                 The Diary of Anne Frank – Anne Frank

75.                  If I Had Duck Feet – Dr Seuss

76.                 The Shipping News – E. Annie Proulx

77.                 The Godfather – Mario Puzo

78.                 The Outsiders – S.E Hinton

79.                 Romeo and Juliet – William Shakespeare

80.                 Where the Heart is – Billie Lette

81.                  I Know this Much is True – Wally Lamb

82.                 The Deep End of the Ocean – Jacquelyn Mitchard’

83.                 The Go-Between – L.P Hartley

84.                 George’s Marvellous Medicine – Roald Dahl

85.                  The Silver Sword – Ian Serrallier

86.                 Black Beauty – Anna Sewell

87.                 The Tiger Who Came to Tea – Judith Kerr

88.                 Fungus the Bogeyman – Raymond Briggs

89.                 Treasure Island – R.L Stevenson

90.                 Little Women – Louisa Alcott

91.                  Oliver Twist – Charles Dickens

92.                 Gulliver’s Travels – Jonathan Swift

93.                 Hans Anderson’s Fairytales – Hans Christian Anderson

94.                 Heidi – Johanna Spyri

95.                  A Midsummer Night’s Dream

96.                 Mr Happy – Roger Hargreaves

97.                 Night – Elie Wiesel

98.                 Matilda – Roald Dahl

99.                 Moby Dick – Herman Melville

100.              The Concise Oxford Dictionary

Comforting Arms of Death

Death touched me. Black sweeping and crushing in the final moments, ironically a source of comfort as it scooped up weary souls.

It was death that narrated the journey of the book thief, the main character in the number one international best seller The Book Thief, written about living and dying through the Holocaust.  The Book Thief is one of the most creative and compelling books I have ever read. The harrowing and painful demise of so many people almost sounds poetic when death finally rescues them. Only Markus Zusak could write like that.

I am thinking about Zusak’s brilliant voice as I reflect on the devastating floods, cyclones and bushfires ravaging our wide brown land. Was death a comfort to those people lost in the treacherous waters? Did death gather them, give them peace and support in their hour of need? I’d like to think that those terror stricken faces were embraced and comforted as they were taken away.

I dedicate this reflection to all the people washed under one very sad day in Queensland (and Brazil.)

You Came

You came here as a torrent,

And took my home away.

You ripped my child from my arms.

Your strength could not be matched.

Rapids of muddied debris,

hurtling down the street.

Buildings, cars and tanks now weightless,

As they were tossed in your treacherous jaws

Rivers, creeks, dams cascading into one

deadly body of water.

Swamping towns, swallowing animals,

Drowning and dragging us under.

The sky then had the audacity to suddenly

be clear and blue.

For some, the water yet to peak,

Lapping at their toes.

Rising, rising, rising.

The local pub,

Now the community hub.

Strangers resting wearily on each other.

You snatched, destroyed and burst onto our land.

You Came.

Yet our spirit will not be broken.

S.C Clifford

Kung Hei Fat Choi

Kung Hei Fat Choi and welcome to the year of the rabbit. “At his best, the Rabbit is admired for his suaveness and intelligence and sought after for his sensible advice. At his worst, he is too imaginative, oversensitive or just acidly indifferent*.”

I’ve rested and re-energised and have a New Year’s resolution to de-clutter. Condense the home, the car, the kid’s toy box (I can’t wait for this,) as well as creating space for doing what I love – writing. Yes! I am back with the absolute right to write!

My youngest trotted off to school last week attached to her 5kg school bag crammed full of stationary and books. Leaving behind mum and a trail of holiday boredom-induced destruction she bounded into her classroom. It was such a beautiful moment, like watching a bright balloon, bobbing about on a string. Still attached but ready to let go any minute.

As I turned to go, the holiday’s “I’m hungry” still echoed in my ears. How was she going to cope with structured meal times? Not my problem now. I bounded along the path, even excited by  the prospect of washing dishes, scrubbing clothes and sorting without an audience. The calmness and stillness was delightful and very self indulgent.

I don’t feel lost or flat, pining after my life as a kinder mum. My children are settled and so am I. I’m ready to quietly chip away at a few of my goals. I know you’ve been waiting for my blogging return. You and six others of course. Can I pull a rabbit out of the hat? Perhaps this Chinese New Year I can.

* www.theholidayspot.com