Thursday, September 22, 2016

Belonging

The dream of Sing Australia founder, Colin Slater, was to 'connect Australians in singing'. I have been singing with the local Riverland group since its inception 5 years ago and love the fun we have singing a wide range of songs and having lots of fun. All are welcome whether they think they can sing or not. We don't scrub up too badly either and have a regular round of gigs as well as featuring at Australia Day and Anzac events, Carols and the opening of the Rose Festival to name a few.

There are Sing Australia groups throughout Australia and so on a recent trip to Darwin I decided to check out the group there. I found the leader details on the website and rang to make sure all was as listed. They meet on Thursday nights (same night as the Riverland group) and it was going to work for us to attend. We didn't have a car so looked up the wonderful Darwin bus service and caught a bus which took us 35 minutes to get from the CBD to Nightcliff. Using the good old Google Maps we worked out where to get off and then walked to the school. Someone else arriving looked just like a Sing Australia person so we tailed her to the music room. There we were greeted like old friends.

The repertoire is a common one ie  we all sing from the same books so I was happy to slot into my usual place with the altos and sing along. There was even one song we have sung a lot which wasn't so familiar to them and they were happy for me to conduct. What fun!
But although we were part of the same organisation with the same way of running the group and common songs, there were differences. We have supper at the end; they have it in the middle. Our weekly fees are lower. We have more men (not  many more but...) They sang Blue Moon slower than us and didn't do the entry we do for Chariots. No big deal  but different all the same.

At the end of the evening we were contemplating waiting for the bus and getting back by about 10.20. Freda (the leader) wouldn't hear of it and generously drove us in to town even though her place was well and truly in the other direcion. We were able to  hear more about her life and her love of singing.

On the Sunday we sought out the local Uniting Church. We'd been there before and happily wandered in to be greeted warmly by some who immediately made the connection with people from Barmera who had lived amongst them (and coincidentally whose house we had bought). I figured it was a bit like Sing Australia. Connected by a common love, singing from the same song sheet (and reading the same text). And of course there were differences. They spoke the prayers for others from amongst the people, some of the songs were more familiar than others and so it went.
I believe the church is (or should be) more than just a club or community organisation but in both cases I was grateful for the sense of belonging, of being amongst friends. Yes, Colin, of being connected. Yes, Jesus, being part of your family.

Thursday, September 15, 2016

My Mother's coat

It was 34 degrees, sunny and muggy when we left Darwin. I was glad to finish our time away and say goodbye to the sticky heat. But I had not expected to be greeted by rain and 10 degrees on our arrival back in Adelaide.

When we left Barmera a week earlier it was a welcome spring day with sunshine and low twenties temperature, so the clothes I wore then were waiting for me in our unit and we needed to stay overnight before travelling home.
What do do? The obvious answer would be to head tot he shops and buy something new. But I have heaps of suitable things - just not where I was. But there are many garments hanging in the wardrobe. Some are archival and include the dress I wore for my 21st, a coat I had in my youth and a denim jacket my daughter loved as a teenager. All have a story to tell - not least of all of my nostalgia and reluctance to part  with them.
When my Mother died two years ago it fell to me to clear out her room at the aged care facility and so I removed her clothes. Although there had been a cull previously there were still plenty. Some I dispatched to the op shops and others I couldn't quite part with and so I hung them in my wardrobe. There must be something warm there; my mother had great taste. The only problem was that she had been a red head and her colouring and mind only overlap to some degree. There  were about six jackets to choose from - in shades of beige and fawn and brown and green. But then I found the bluish sage one, a long-line lined raincoat sort of thing and it didn't look too bad. And it was warm against the chill wind and rain of that day and the next.

We had arrived home and the next day I needed to head out. Although I had all my usual clothes to choose from I reached for my Mum's coat. How lovely to be wrapped in a sense of her continuing presence. There were two clean tissues in the pocket and I imagined her touch upon them. So snug and warm and loved.
My Dad died 34 years before Mum did and yet all those years she kept one of his jumpers - a lovely soft green one that reminded her of him and kept his presence real. When the funeral people asked me to bring in clothes for her body to be dressed in I took a favourite dress and on impulse Dad's jumper. when I went for the viewing (compulsory by law and the only viewing as Mum didn't want her coffin to be public) there was her body lying with arms folded across the jumper my Dad had worn all those years before. No wonder I  felt comforted by my mother's coat.

Sunday, September 11, 2016

Holiday Blog: More people



So we set out to walk to the Chinese museum and temple since history and the stories of people are what interest me, although we did go to Crocosaurus Cove yesterday and I surprised myself by finding it interesting and informative and I nearly touched a snake but declined to hold one. Not the baby croc nor any other reptiles.
The Chinese museum was fascinating. I didn't know that there were way more Chinese people than European settlers in Darwin in the 1890s. Thier contribution to the settlement and culture of Darwin has been amazing. Sadly it's no surprise that then (and now) there has been discrimination. Some second and third generation Australian born people of Chinese background, when asked where they come from say 'Darwin' but inevitably get the 'But where did you really come from?' response.
I enjoyed listening to recordings of the recollections of older Chinese people and reading about Chinese culture and beliefs. The temple is still used so we entered with reverence respecting that it is a worship space.
So that accomplished our mission for the day and it was very well worth it.
But the highlight for me was the serendipitous find along the way of an exhibition at the Darwin Visual Arts Association gallery. It opened Friday night. Titled 'Pyjama Years: Surviving Anxiety, Depression and Panic' it featured artwork by Leah Clarke and this morning she was there. We talked about her experience and looked at her fabulous watercolors. She shared warmly and generously about the days when she couldn't get out of her pyjamas and about what it was that brought her back to functionality again. A great sign of hope that there is a way through and to live with depression. My thoughts have gone back to her since then - her bravery, her generosity, her talent. Thank you, Leah.
And what's more, while we were talking we discovered that she lived in Berri for a while as a child.
Check out http://leahjmclarke.blogspot.com.au/ for some of her work which expresses so well her expereicne. I think her work admirably fulfills her aim of adding to the awareness of anxiety and depression and the effect it has.

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I found this on Leah's blog and loved. One of my other favourites at the exhibition included a black cat.

Friday, September 9, 2016

Another holiday blog - yep I've lost count

At the previously mentioned dinner (you did read the previous blog, didn't you?) I watched other people and listened in to snippets of their conversation. I was intrigued by the 'I've been everywhere woman' (Marg). There was a  generous supply of soft drinks and a few people bought their choice of drink from the bar. Towards the end of the evening she suggested to Peter that she buy him a  drink since he had paid for hers earlier. His response was that one was enough for him and he didn't need another.

Marg: But I owe you one.
Peter: No that's fine.
Marg: Let me pay you. (purse in hand)
Peter: No Really that's fine.
Marg: It's  my shout (becoming insistent)
Peter: Oh all right. Cab sav then. (sigh)
Marg: Ah, now we're even stevens
[I couldn't resist saying, 'But his name is Peter!']

So I know the old Aussie custom of shouting and rounds. As a non drinker I've been careful to avoid such rituals. What if there are 6 people out together? Do you have to have 6 drinks to keep it 'even stevens'
And in this case Peter was forced to have more drinks than he wanted. (She was a very pushy woman  -takes one to know one!)
But the bigger issue for me was Marg's inability to accept his paying for the first drink and leave it at that. It seemed hard for her to feel she was in his debt and she wanted to pay up. Made me think of so many times when it's not easy to accept something freely offered whether a compliment, an offer of help or the gift of God's grace so freely given.

Thursday, September 8, 2016

Holiday Blog 3

Food glorious food!
Those of you who know me well know that I like food.
But holidays are strange. Recently I have had a good friend and a family member spending time on holidays in overseas locations. Their holiday pics are interesting - including snakes and feet nibbling fish - but also heaps of exotic food. Hotel buffets and roadside snacks. Maybe it's all the go to share photos of what you are eating as people do on Facebook showing what they are having for breakfast.
So here we are on holiday and the old hunter gatherer thing kicks in. So yesterday I read a lot of menus outside eating places, keen to get value for money and something pleasant to eat. Then there's the supermarket where I checked for fresh fruit and veg. Apples are not big in the NT and it was so tempting in Woolies where they offer a free apple for  children. I was tempted to ask if I could take an apple home for my child who was not with me. Never mind that my youngest child is now 36!
I was delighted with the fruit and cheese platter leftovers that HE brought home form the workshop -- even nicer because I wasn't paying and who could not be tempted by the breakfast tray outside the next room complete with wrapped cheese platter not even touched. Must be the fact that I was brought up in the shadow of the depression or ??
But sometimes free comes at a price. Wednesday night was the workshop dinner. I expected David to go and I planned to get wedges (maybe  even lash out and get sweet potato wedges) and then watch my favourite TV - Gruen and stuff.
During the afternoon I was told I was welcome to go to the dinner. Dilemma. Dinner at the Yacht Club. Sounded OK. Casual - yep I'd packed suitable clothes. (After all, the pants had been to  Government House in Adelaide. No need to mention that they went on my friend Jan who then gave them to me.) So OK. I'd go.
We went on a bus (two busloads) with heaps of people (maybe 90 all up). I think I knew 6 of them. So we sat outside where the warm breeze dried me out.  The food was nice although Joella makes better pavlova. But I remembered why I had avoided work dinners when HE worked at Flinders in Adelaide and they all talked shop while my eyes glazed over. So it was. I did talk to someone about Shakespeare and literature and someone else about the horrors of war but my face ached from smiling at the woman who was in Las Vegas last week and San Francisco the week before who told us we should eat at Sliding Door or some restaurant there. Yeah right! So I didn't have to spend money on wedges but maybe it would have been a price well paid.

And did I mention that the sunset was a feature. Call that a sunset? Never been on the shores of Lake Bonney at dusk obviously....

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Holiday Blog 2 Incommunicado

My sister's answering machine message assures callers that she is 'incommunicado at  present ad will get back to them later.
Once upon a time holidays were a time to be 'incommunicado' (not communicating with anyone else because you do not want to or are not allowed to.) Only urgent communication happened and that not easily.
How things have changed. On day one of my holiday I answered emails from home giving info needed for an upcoming event and so did himself.
On our first trip to Darwin in 2005 our daughter was completing her thesis and needed it proofread. So we visited the Internet cafe to access it. Remember those days? Now there is free wifi in the hotel foyer and in our room as long as we sign op for the loyalty program, and while eating my fries (and free Coke because I'm a senior) in Maccas there was free access to my Facebook friends.
In the days of our first Nokias we got a call while we were in the Museum at Townsville and I remember David standing with eyes closed trying to visualise a computer keyboard and talk a colleague through some hassle.
Or there was the time when I answered his phone. He was on long service leave and despite giving instructions on who to call when needed one of the bosses called him. Unlucky for him he got me and I informed him that we were on holiday on Mt Hotham (in October) and David was inspecting the last remnant of snow. The man knew there was someone else to call but that person hadn't answered and he didn't know what else to do to solve his problem. Really. He was plaid heaps to know what to do and I nearly told him! He was suitably repentant when next I saw him.
Then of course there's social contact with family and friends. No more perusing the tourist shops and newsagents for the cheapest postcards and sending them off. (I used to send Mum a postcard each day I was away.) Instead I'll ping them a text message 'wish you were here' and maybe a picture of me in the pool or of the leftover cold pizza for breakfast. Hm! Holidays....

Holiday Blog 1

Darwin. For the fifth time. Weather - warm. Always.
So what is new? I was surprised how much looked familiar as a I roamed the CBD while HE set up for the workshop. All those techie bits in the luggage nearly brought us undone as evidently lengths of cable in the carry on luggage are a no-no. Guess I'll have to find more room in my case for it amongst the clothes and things. HE had a huge bag but it was already full of cable covers and microphones and video cameras and stuff. Along with the undies and toothbrush which is all a man needs.
So we've seen the sights before (except for the crocodiles which don't appeal to me), but I really enjoyed the day. Why? People.
First of all there was Raphael. In the concourse at the airport. I thought he was a small coffee stall and then when he asked if I knew about Manuka honey I thought he was going to give me some to taste. But no, he ended up defoliating my wrist and smoothing it with some sweet concoction all the time charming me with his South American accent. Price? 1.60 sounded good. Oh, one hundred and sixty. No thanks but have e nice day. It was a bit early in the morning for communication of any human sort (before 8 o'clock) but we joked over his phrase 'woomans and guys' and I coached him to say 'wimmin' and we wished  each other a nice day as we parted.
Then there was Umberto. He was the crew manager on the plane. He greeted me as Mrs Badger and I assured him I was Glenys. I looked at his name badge and attempted a less than Aussie pronunciation of his name and it worked! We were friends. He came to check on us during the flight and used our first names. Did he remember every person on the flight or just us because we had risked connection?
Next came Anton. Two taxis of Flinders staff (plus me as hanger onner) piled out of the cars in front of the Hilton Hotel. There was Anton with a trolley to help us.  A couple of folk looked dubious and shrugged him off. We showed him all our stuff and he went and got another trolley and hung around while we checked in and then delivered our cases to our room. Along the way we chatted about whether we could play Chopsticks together on the grand piano in the foyer and other bits and pieces.
Finally. Food. What to eat? Well Mitchell street seemed full of eateries so we headed off. We were standing outside one place trying to work out the Tuesday $10 pizza deal and the burger and ale (Something Yak) deal when along came Leah, bright and chirpy and explained it all, even taking us to the bar to try the said Yak (Ewww) and brokering a soft drink exchange. We ordered, she told us she was from South Aus and assured us it was too hot to be bitchy. She wafted past like a breath of fresh air as we ate and made sure all was well. And it was.
Readers of this blog (I think there are about 8 of you now!) know I'm a hopeless tourist. So what does it for me? People. Oh and maybe food, but that's another story.