At Christmas 2005, shortly before I started blogging, I put a piece of my homework from my writing class, 'Ain't Life Grand', in a few Christmas cards I sent to friends. I think I spend all this time writing because I like to share my thoughts with my friends and whoever else may be interested. The path one takes in life can be viewed as one big random accident, or as part of an orchestrated plan that's predetermined. Who knows which is right?
Well, blow me down with a feather. An email came yesterday with the subject- Re Just re reading your 'Aint Life Grand'. My friend Glenda asked, "How is the Douglas Fir? Has it survived?
At first I had to think hard about just what it was she was referring to. I haven't got a copy of 'Aint Life Grand', but the gist of it was how I was struggling with my pre Christmas workload in the December heat, whippy snipping the grass in the rosemary plantation at Nobelius Park. Just as I was flagging under sweat and dust and wondering why I bothered, like a bolt from the blue a blast of inspiration hit me when I saw a young Douglas Fir tree I'd planted some time earlier, a tree given to me as a seedling by a dear friend of mine who had pricked it from her garden, potted it, and passed it on to me. She'd given me one earlier, I'd planted it in the park, and some low bastard pinched it. I waited a year or so, thinking the thief may have moved on or been run over by a bus, and planted the replacement. And here it was standing about 5feet high with a big shoot of growth on top, thriving, and now too big to be dug out by the average petty thief. I hoped it wouldn't be sawn off by someone wanting a tree for Christmas.
It has survived, and is now a substantial young tree some 10-12 feet high. It may not have a long term future, as it is in an area of the park which the Vegation Management Plan, conducted by consultants after I planted the tree, designates as important for view lines, and therefore have low growing plantations. Not the place, in other words, for a 140 ft. conifer as the Douglas would one day be. In the last year, a number of mature trees were removed adjacent this area to restore a view to and from the Packing Shed as per the management plan. As Curator of the park I'm bound to the management plan and resigned myself to the fact that one day Freda Lucas's Douglas Fir may have to go. We are planting new trees in the park to improve it and this is a fact of life with gardens and parks, long term planning is necessary.
I have to finish this story with an update of my involvement in Nobelius Park, and I'm thankful to Glenda's email for the prompt. I have officially acted as Curator for nine years, after the ill health of Gus Ryberg necessitated I move from 'Assistant Curator'. I've been on the committee of management for 22 years and served as President of Emerald Museum and Nobelius Park Committee in 1998/9.
The last year has been tumultuous for the Committee. In short, the President resigned last November after 12/13 continuous years as secretary or president. The secretary resigned at the same time. The VP reluctantly became president, the lady who was about to step into the Treasurer's role to relieve our 92 yo Treasurer, who needed a break, became Secretary. In the New Year, the Secretary took on Treasurer as well. We continued till April when the new President resigned from the committee and, almost simultaneously the new Secretary/Treasurer suffered a severe back injury. At the May meeting I was elected President, Old George stepped back in as temporary Treasurer and another Committee member filled in as Acting Secretary.
We got to the Biennial General Meeting last week. I was elected President. There were no acceptances for Secretary or Treasurer. There was no Committee elected. We didn't get to 'Curator'. So now officially I have no role whatsoever. It's in the Cardinia Shire Council's court as to what happens now. They own the Park and Museum building. All I can know is that I did my best for a long time and can walk away proud for that.
Ain't life grand.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Act Justly, Love Tenderly....
My mother Elvie, who is also a work colleague and good friend, spent last week in hospital having a minor operation on her eye, an attempt to improve her vision following a heammorrage behind her good eye. In short, with macular degeneration causing this deterioration, her vision is severely limited and she's resigned to blindness at some point.
She hadn't felt well for some days before the appointment at St. Vincent's private hospital in Melbourne, having the flu, pain in her abdomen, and nausea, causing lack of appetite. Meredith's GP husband Roger wrote a letter for Elv to take with her detailing her symptoms and making some suggestions for tests. Consequently Elv was in hospital from Monday to Saturday evening having all manner of tests including gastroscopy, colonoscopy etc. She didn't eat all week.
Her eyesight maybe slightly better she says, however they could find no cause for the pain and nausea which remains. But she is now eating. She is so glad to be home, and is throwing herself at her work, which she loves. We talked while we had afternoon tea yesterday. A religious lady, a Baptist historically, she had to fill out a form where you tick boxes. She ticked Baptist on the religion question, thinking it was protocol only, in case you died on them or looked like it.
To her surprise she was visited a couple of days later by a Bappo minister with whom she had much in common in terms of belief, values, and general interest. He was a lovely man who brightened the otherwise arduous and boring week. She didn't expect this in a Catholic hospital. As we spoke I looked at a letter Elv had placed in front of me on the table, where I always sit. It was from George, a Catholic priest who is working in Peru after some years in Chile until a year or so ago. George is Elvie's old friend Pat's nephew (Pat worked for Elvie in the Sth Yarra florist shop from about 1960- 1973 and the two were great friends until Pat died of lung cancer last year). He often brought Pat up to see us at Christmas when he was in Australia, or Lyle and Elvie drove down to Pat's.
The letter was dated last March and I'd read it before. It was interesting to me particularly, having visited Peru with Lib in 2005. I told Elvie I'd write to George after she had, then promply forgot about it. Elv didn't get around to it either, and now her letter writing days are over due to the diminished eyesight, so she passed it back to me.
Now George is one of the nicest blokes you could meet. A huge bear of of a man with an obvious love of good tucker, always a good sign, he's open minded, tolerant of other beliefs, and compassionate to the poverty and misfortune in the third world countries he works. We are not close friends, but I wanted to write to him as I understood from his letters he was having a difficult time in Peru with his superiors and in some cases a less than ideal relationship with parishioners.
I quote some of his most recent letter.
"Last night I and Allan went to hear Fr. Marcos Arana, a diocesan priest from Cajamarca in the north of Peru talk about 'Poverty and Ecology'. The region where he works suffers from a lot of conflict between mining interests, some of them Australian, and small farmers who depend on the water miners contaminate to irrigate their crops. He told us that statistically 86% of all water used in Peru is directed towards agricultural use which is responsible for 2% of the contamination of water in the country. Mining in contrastwhich provides only 2% of the workforce pollutes up to 25% of all water sources in Peru. It seems to be an unhappy coincidence that a lot of the gold sought by miners is found near the available water resources used by agriculturalists who soon find themselves in conflict with the mining consortiums who contaminate the water used by both. Unfortunately too the gov't imposes few controls on the mining companies by way of insisting that they clean up the areas mined afterwards as would happen in the USA or Australia etc., so many small agriculturalists are left unprotected by the very people who should protect them. It's a sad fact of life here in Peru that the Gov't is hellbent on helping outside monied interests maximise their profits often at the expense of local people. At this very moment the Peruvian Gov't is trying to pass a law that will make access to water an economic commodity that can be utilized by those with money rather than as a human right. A lot of social injustice in Peru begins at high levels and that plus the endemic corruption so evident in this country make it hard for the poor who have very little protection before the law. People here have very little faith in the law and gov't institutions. One example of this occurred in the north of Peru recently. Three would be bandits stopped a bus to rob all the passengers. However their luck ran out when the passengers suddenly realised that the three men were only carrying fake guns and toy pistols. They were lynched by the outraged mob and died on the very edge of the road where they would have made their escape had their guns been real. What is the motto here? Don't steal or rob, or only with real guns?
I would like to thank those friends of mine who have sent gifts of money to help me with my mission work. I really appreciate your help and for thinking of me. Anyway, I hope that this brief letter finds you all well in Australia and that the blessings of the risen Lord bring you much joy this Easter.
Yours in Christ,
Fr. George **********.
P.S. Elvie, I trust life is treating you kindly. I keep Lyle in my prayers. I'm sure he's up there with God preparing the banquet."
While Elv was waiting in the foyer at St. V's for her Emerald Taxi she saw some writing on a window. She could make out "Act", so she went over to investigate. The full script said,
"Act Justly,
Love Tenderly,
Walk humbly with your God."
It's from the Bible, Micah 6 verse 8. If people regardless of race, religion, or nationality heeded those 9 words, we'd be close to paradise on Earth.
She hadn't felt well for some days before the appointment at St. Vincent's private hospital in Melbourne, having the flu, pain in her abdomen, and nausea, causing lack of appetite. Meredith's GP husband Roger wrote a letter for Elv to take with her detailing her symptoms and making some suggestions for tests. Consequently Elv was in hospital from Monday to Saturday evening having all manner of tests including gastroscopy, colonoscopy etc. She didn't eat all week.
Her eyesight maybe slightly better she says, however they could find no cause for the pain and nausea which remains. But she is now eating. She is so glad to be home, and is throwing herself at her work, which she loves. We talked while we had afternoon tea yesterday. A religious lady, a Baptist historically, she had to fill out a form where you tick boxes. She ticked Baptist on the religion question, thinking it was protocol only, in case you died on them or looked like it.
To her surprise she was visited a couple of days later by a Bappo minister with whom she had much in common in terms of belief, values, and general interest. He was a lovely man who brightened the otherwise arduous and boring week. She didn't expect this in a Catholic hospital. As we spoke I looked at a letter Elv had placed in front of me on the table, where I always sit. It was from George, a Catholic priest who is working in Peru after some years in Chile until a year or so ago. George is Elvie's old friend Pat's nephew (Pat worked for Elvie in the Sth Yarra florist shop from about 1960- 1973 and the two were great friends until Pat died of lung cancer last year). He often brought Pat up to see us at Christmas when he was in Australia, or Lyle and Elvie drove down to Pat's.
The letter was dated last March and I'd read it before. It was interesting to me particularly, having visited Peru with Lib in 2005. I told Elvie I'd write to George after she had, then promply forgot about it. Elv didn't get around to it either, and now her letter writing days are over due to the diminished eyesight, so she passed it back to me.
Now George is one of the nicest blokes you could meet. A huge bear of of a man with an obvious love of good tucker, always a good sign, he's open minded, tolerant of other beliefs, and compassionate to the poverty and misfortune in the third world countries he works. We are not close friends, but I wanted to write to him as I understood from his letters he was having a difficult time in Peru with his superiors and in some cases a less than ideal relationship with parishioners.
I quote some of his most recent letter.
"Last night I and Allan went to hear Fr. Marcos Arana, a diocesan priest from Cajamarca in the north of Peru talk about 'Poverty and Ecology'. The region where he works suffers from a lot of conflict between mining interests, some of them Australian, and small farmers who depend on the water miners contaminate to irrigate their crops. He told us that statistically 86% of all water used in Peru is directed towards agricultural use which is responsible for 2% of the contamination of water in the country. Mining in contrastwhich provides only 2% of the workforce pollutes up to 25% of all water sources in Peru. It seems to be an unhappy coincidence that a lot of the gold sought by miners is found near the available water resources used by agriculturalists who soon find themselves in conflict with the mining consortiums who contaminate the water used by both. Unfortunately too the gov't imposes few controls on the mining companies by way of insisting that they clean up the areas mined afterwards as would happen in the USA or Australia etc., so many small agriculturalists are left unprotected by the very people who should protect them. It's a sad fact of life here in Peru that the Gov't is hellbent on helping outside monied interests maximise their profits often at the expense of local people. At this very moment the Peruvian Gov't is trying to pass a law that will make access to water an economic commodity that can be utilized by those with money rather than as a human right. A lot of social injustice in Peru begins at high levels and that plus the endemic corruption so evident in this country make it hard for the poor who have very little protection before the law. People here have very little faith in the law and gov't institutions. One example of this occurred in the north of Peru recently. Three would be bandits stopped a bus to rob all the passengers. However their luck ran out when the passengers suddenly realised that the three men were only carrying fake guns and toy pistols. They were lynched by the outraged mob and died on the very edge of the road where they would have made their escape had their guns been real. What is the motto here? Don't steal or rob, or only with real guns?
I would like to thank those friends of mine who have sent gifts of money to help me with my mission work. I really appreciate your help and for thinking of me. Anyway, I hope that this brief letter finds you all well in Australia and that the blessings of the risen Lord bring you much joy this Easter.
Yours in Christ,
Fr. George **********.
P.S. Elvie, I trust life is treating you kindly. I keep Lyle in my prayers. I'm sure he's up there with God preparing the banquet."
While Elv was waiting in the foyer at St. V's for her Emerald Taxi she saw some writing on a window. She could make out "Act", so she went over to investigate. The full script said,
"Act Justly,
Love Tenderly,
Walk humbly with your God."
It's from the Bible, Micah 6 verse 8. If people regardless of race, religion, or nationality heeded those 9 words, we'd be close to paradise on Earth.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Still No Pinging
Touch wood, still no bellbirds yet around home.
Whilst walking down Monbulk Rd. in Emerald last Friday I heard some, but not here at home. I was surprised to hear them in Emerald. I went to my writing class at the community centre, keen to see my old classmates and maybe a new bod or two, only to find the new term doesn't start till next Friday. I'd sent Gordy on to the farm in the van with instruction to come back and pick me up at 3 o'clock, so I relished the opportunity to walk.
I love to walk. You hear and see so much more than travelling in a car. It's all happening in birdland. On the weekend I saw a family of small birds in our street, thornbills I suspect, busily twittering and working through a messmate tree, feeding on tiny insects on the leaves. These are the insects that the bellbirds 'farm', in order to feed on the sweet sticky secretions. They aggressively chase away all the small birds, the natural predators of these insects, which in turn leads to a population increase of insects which can be to the point of causing tree ill health and death.
I also saw a tree creeper on our place, working up and down the trunk after insects/grubs, which I've not seen here before. I suspect it has moved in the absence of bellbirds.
Mr Whippy is back. I saw him when attracted by his scritchy cackling the other day and since then have heard both he and his partner calling. They must be getting ready to start a new family. I saw a crow fly high overhead with a stick in its mouth into the top of a tall pine tree in Quinn Rd. last week. There's been plenty of galahs around, looking relaxed, and some black cockies. Both these tend to move in and out. There's also lots of currawongs, magpies, and peewees, along with the the rosellas, spinebills, doves, blackbirds, minas and white cockies. On my walk I noticed many times bits of bay leaves on the pavement near the bus stop outside the pub and wondered what was eating them, until I saw a group of immature crimson rosellas chewing the flower buds and breaking bits off the tree as they did. Every day I watch and listen for the return of the bellbirds but so far so good.
It was sunny this morning and dry underfoot after a couple of windy days. Following the good rain of a week or two back, another 50 ml plus, Melbourne's reservoirs finally started to rise instead of fall. One day they went up 2000 megalitres in a 24hr period, and for the next week they've continued to rise although the daily increase has now dwindled to about 200 meg. a day. We need more rain in the catchments to keep the flows up.
Whilst walking down Monbulk Rd. in Emerald last Friday I heard some, but not here at home. I was surprised to hear them in Emerald. I went to my writing class at the community centre, keen to see my old classmates and maybe a new bod or two, only to find the new term doesn't start till next Friday. I'd sent Gordy on to the farm in the van with instruction to come back and pick me up at 3 o'clock, so I relished the opportunity to walk.
I love to walk. You hear and see so much more than travelling in a car. It's all happening in birdland. On the weekend I saw a family of small birds in our street, thornbills I suspect, busily twittering and working through a messmate tree, feeding on tiny insects on the leaves. These are the insects that the bellbirds 'farm', in order to feed on the sweet sticky secretions. They aggressively chase away all the small birds, the natural predators of these insects, which in turn leads to a population increase of insects which can be to the point of causing tree ill health and death.
I also saw a tree creeper on our place, working up and down the trunk after insects/grubs, which I've not seen here before. I suspect it has moved in the absence of bellbirds.
Mr Whippy is back. I saw him when attracted by his scritchy cackling the other day and since then have heard both he and his partner calling. They must be getting ready to start a new family. I saw a crow fly high overhead with a stick in its mouth into the top of a tall pine tree in Quinn Rd. last week. There's been plenty of galahs around, looking relaxed, and some black cockies. Both these tend to move in and out. There's also lots of currawongs, magpies, and peewees, along with the the rosellas, spinebills, doves, blackbirds, minas and white cockies. On my walk I noticed many times bits of bay leaves on the pavement near the bus stop outside the pub and wondered what was eating them, until I saw a group of immature crimson rosellas chewing the flower buds and breaking bits off the tree as they did. Every day I watch and listen for the return of the bellbirds but so far so good.
It was sunny this morning and dry underfoot after a couple of windy days. Following the good rain of a week or two back, another 50 ml plus, Melbourne's reservoirs finally started to rise instead of fall. One day they went up 2000 megalitres in a 24hr period, and for the next week they've continued to rise although the daily increase has now dwindled to about 200 meg. a day. We need more rain in the catchments to keep the flows up.
Monday, July 13, 2009
You Don't Notice What's Not There
A few weeks ago I realised I hadn't seen or heard a bellbird for a while. I didn't rush to blog about it, it may be that they're around, but quieter and less visible in early winter, when logically the aggression of these angry beasties may be reduced due to no breeding or young to protect. I meant to ask Lib and the boys if they'd seen or heard them, but kept forgetting, then when I eventually did they said they hadn't noticed their abscence.
I still haven't seen or heard one, and, as they're reputed to be nomadic, they may well return to breed soon. I live in hope they may have moved on for an extended period, giving other small birds a bit of a go, and even kookaburras, which I have heard in our immediate area in the mornings. Normally they're harrassed unmercifully by bellbirds if they venture into their territory.
I still haven't seen or heard one, and, as they're reputed to be nomadic, they may well return to breed soon. I live in hope they may have moved on for an extended period, giving other small birds a bit of a go, and even kookaburras, which I have heard in our immediate area in the mornings. Normally they're harrassed unmercifully by bellbirds if they venture into their territory.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Swelling Buds
The western slopes of hills, gullies and dips, shaded areas where the sun had not reached, and even the rooves of some houses, were white with frost this morning.
On my way up I dropped off a bottle of wine, a Taylors Clare valley cab sav, and an old book I grabbed in haste, 'Exodus' by Leon Uris, at Lance and Fiona's. I wrote a card wishing Lance happy 40th birthday. Last week on my walk I met Fiona, she invited me to the party of last Saturday 4th July, but I didn't make it. The boys and I went to the footy that day to watch the Demons beat the Eagles in a rare victory this year. Lib didn't come, she had a relapse of the flu and stayed in bed. After a busy week and the footy I was too tired to take on a party.
I don't know if Lance and Fiona are wine drinkers but if not, the wine is a gesture of good cheer and will be handy one day when they entertain. I read 'Exodus' many years ago, more than ten, and enjoyed it, although I'd have to read it again to discuss it with someone. I like historical type narrative a la Uris/Michener. If Lance isn't a reader there's no harm done, maybe Fiona is, or he can pass it on. But what better than good wine and a good book as a gesture? I already have given them plenty of honey in exchange for the English box I've picked in their garden.
Another day of bright sunshine after the frost. The trees and gardens look happy after the 50ml plus of rain over the last week. We've been picking plenty of early prunus blossom, also japonica, the allspice was a treat, and hellabores are flowering. Melbourne's water storages have at last starting going up rather than down. All is well when it rains. Rain. The Quencher. Of thirst and parched landscape. The antidote of bushfires.
I was surprised on Sunday to see the swelling buds on the lilac trees. They seem so advanced. Last Friday in Glen Binstead's garden he said the same thing, when I went there to dig up suckers under a mauve lilac, after he'd offered them to me. I left them in a bag till Sunday when I potted them, and was pleased to have 25 in total. I put them next to the white ones I dug at Huit's last winter, which are ready to plant out. The buds are big and strong looking. All too soon the spring rush.
On my way up I dropped off a bottle of wine, a Taylors Clare valley cab sav, and an old book I grabbed in haste, 'Exodus' by Leon Uris, at Lance and Fiona's. I wrote a card wishing Lance happy 40th birthday. Last week on my walk I met Fiona, she invited me to the party of last Saturday 4th July, but I didn't make it. The boys and I went to the footy that day to watch the Demons beat the Eagles in a rare victory this year. Lib didn't come, she had a relapse of the flu and stayed in bed. After a busy week and the footy I was too tired to take on a party.
I don't know if Lance and Fiona are wine drinkers but if not, the wine is a gesture of good cheer and will be handy one day when they entertain. I read 'Exodus' many years ago, more than ten, and enjoyed it, although I'd have to read it again to discuss it with someone. I like historical type narrative a la Uris/Michener. If Lance isn't a reader there's no harm done, maybe Fiona is, or he can pass it on. But what better than good wine and a good book as a gesture? I already have given them plenty of honey in exchange for the English box I've picked in their garden.
Another day of bright sunshine after the frost. The trees and gardens look happy after the 50ml plus of rain over the last week. We've been picking plenty of early prunus blossom, also japonica, the allspice was a treat, and hellabores are flowering. Melbourne's water storages have at last starting going up rather than down. All is well when it rains. Rain. The Quencher. Of thirst and parched landscape. The antidote of bushfires.
I was surprised on Sunday to see the swelling buds on the lilac trees. They seem so advanced. Last Friday in Glen Binstead's garden he said the same thing, when I went there to dig up suckers under a mauve lilac, after he'd offered them to me. I left them in a bag till Sunday when I potted them, and was pleased to have 25 in total. I put them next to the white ones I dug at Huit's last winter, which are ready to plant out. The buds are big and strong looking. All too soon the spring rush.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
A Fiery Torch
The contrast today, from yesterday morning, was extreme. Today bright sunshine, clear blue skies. Yesterday, an enveloping mist restricting vision in every direction.
It was exhilerating today as I went up Launching Place Rd. The sun, rising over the northeast hills, shone brilliantly on a liquid amber tree in Kevin and Denise Burns' garden. The tree, amazingly still holding it's leaves and 'autumn' colour, lit up in a blaze of gold and orange through to bright purple in a spectacular natural performance, reminding me what wonderful solar receptors trees are.
The little piece of Earth I call home is rejoicing in the rain of the last few days.
It was exhilerating today as I went up Launching Place Rd. The sun, rising over the northeast hills, shone brilliantly on a liquid amber tree in Kevin and Denise Burns' garden. The tree, amazingly still holding it's leaves and 'autumn' colour, lit up in a blaze of gold and orange through to bright purple in a spectacular natural performance, reminding me what wonderful solar receptors trees are.
The little piece of Earth I call home is rejoicing in the rain of the last few days.
Friday, July 03, 2009
Good Luck Jim
I like to think I met Jim Stynes once, even though it was a fleeting exchange between us. Only two sentences, as he walked past me.
"G'day mate, How're you doing?" Jim stands about 198cm in his socks, but as he spoke in his strong Irish accent, he looked up at me in my bright yellow raincoat, standing on a platform in the light rain.
"I'm good mate. Thanks. Have a good year."
Jim continued walking but I could tell he would have stopped for a yarn if I'd shown I wanted him to. As the rain was getting heavier and the crowd was dispersing, I didn't want to hold him up, especially as he'd just finished signing autographs for a queue of people in a marquee.
We were on the oval at Caulfield Grammar school, at the family day of the Melbourne Football Club early in 1999. I know what year it was, we were on our way to catch the 'Spirit of Tasmania' for a family camping holiday in the car we bought in May 1998. We dropped in on the family day on the way to Port Melbourne.
Gordon would have been thirteen years old, and he was the last person in Jim's queue. He'd been trying to muster the courage for an an hour or so to approach Jim, his favourite player, as the players mingled with fans. Shy kids like Gord can often be left out. I'd encouraged Gord a number of times to make a move, explaining that this day was all about supporters being able to mix with players and get autographs. I was determined not to spoon feed him, and do it for him. Lib and Rob were off somewhere else getting autographs, but Gord stayed close to either me or Jim.
As the rain started, the crowd thinned quickly. I reckon I was the only person with a raincoat as I stood on the temporary stage, a good vantage point for short fellas, where the players had earlier been introduced, and watched Gord jump on the end of Jim's queue when there were only three left. I was pleased he'd taken the plunge. When there was only one person ahead of him I was expecting Gord to bolt at the last minute, but he didn't.
Gord, with his back to me, stepped up to Jim with his pen and paper to be signed. Jim's mouth was moving so I could tell he was talking to Gord. As he did he looked over Gord's head in my direction, about 30 or forty feet away. I think I had a beaming smile, I was so happy Gord had met and talked to his hero, and off his own bat.
Jim shook Gord's hand and, with no more people in the queue, left the marquee and walked directly towards me, said his g'day, and kept walking. I knew Jim had seen me standing back watching and had read the situation perfectly. I was so impressed by his perception.
Jim retired that year. Melbourne's revival of 1998, when they made the prelim final with new coach Neale Daniher, and young springheeled ruckman Jeff White playing a leading role, didn't translate to 1999. Jim was a battle scarred old war horse hanging on in the hope of a premiership, but it wasn't to be. He retired before the season was out if I recall correctly.
Ten years on, I'm not surprised by the enormous achievements of Jim Stynes since his playing retirement. I sent him a Christmas card last December. I wished him all the best and thanked him for his efforts to save the MFC. I included a note, saying a friend of mine, a 92 year old lady in Gembrook, Grace Delarue, told me a couple of years ago her son finished his minor sponsorsip with Melbourne, for the reason that the club hadn't followed through on it's end of the arrangement, despite a number of requests. I always felt I should write to the President of the MFC to inform them, but I didn't get around to it. When Jim became President my intention reaffirmed but I still didn't get around to it. Jim launched the fundraising campaign which raised $3.1 million. I sent the Christmas card in a rush, disappointed I hadn't written earlier as intended. I knew the club was searching for corporate sponsorship, but my message to Jim was that if reparations hadn't been made with Grace's son, it was time it was righted.
I don't know how much, if any, my note contributed, it may have all been in the pipeline anyway, but I like to think I played a part. On our way back from holiday in March, when Lib and I pulled in to a motel in Mt. Gambier and read the Herald Sun, a sports headline gave details of new major sponsor for the MFC, none other than Delarue Tyres (distributor of Hankook Tyres). Grace's son Laurie's company had committed $2.25 million over 3 years.
We, along with thousands of others I'm sure, will be sending Jim and his family our best wishes in his current battle.
"G'day mate, How're you doing?" Jim stands about 198cm in his socks, but as he spoke in his strong Irish accent, he looked up at me in my bright yellow raincoat, standing on a platform in the light rain.
"I'm good mate. Thanks. Have a good year."
Jim continued walking but I could tell he would have stopped for a yarn if I'd shown I wanted him to. As the rain was getting heavier and the crowd was dispersing, I didn't want to hold him up, especially as he'd just finished signing autographs for a queue of people in a marquee.
We were on the oval at Caulfield Grammar school, at the family day of the Melbourne Football Club early in 1999. I know what year it was, we were on our way to catch the 'Spirit of Tasmania' for a family camping holiday in the car we bought in May 1998. We dropped in on the family day on the way to Port Melbourne.
Gordon would have been thirteen years old, and he was the last person in Jim's queue. He'd been trying to muster the courage for an an hour or so to approach Jim, his favourite player, as the players mingled with fans. Shy kids like Gord can often be left out. I'd encouraged Gord a number of times to make a move, explaining that this day was all about supporters being able to mix with players and get autographs. I was determined not to spoon feed him, and do it for him. Lib and Rob were off somewhere else getting autographs, but Gord stayed close to either me or Jim.
As the rain started, the crowd thinned quickly. I reckon I was the only person with a raincoat as I stood on the temporary stage, a good vantage point for short fellas, where the players had earlier been introduced, and watched Gord jump on the end of Jim's queue when there were only three left. I was pleased he'd taken the plunge. When there was only one person ahead of him I was expecting Gord to bolt at the last minute, but he didn't.
Gord, with his back to me, stepped up to Jim with his pen and paper to be signed. Jim's mouth was moving so I could tell he was talking to Gord. As he did he looked over Gord's head in my direction, about 30 or forty feet away. I think I had a beaming smile, I was so happy Gord had met and talked to his hero, and off his own bat.
Jim shook Gord's hand and, with no more people in the queue, left the marquee and walked directly towards me, said his g'day, and kept walking. I knew Jim had seen me standing back watching and had read the situation perfectly. I was so impressed by his perception.
Jim retired that year. Melbourne's revival of 1998, when they made the prelim final with new coach Neale Daniher, and young springheeled ruckman Jeff White playing a leading role, didn't translate to 1999. Jim was a battle scarred old war horse hanging on in the hope of a premiership, but it wasn't to be. He retired before the season was out if I recall correctly.
Ten years on, I'm not surprised by the enormous achievements of Jim Stynes since his playing retirement. I sent him a Christmas card last December. I wished him all the best and thanked him for his efforts to save the MFC. I included a note, saying a friend of mine, a 92 year old lady in Gembrook, Grace Delarue, told me a couple of years ago her son finished his minor sponsorsip with Melbourne, for the reason that the club hadn't followed through on it's end of the arrangement, despite a number of requests. I always felt I should write to the President of the MFC to inform them, but I didn't get around to it. When Jim became President my intention reaffirmed but I still didn't get around to it. Jim launched the fundraising campaign which raised $3.1 million. I sent the Christmas card in a rush, disappointed I hadn't written earlier as intended. I knew the club was searching for corporate sponsorship, but my message to Jim was that if reparations hadn't been made with Grace's son, it was time it was righted.
I don't know how much, if any, my note contributed, it may have all been in the pipeline anyway, but I like to think I played a part. On our way back from holiday in March, when Lib and I pulled in to a motel in Mt. Gambier and read the Herald Sun, a sports headline gave details of new major sponsor for the MFC, none other than Delarue Tyres (distributor of Hankook Tyres). Grace's son Laurie's company had committed $2.25 million over 3 years.
We, along with thousands of others I'm sure, will be sending Jim and his family our best wishes in his current battle.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
New Financial Year
The first of July has come with gales from the northwest. They huffed and puffed and tried to blow my house down for 24 hours. During the night, they blew over 'The Fussy Painter's' garbage bin in Launching Place Rd., spreading all manner of plastic, foodscraps, old toilet roll centres and assorted litter over about 100 metres of roadway. I'm sure he'll gather it up when he knows. I don't know him but by the way he waves and calls out "hello" I'm sure he wouldn't be the type to leave his litter in the street. He must have missed the pick up last week, or the truck simply missed his bin.
That can happen. Leo and Pat Buckley's hard waste was left on the nature strip last week, while everyone else's was collected. When they rang to report it being left behind, the contractors wouldn't believe, at first, that it was out there beforehand. There was a heated exchange. Pat hung up in the end saying, "Well, I haven't got time to argue with you about it." The contractors rang back apologizing, saying it would be collected. It's still there today.
Fortunately there are no trees down. At least the wind brought some rain with it, although, again, disappointingly, it was only 6ml. The paper this morning said that the reservoirs went down by over 700 megalitres in the 24 hours before yesterday's reading. The sky is grey and heavy without a skerrick of blue, so maybe there's a bit more to come yet in this change.
That can happen. Leo and Pat Buckley's hard waste was left on the nature strip last week, while everyone else's was collected. When they rang to report it being left behind, the contractors wouldn't believe, at first, that it was out there beforehand. There was a heated exchange. Pat hung up in the end saying, "Well, I haven't got time to argue with you about it." The contractors rang back apologizing, saying it would be collected. It's still there today.
Fortunately there are no trees down. At least the wind brought some rain with it, although, again, disappointingly, it was only 6ml. The paper this morning said that the reservoirs went down by over 700 megalitres in the 24 hours before yesterday's reading. The sky is grey and heavy without a skerrick of blue, so maybe there's a bit more to come yet in this change.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)