Last one for tonight... This little girl would have been born in about 1910 or thereabouts. She was a close cousin and lifelong friend of mum's and the most tolerant and happy of aunts you could hope to have. Her name was Nancy McGoldrick, and althouh its faded to me it is a beautiful photo of a child that was, and of the person she became because she did hold that child inside. 

And yeah...we even took photos of our cats in honoured places in the 1920's...and we all know how much someone just loves cats....Hm 

See Charlie - Mum's horse does so have a head... and a tail...see ...see

This is the clearest photo I have of Mum and her parents. Mum's mother was the daughter of the old man holding her in an earlier photo. By the time this photo was taken mum's mother's health was failing and its evident in this photo. In those days they said someone was "frail", while these days its Chronic Fatigue caused by a multiple of poisons.

Sje topped the state before marriage in pianoforte and I still have some of her hand written music. Mum inherited that love of sound and harmony which made all our lives much richer.

You know when I look at these people I know that it is true that nothing seperates us all but time.

This is anothe view of that "good year" house.

I would have loved to see the inside. 

This is a picture of our mum taken when she was about 5, about a year after her own mum died. She often spoke about the big old draught horse (Clydesdale?) she rode as a kid...such a happy little vegemite in this photo...about 1932. 

Copy of letter sent locally and to World Vision international
The Hastings Safe Water Association
31/1/06
World Vision’s omits important fact from their current add.
Dear Editor,
We are asking that the Head of World Vision Australia please apologise to the Australian people for the deception caused by the wording of their current adds regarding the child Thomas.

In the televised add presently showing, we are told that the crippling condition Thomas and his siblings suffer from is caused by “dirty water”.

What the add omits to tell us is that it is not the dirty water which causes Thomas’s actual bone disease. As explained in the full text of the World Vision text, which is copyrighted, 2006 but last modified 23/12/05

“Ten-year-old Thomas lives with his parents, brothers and sisters in rural
Tanzania. All five children suffer from a debilitating condition caused by
drinking dirty water. Thomas with his sisters and one of his brothers. Their only water source had a high content of naturally occurring fluoride. Over time it caused calcium to leach from their bones and teeth. In severe cases, this can weaken and damage the bones. Thomas' brother Zakayo is so badly affected now he needs crutches to walk.” © (Copyright World Vision Australia 2006. All rights reserved. Last Modified: Friday, December 23, 2005.)

Australians would still dig deep if they thought it was dirty water or fluoride which caused what we would now call crippling Skeletal Fluorosis, so we have to ask why were we not told the true cause of Thomas’ and his siblings’ illness?

Could it be that to link the word Fluoride with any thing as dreadful as a crippled child is not politically correct in the current climate in Australia? I would hope that World Vision was more independent and responsible than that. Is Fluoride the protected pollutant, because Government policy is attempting to fluoridate 100% of Australians at present?

It would be appalling to think that World Vision has bowed to political pressure and ensured that Australians were kept from knowing the true cause of illness of the children it is trying to help. Answers World vision please?
Yours sincerely
Therese Mackay

Our two laughing girls 

Two Laughing Girls

Two Laughing Girls.

Two laughing girls live with us.
I see them walking towards my van;
heads bent in talking; flashing teeth.
Love sparkles zip around them.
No harm in them. They are pure and joyful.
It is a golden time for us and I am aware of it.
I feel the blessings of all our fortune,
washing over me like the life in Earth’s oceans.
Shining in me like the fire of Earth’s furnaces.
Blowing through my soul like the sweetness of Earth’s air;
Sitting solid and substantial on my being
like the soil of Earth’s growing.


All the meaning in the universe can be seen in our two laughing girls -
walking; exchanging secrets.
All the love of God is falling about their heads.
And I know the meaning of life is to love, love, love.
The meaning walks in all young creatures;
it breathes in Earth’s flowers
and sighs in Earth’s trees.
The meaning shines from Jupiter’s moons
and throbs from our Sun -
it calls across space that is swimming with life.
Nothing exists without this meaning - at some level.
Without the spark - absolutely nothing.
(I can’t imagine nothing)
And that spark glows like a sun in my heart.


Up to the van, our two laughing girls.
Sunstreaks in their hair and light in their eyes.
They live so much in the eternal now -
drawing with them eons past and pulling them to eons future.
Breast stroking across reality, light of the first creation.
Chuckling over simple things and bringing life with them.
I will know myself when the love I feel for them
is felt for every one of Earth’s children;
and the idea of responsibility for life is always with me.
They are my lessons and I am theirs.
They make me feel humbled by the scope of life
and I marvel at its joys.

Written in 1991

Thanks for your comments re the old photos (I have heaps and they are mostly like the ones already on). Because of your interest and because I have had the feeling for a long time to do this for my people, I am now committing to picking the choice photos and putting them together with a stroy about each one. My idea is to post them here as I do them, and then put them all together and see what i can do with them.

My Mother wrote one small story not long before she died and I will retype that one and add it to the photos of the "Good year" house. Not sure where I'll go from there but it needs to be done I feel for me, and for those who came before who were maybe much better than me, but have no voice...because there was no time to have the voice we have due to the times and how hard life was.

I will appreciate criticisms ad as a middle child I do have a very thick skin... needs must you know. Hopefully by the end of this year I will have enough to offer someone who publishes his kind of thing, that they might consider and hopefully accept.

Its just thanks to the interest and encouragement of you mob. Otherwise I would have just drifted along for more years doing dribs and dabs... as we do.

Maybe this was that sulky that took them to town. This one is driven by my grandfather (Mum's dad) while he was still young in the 1920's. He raised mum after her mother died when she was four. For us kids he was a wonderful grandfather and we spent much time with him till he died in 1962. This man was a stoic with none of the fizz and lame of people his wife came from. They were music and laughter and sparkle. He was solid with a dry humour and a great love for his young wife. He never remarried and Mum was his life.

Dipping into my old photos again...its got me thinking and there is so much there, so bear with me... My mother is the little girl second from the right. Her first cousin is on her right, but am unaware who the two on the left are. Mum told me she recalled driving to town in an old Sulky, hopefully not this cart...and that they left in the wee small hours and took most of the day to get there...slept overnight, did groceries and supplies and made it back by nighttime the next day...this only hapened once a month. But around the time this was taken Grandfather purchased a car and things were better...Our parents, those of us in their 60,50 and 40's crossed the time from those who lived before electricity and cars...till now. Its an amazing thing to actually have the words in your heart of those who lived that way, and be here blogging this post round the world. Mum would only be 77 if she was still alive and she sure knew how to work the video and all of thet, especially if they were home videos.

Just a bit of a yoke okily dokily...

Under new laws declared by the Bush Administration, Big Pharma will
begin funding public education, but schoolchildren will now be
required to recite an UPDATED Pledge of Allegiance.
For those who may have forgotten, here's the ORIGINAL Pledge:
I pledge allegiance to the flag
of the United States of America
And to the Republic
For which it stands
One nation
Under God
Indivisible
With liberty and justice for all.
The NEW Pledge of Allegiance, authored by drug company researchers,
shall be recited as follows:
THE NEW PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE TO OUR MEDICATION NATION
I pledge allegiance to the drugs
of the United States of America
And to the pharmaceutical
My doctor demands
One medication
Under FDA
Uninsured
With Viagra and Prozac for all.
A spokesperson for ConPfuzer, a leading drug company, explained the
reason for the changes: "Children need Prozac. All we're doing is
reminding them to take their medically-justified medications each
morning as they begin their school day. It's a genuine public service!
"
Big Pharma's hope, said the spokesperson, is to, "Boost mental focus,
improve grades, and provide funding to enhance our nation's schools.
We care about children. After all, they're our future customers."
Children who refuse to cite the new, nationally-recognized Pledge
will be tested for mental disorders by drug-toting psychiatrists who
are standing by, waiting for something to happen that gives their
meaningless lives some purpose.
"Many mentally disturbed children are not receiving treatment,"
grinned one psychiatrist, frantically thumbing through the DSM-IV
manual. "It is our responsibility to treat them all. You're not
against helping children, are you?"
A Bush Administration spokesperson, also present at the announcement,
said, "Since Bin Laden is attacking, we should drug all the children.
You're not a terrorist, are you?"
The new Pledge of Allegiance, we've also learned, has been
copyrighted by ConPfuzer, which will charge schoolchildren their lunch
money as a royalty payment for reciting the Pledge each day. "We must
teach schoolchildren to respect intellectual property at an early age,
" said a ConPfuzer statement. "Otherwise, they might grow up and
commit more serious crimes like sharing music."
It's too late to actually stop the new Pledge from becoming law.
President Bush, citing anti-terrorism powers, explained, "Laws are
whatever I say they are." Although, interestingly, he could not spell
"allegiance" during the signing of the law (although he had no problem
with "of").

Charlie said previously I should write up some of the family stories and I will do that as when I look at these photos these stories cry out to be told and there is no one else who will do it at this stage.

Thanks Charlie...should have done so before.

This little scrap of humanity held with such dignty by her grandfather was the only living descentant from he and his wife (my great grandparents) five children.

Her beginning was tannuous and her own mother died a few years after having her... but she went on to produce a family of five herself, all of whom have had children.

Its odd to look into the faces of those responsible not just for our being alive, but for the manner we were raised, because of how they were, because of how they treated and loved or not their own children.

Our mum was one of the lucky ones as far as her mother's people were concerned..and I was also lucku becaused she passed onto me so much...perhaps the greatest gift she gave me was her humour and tolerance and yes, her eccentricity.

To me these people are still as alive as they once were and important. Because a civilisation which neglects important legacies such as the good people who came before us, the wiser ones, the ones who did have love in their hearts, who loved music and conversation...and especially who loved the child wealth that was given to the families, well a civilisation which forgets too easily these things is a shit civilisation and has no dignity.

And as for those who came before and who abused the children and there were many of these may they rot in their own hell and be totally forgotten. We owe them nothing but revulsion.

Luckily I was bought up with love, and that the wolf was never far from the door, did not lessen the love we all received. 

I have to thank Diane S. for explaining to me what they call the sort of house my greatgrandparents on Mum's mother's side built. As I mentioned to Diane, my mother as a child loved this old house. It began as a slab hut with a hard pressed dirt floor. The gained boards on the floor and rooms were built all over the place with no halls to connect them. Mum who's own mother died when she was 4 said this was the most interesting house as the rooms were all ove the place and the house just grew whenever a new room was needed. Unfortunately tho whole magic place was submerged under Glenbawn dam in 1949 so only exists in my memory now and those of my sisters who bother to have a look at the stories written about it. These amazing people are Margaret Butler and Timothy Flanagan (grt grand parents)

Diane explained that in Texas they call this sort of a house a "Good Year" House; meaning that if it was a good year they would add another room. Its a lovely term to use. 

ANNOUNCEMENT...ANOUNCEMENT!

Australian of the Year has just been announced and for once they got it right. The lady is a Nurse...Toni Hoffman...who risked everything to expose a Dr Patel (? Spelling) who was actually killing people in Bundaburg Hospital (Queensland). The Labour Gov in Queensland and their so called Queensland Health Department ignored his crimes and this lone woman went beyond all of them and exposed the killings and injuries perpetrated and condoned by the system.

Finally an Australian of the Year to be proud of and to humbly thank. A very brave lady with no nursing career left. The moment she opened her mouth that was shot.

Oh Boy! ... did Australia Day turn out to be an interesting excursion down to our Town Green. Off we went in the sweltering heat to look at the market stalls... I do not like summer one little bit. But Don was armed with Aussie flags and Southern Crosses galore and looked very festive and nationalistic...so I bought him three more flags to stick n all the orifices of the wheelchair and he look such a treat.

But before that we had trouble finding a park...DO NOT EVER PARK ILLEGALY IN DISABLED PARKING SPOTS OK,ITS JUST BLOODY SELFISH AND CRUEL! No Parks at all...So we parked streets away and Don got really dizzy with very low BP and ran off the side of the path... I was at that time saying to him..."lets make it to that yellow car up ahead...there's shade there"...and he said "But they are all white to me...everything is white" and off the path he went. Some female strength was called into action and I hauled his electric chair out of its resting place... luckily he was still in it poor bloody bugger. (I wish I could stop myself laughing at semi tragedies...I seem to get a picture of what it must look like from above and I am gone...it cannot be much of a comfort for those too sensitive!)

We paddled about the stalls till I said "its too bloody hot, I feel really sick." so he went his way...his BP had returned to normal so i wasn't being neglectful if you are worried about that...we know what to do and handle things our own way. I found an airconditioned shop which sold Banana smoothies..I stupidly scrimped on breakfast... and made the usual obligatory joke about "Mad Dogs and Englishmen going out in the middday sun." and this strong Yorkshire accent answered me from beyond the airconditioned shop..."Well I am in here...maybe its the Aussies who are mad." Maybe he is bloodywell right.

Later Don sidled up to me and said "she's over there!" I knew exactly who he meant..."You mean D...?" Yeass he said. "Right what are we gonna do?" This is the big fat lazy ugly turd of a nurse who was not a nurse...a fake nurse who sued us so many times in the past five years...and cost us about $13 to $16 thousand dollars in legal fees plus another four in "sundries" lovely word that "sundries".

So there she was surrounded by her scungy friends laughing away in her stolen finery and we wheeled and walked up to her, "Sued any Cripples Lately D...? she said "grow up" well at 55 and 51 we are grown up enough to deal with the likes of that big fat scumbag ...so in front of her mates Don said" You got heaps of money off me...$20,000...plus what you got from Workers Comp". Everyone looked all civilised and embarrassed...as we do in society but we persevered, I said "I've got a great video of you D..." (which I have...of her easily lifiting her big fat griocery bags into a trolley with no pain at all..the cow)..."I think I'll just hang onto it for a little while.." and off we wheeled and walked....

The funny thigs was that Don had had to have all his front teeth out last Monday...and he looks like a real hillbilly and terribly poor when he talks...with no teeth much to see...

We realise how vindictive she can be...bt here's hoping she was exposed before her friends..and if not it sure felt good...

We both said at about the same time we felt all screwed up in the guts...or words to that effect...so there is a lot of anger there for sure and deservedly so

We would have gone stronger but she has sued us so many times it was just not worth handing that fat cow over any more money which we could use.

Oh surely she can see through his raconteurring. And if ths is a winery where is my bloody wine top up...that floozie's so enraptured by the false and cheap promises made by the Don that some of us old diddies do not get a look in...sacre bleu!

No bloody top up for me while the bar maid is so enthralled by Don's charms...I am used to it.

But he is surrounded by three of our family's top lookers so life can't be that bad really. 

Now here is a man who obviously yearns for mummie's cooking...gol darned if he'll get that on this side of hell. 

Potato Pot

Potato Pot.

I knew it was time to stop, sit and dream
out into the cloudy blue
when I carried potatoes in their pot
not to the stove,
but out to the spare bedroom
and stood still wondering why
and where had I really been when I did it.

And I am now sitting - generously filling the chair,
with pen in hand,
or is my body on one of its multi - tasking errands
that never end – never ever end,
till in the dark at night I am myself
for the moments before blessed sleep descends.

The glass; - no mug - of sour wine
in my left hand -
it soothes the jagged edges.
The deep red luscious roses I picked
this morning; the book; the pen; the mobile -
next to me - a still life.
My life.

The Cat – Ah! The cat Archimedes,
purring on a chair near me -
full of grace and timeless peace -
my link to times past and times future.
To Mothers and for Mothers – to Isis.
Soon a bell will ring – needs must – no fault there,
and my stumpy bare feet will pad about endlessly
getting Tea.

After cooking the potatoes.
Serving up. Washing up.
Folding, bending, turning, closing,
feeding, serving, cleaning -
should be doing all with love...
Too tired!
No time outside to wonder at the night sky
Tired – fit to die.

Outside my window the gentle rain falls.
Birds call and chortle.
The clouds roll away and over,
a wondrous thing to see...

All my life is there.

I have put the potatoes on the stove now
and returned to sanity.
No time to snatch for me -
Too dead tired.
Later on...
Accept this.

One day I may be an old lady

One day I may be an old lady
who stands strong in the high hills.

One day I may watch the rising sun
and turn from the same spot
and watch it set without wanting to rush about.

One day I may live self sufficient
and yet sharing myself.

One day I may give love without limit,
in the same way I am receiving it now.

One day I may be able to give truth
without the limit of my ego,
in the same way I am receiving truth now.

I must learn patience now,
for therein I make my future.

I must be aware of the past
for therein I make my present -

And one day I might be.............?

My Other Life

My Other Life.
My other life is calm. My other life has no emergencies; no lurching from crisis to crisis and no feelings of impending doom for my family.

In my other life I arise serenely at about six am (I love mornings) and take my cup of tea out on to the verandah and have it. Then I have another one and maybe another one.

In my other life I can get up at three am and turn on my computer and write solid for hours about anything and everything and for as long as I like.

I can hop on a train or plane and visit my daughters and spend at least a week with them. I can do the rounds of all my sisters and go back home and see the old places and people.

In my other life I can visit my Mother and Father’s graves.

In my other life I can go to the movies and then go shopping and I can spend hours just looking.

I can read book after book uninterrupted and hang as many pictures on the walls and not even measure it all up beforehand.

In my other life I could have the white Kombi Van painted the very same green as our old Kombi. I miss the old van and maybe I could find out where the old van is.

In my other life… what life would that be? To have all that “wished for” time, I think it would be too lonely. There would be no one for me to barge in on, already talking… no one to show funny pictures to, no one to interrupt and to read the good bits out of books to.

Who would make me angry? Who would make me cry? Who would make me laugh? Who would look at me with such honesty and such devastating lack of tact and tell me that I don’t hear as well as I used to?

There is no other life. I am exactly where I am meant to be for what I need to learn and the Divine Plan is working out exactly as it should. Why would I, a fallible human being, imagine that I know and understand more than the force of Creation and Love which created the Universe, from the smallest atom to the largest heavenly body?

Why should I worry when all I have to do is to be who I am; knowing myself and knowing there can never be my other life?

This is my life and it is a good life, the right life and the only life in which I am meant to be.

Mozart Mozart Mozart

Mozart! Mozart! Mozart! Heaven opens up its heart and drops me gently, sublimely in the total stillness between the notes.

No matter what, or when or how or who I am with I feel I am in a sacred place and the commonplace is all tinged about with light.

I know when the stillness between the notes is complete and the harmony of the notes begins again and draws me into its warmth.

If I have to use one word to describe the way Mozart’s music affects me, or what it means to me, I’d use the word “Love” as love is meant to be.

The Faerys Blessing

The Faery’s Blessing.
A lowering winter sky had darkened the world around the house early in the evening, and it brought a feeling of cosiness to the small family inside. Outside it was a raw, windy, wintry evening. Inside the subdued lighting from the small wood fire and the soft lighting from the kitchen burnished the large eyes and round cheeks of two little girls. They were sitting on the pile of pillows and blankets on the floor of the lounge room.

A car’s lights swept through the horizontal slits of the bamboo blinds, which covered the lounge room windows. The car door slammed.

Two small girls wriggled about on the floor, on the blankets. The tiniest one’s little feet kicked rapidly up against the blanket. There was a ‘rap – a – rap’ on the front door and the eldest one, almost four, scrambled out to answer the door, knowing well who is there.

In winter her cheeks always glowed, like those of children living in the colder inland places. This made her large deep blue eyes appear even bluer, and you could spend ages lost in the clearness of that blue. At her age she didn’t really care what she wore, although she loved the colours of things. Her pyjamas were too big and as she padded to the door they had to be hitched up. She opened up the door and with a chuckle she darted back under the blanket, next to her little sister.

The father came in, smelling of petrol and dirt. He was cold and the ends of his work jeans, from the knees down were saturated and had been all day. He dropped to the floor, next to his daughters on the blanket and wrapped an arm over the bundles of little legs and arms and splotches of blue, hazel pink and blonde and flannelette that bumped and wriggled about with happiness.

He swept up the baby and put her in between himself and the eldest one. She had the largest hazel eyes, with flecks of many colours, which seemed to change with the colour she wore, the colour of the sky or by the state of mind, she was in. She had a large high forehead, as yet unhidden by hair.  She had learned a new game. This consisted of sticking her tiny pink-bottomed foot out to be tickled by her sister and then snatching it away at the last moment, if she could.

In the moment the photo was taken, that foot is trapped loosely by her sister and the baby is full of anticipation and excitement of the game. The baby crows and chortles with delight. Upon the eldest girl’s face was the broadest, wildest and happiest smile ever, and she was totally absorbed in the moment.

Sometimes it seemed to the mother that she was an observer to all this life, even while she knew she was at the centre. She took the photos. Often she felt an inside – outside, swinging feeling as if events, as dear as they were to her, were like a series of images, filed away in her mind, so precious were they. And yet she was in amongst all of that life, as it was she who laid the blankets down, who lit the fire, who made the home warm and comfortable, for the little girls and the cold and tired man.

She was aware at the moment she took the photo, that there was a magic field, a faery’s blessing which appeared to bind the small family together, in this moment of fun.  

She knew that in all of us there was the raw pleasure of mindless fun, that made the heart thrill, and made the feet want to stamp out rhythms older than time, that bound the generations and people together. She came to realise that the faery’s blessing laid upon the family, drew them inwards to its centre, but allowed them to roam far away, with clear memories of the eye shine, the warmth and the love.

She also learnt that for each faery’s grace given, one seemed to be taken away, as if a balance had to be struck. But she realised that the gift held fast. This blessing allowed those two little girls to grow towards the holiness of that time, of that closeness and love. It enabled them to carry their endowment around their shoulders like a starry blue cloak. This cloak they could pull about themselves to hide or to seek protection and healing, or they could spread the cloak out on their arms, wide in the air, when they needed to fly, to see, to laugh, to know and understand.

Therese Mackay  11/11/00

The Faery's Bless ing - Photo.
This photo goes with "The Faery's Blessing" above"

Last year the federal Government in Australia gave a bonus to all parents of children living in Australia...it was a good sum... I think it was $1000 per child but may be incorrect...but in that realm...you dhould have heard the outcry from the Opposition Politicians 9who probably wished they'd thought of it first),Social workers and do gooders who no doubt would have preferred that they got a new airconditioned office or yet another useless bloody tier of advocates to help us poor bloody stupids handle our own lives. They were fair frothing at the mouth in their outrage...a lovely sight.

I wrote this as a letter to the editor and had some good feedback from some...


Dear Editor,
Leave the young parents alone. If the Federal Government gives back some of our taxpayers money in whatever way they choose, this time for parents, why are we so quick to find fault?

We live in a culture which condemns the good to collar the bad. If some parents blow the cash they were allowed, then consider this, that the huge bulk of parents will use that money to help the family in whatever way they see fit.

Some will pay their Rego so that they can get to work, some will replace a broken washing machine or fridge, some will get clothes of shoes for the kids. Most will use the money in constructive ways of their own choice as adults.

There are always some who will not, just as some politicians rort their travel allowances, should then all politicians have travel allowances taken from them? The amount given out would be a dinner or two for the fat cats around town. But oh dearie me just listen to those same fat cats bemoan the ability of you and me to deal with such a humongous sum of money.

What is it they really fear? A usurping of the known order where money is dribbled out at such a low rate as to be almost useless except for buying bread and jam perhaps?

It’s a mindset thing our culture of “punishment of all to get the guilty”

We accept the fact that while we know Heroin helps terminally ill Cancer sufferers deal with their pain whilst keeping a clear mind, something that Morphine doesn’t do, Cancer sufferers are denied this God given relief because some people abuse Heroin.

Lets try and let go of the Convict mentality. There are far more good and responsible young parents than there are bad, and this money, which came from my taxes, will give those good parents a boost financially, some of them seldom get.

Lets support the decent young parents and give them a well earned boost from time to time and accept that as with our politicians there will always be a few, a very few who abuse our trust, and get on with making Australia a strong open hearted and generous place for parents to bring up young Australians in.

Sometimes a boost in life is all we need to turn the corner when in times of financial straits and who better to get that boost than those who genuinely want their children to have some sort of a future in our wonderful country.

Better to give it to us than to squander it in some other country, which will turn round and kick us in the teeth as soon as it suits them.
Yours sincerely
T

I did have plenty of paragraphs in the post before this..but it all came out as one long paragraph...does anyone know how I can stop this in future?

Whatever... a little thought train.


We are very lucky to be able to read books, they sure make my life more rich. I would die with out books - well - my mind would . I have learned so much from them, more than I can even begin to imagine. All the books that I have forgotten that I have read are in there somewhere as part of my thoughts. It becomes hard to realise where your own original thoughts begin and end. Or are most of our thoughts bits and pieces of wisdom and knowledge from the world around us other people and books. When we sit still and think about it our mind makes sense of it and some of us write it down. I mean the world has been around for a long time; most of us will be thinking things that have been thought by millions of souls, perhaps even ourselves in past lives...or whatever. but what we have learned will make it easier or possible for us to make sense of what we know and to imagine more.


And another thought train I'm travelling with now is that compared to some who have great willpower, I have never been any good at saving. I am afraid that if there is any spare, I want to share it to buy things for the girls mainly because I just like to do that. As they say, “No pockets in a shroud”...but I should be a bit more careful than I am. I am pretty careful in that I ensure bills get paid, and that they don’t pile up too much. I am very responsible like that, because like most of us from the working class there is a real fear that if something goes wrong it is hard enough to handle without being dogged by a pile of unpaid bills.


I do get afraid of the credit card high Australia seems to be on. One card...fine, within your limits to repay, and no more. Some people get paid and as soon as they do the banks take out a big portion of their wages to pay back all the credit card debts that they owe. The companies who offer credit, as far as I can see do not do it very responsibly, knowing that many will get way in over their heads, and thats where the banks make profit because if you ever get a good look at the corporate structure of Australian banks and big businesses, also world wide, it is clear to see that the four main banks all have board members in common on their boards, and many of these board members are also on the boards of Myers, Coles, Target, AGC, etc etc. They are not stupid and they know exactly what they are doing even when you see them on TV urging the people to be careful, you can be almost certain that there will be an add on within five minutes urging us to spend spend and spend again.


Its like the fashion magazines who do these awful stories of anorexia, or how big is beautiful and then fill up their pages with starving looking girls, and quiz pages on how to keep your man, with no emphasis on true self esteem. “I am nothing without a man” Then when you look at who owns the media which includes Dolly and Cosmo type magazines...there you find the Murdoch’s and Packers and in the U.S. Its the same. Its the same world-wide.


I read in a book once the name of which eludes me right now...it'll come later on, that there are two main ways that the world’s rulers( who are not governments but are in reality just a few elite families who have controlling interests in just about everything) that they use to ensure we act exactly as they want. They use “problem, reaction, solution” or “stepping stone” psychology to ensure we act predictably all the while thinking we are the ones doing the thinking.


“Problem, reaction, solution” goes like this. First you create a problem - it could be a terrorist bomb, or reports of dole bludging being pandemic. You use the media which you own to report very widely this problem, and then ensure that there is much discussion on current affairs and other media about what solution there must be. This causes public reaction. Then you present the people with a solution which they think they created but which was what you wanted all along because you actually created the initial problem in the first place, but of course few people would really believe that our leaders would ever act like this and those who do are called ‘conspiracists’ and that shuts most of us up. Nobody wants to be called a fruitloop.


The other is “Stepping stones”. You (a corporation or government body...much the same anyway) know where you want to lead people, but realise that if you gave them the true picture you would face substantial opposition. So you get to the destination you want by taking little steps and each one is shown to the people in isolation and appears unconnected to all the others. It is like a drip, drip, drip to global centralisation of government and economy (i.e. companies). Most people are now becoming comfortable with photo identification, but in the mid 1980’s there were demonstrations in the streets when they tried to bring in an Australia card with our pictures on it, and a number. Well now they have our ATO number, which never needed to be used to apply for bank accounts or jobs or anything; and now most people have a licence or some form of ID because its easier if you want to use modern shopping; a card to access your own cash also identifies what you are spending your own money on. Years ago it was abhorrent to us all the think that others would know where and how we spent our own cash. It was our right to privacy not to have to have anyone else know this. Unless we were major criminals and then the police had that right... but now every corporation in the world can access all our spending habits every time we use cards for goods and services. This allows them to build up profiles on people. Harmless enough now. Now that we have been softened up to ID photos, how much easier will we be told that Iris scanning or fingerprinting for ID for ATM’s will make our lives. But once again this will happen by stepping stones, till one day it will be compulsory, for our own good of course.


Then again if you say this to people most think its crazy to think that anyone would be this patient and devious. Actually I think it is crazy to think that companies like McDonald’s, Shell Oil, Chase Manhattan Banks and others would not be this devious. Of course they would and are, and if we ever think or are being told, that big companies and governments do anything for the love of it and to benefit the people, then we should be doubly awake. Because thats when they are probably actively setting up shit in place.


I feel much more positive realising this stuff because when I go shopping, I can recognise that the good feeling you get is enjoyable but it is precisely that good feeling that the companies rely on to keep us in debt and unable to be really free. The latest clothes, cars, gear nick nacks and electronics... appreciate them but know in your guts what they are, that they only give a hollow short lived happiness which when over leaves you feeling hungry and unhappy yet again. We all feel it because we have been conditioned over all our lives to feel this way.


Sure I like nothing better than a new interesting book, I spend up at Christmas all of that and then think shit what was that all about...it sure felt good, but why? Realising that we are constantly being manipulated to want and need and to tie this in with being happy or not is half the battle. The trick is to remember it while you are doing it. Thats a hard one. I am still working on it for me. Because when I get down or blue what do I do...buy a dress or book or whatever. and I feel good...why? Because I have been conditioned to feel good when I have something new or interesting and also because I have the money to purchase what I really (for now) want...so there is a faint feeling of the power of money involved...a feeling of richness, of the ability to keep the wolf away from the door just a bit longer. This feeling is in us all. I mean you know you feel a lot better getting around a shopping centre with thirty dollars in your bag, than nothing in your bag. Even if you don’t spend it and only have a cup of coffee, it still feels good. When you don’t have the power of money in your pocket it feels awful. Even if you are full of lunch, well dressed and have a place to sleep, if you do not have that bit of money in your bag or pocket...you feel “hungry” ...why?


Thats what the people who manipulate us understand at the deepest levels possible, more that I will ever realise. They realise that ...” push this button...play out this string....create this drama....show this film....play this music...teach this way at school...etc” and we will all do exactly what they want us to do without coercion, without whips or guns...and we will not realise that it is really a prison a prison of the mind.


Its the reality of that prison that makes us feel like we are lost, without direction, floating, getting older without purpose etc...treated unfairly...all of that. We all feel it...and they use those feelings to by allowing all the swag of cults and “religions” and ideologies that are laid out before us for us to choose...some choice! Some of us hand over to others to sort out our spiritual emptiness...some of us give up and just live...the rest of us have a level of awareness that lets us know that something is really wrong with the world, with how we feel, but we each think it is us that is out of step...when in fact it is our questioning, our longing, our heartfelt seeking that is what is making us truly human. Religion is for the masses who hand over. Some very good people can go to a church and use the stillness to pray and that is a good thing, but I think you realise that none of us fit into any of the moulds that are being laid out for us to “choose” from.

I try when I read a news story about Iraq, or about a new drug being suddenly needed...asking questions like,
“Why is this story being broadcast on every station at the same time”
“Who benefits from this”
“Where did it really come from”
“When was it all put together
“What is it really about”


The “Who, what when where and why” formula is good to use for everything...and if it doesn’t gel, then you will feel something is wrong and it probably is. I don't always succeed nor put in the effort. Sometimes I am too tired or preoccupied or just humanly lazy.


But the most important thing these days is to ask , “what is this story connected to?” - “Have I seen or heard anything previously that seems connected to this ?” - “Who would be able to have the media power to ensure that this story has gotten such wide coverage, world-wide/Australia wide/ at the same time in almost identical format” Thats always a worry.


A bit more of a thought train than what I thought it would be...just some things I have been thinking about from time to time.

Not being the proud ownerof a digital camera...I have to resort to older piccies...this one is a favourite... I am on the left holding my golliwog (yeass you could call it a golliwog in the 1950's) and his name was Jacky Jacky after an aboriginal tracker from early colonial days...for heavens sake I did not even know what a golliwog was.....my sister next to me...on my left who is now mrs Plastic Fantastic (thanks CS for the title) has some sort of a dollie and I can never recall its name..and my big bruiser of a sister next left has her dollie called Henrietta...

The irony being that as years passed on, I was handed on both those pair of oh so glamerous shorts they had on...as wth all the dresses and other...

And I out grew the pair of them, Mrs Plastic now being the blonde (oh sure) and having thin shanks like old diddies do...to be proud of...and she matches all her accessories soooo well...not like me! And I outgrew the big brusier who shrunk as she grew older... but she's nice so thats okay!

Its where we are standing that really shocks me sometimes...how many times did I sit with my Dad on those back steps as the sun sank into the west and strobed our yard with beams of light? I recall just leaning against him and he smelt of tobacco and the dirt of his work which I never found offensive. Actually I liked that smell. The steps are not long gone...the house moved on to somewhere...maybe one day I will find out where... but as a child till I was about 18 it all felt so solid and permanent... and I was not sad when it went or when Mum moved out of it with our two younger sisters, its time was done and it felt like that...

Where has that old floosie of a wife gotten to? Alls I've got are nibbles and herbal tea...its enough to make a bloke fret for the attention he used to get from his mother...now there was a real cook...should've married her but she was already taken...Gol darn it.

Now Thorn doggie jest you git out there and see whats keeping her... I am too much of a bloke to be asked to wait for much linger...go to it Thorn...sic her okily dokily. 

A woman's work is never done it seems and even our old doggie Thorn is giving me a hurry on with the groceries as the lord Mackay is awaiting the arrival of the goodies... Through rain, sun, sleet and snow O deliver the groceries to the rightful king of the castle and lord high of the manor...those Mackays are a bloody stroppy lot considering where ther originally came from...some god forsaken windswept and blown barren waste almost within the artic circle right up the top of Scotland. 

I've just been sent a CD with photos from 2 of my sisters who had christmas together. I'll have to stop myself, but this one just bloody makes me laugh. Taken very early in the day, my much elder sister would have been dismayed...nay extremely shocked to realise that the camera was on her at this stage, pre shower and makeup. Her son Andrew and his partner are with all the confidence of youth oblivious to having back shots of themselves taken at any hour... but the shock on my big sister's face makes life worthwhile for me simple soul that I am.

This is another family cat, which belongs to my eldest (much older) sister. This one like Ebony is also 17 and was christened "Pussy Gardiner" after an old family friend of our mother's. Pussy Gardiner was confined to a cage over the Christmas period as she and Ebony do not see eye to eye, and at their age they need all the five senses that they have left.

My sister got dressed down and kicked off a teenage website once because of Pussy Gardiner. Our niece had put a lot of her artwork on the site which was aimed at 15's to about 30. So we all had a look and put our comments on. (She's good). But my silly sister signed off, Aunty Veronica and Pussy Gardiner. Well all the alarm bells in the world must have been triggered and Veronica was soundly told that she should be ashamed of herself , that this was for young people and that she had now been blocked from any further comments.

We all had a great laugh at this ...naughty naughty Aunty Veronica. She thought it was just another name for a cat... as you would do. 

The cat with few lives left. This is my younger sister's cat, Ebony. Ebony used to be a shiny, sleek elegant Queen of Cats, but as her prowress fades with age so does her agility.

The latest "accident" this 17yr old has had is to think she could outrun a neighbourhood car, but she forgot about her tail...the remains of which had to be surgically amputated.

Food's not so great either as she should be re christened "Snagletooth" due to their being about one tooth left in her mouth, but she gets plenty of milk...a bit like what will happen to all of us I guess... Milk and mush.

Poor old Ebony, a wreck of her former sophistication. Battered, bruised, tarn tail from body, reduced to milk but still terrorising the neighberhood. 

Its about Oil...Oil and the Power and wealth it brings to the fre rich protected sons of bitches.

Have a look at Micheal Moore's site re troops...ie is children to those of us over 35, killed for bloody well nothing in Iraq and elsewhere. http://www.militarycity.com/valor/honor.html

Then run that out at the civilians ie mothers old people, children and babies made ill dreadfully ill for generations with the depleted uranium which is now snowed all ove iraq and surrounds and consider did the ancient Romans ever perpetrate anything this horrendous?

I do no think so.

Evil stalks the world and its not because of a God or the Devil, its because of the ordinariness in the ruins of the hearts of those who decide.

This makes me laugh... but I admit to being a bit perverse.
Our eldest daughter gave her two youngest cousins a pretty pink bag each and some real lipsticks for Christmas... This little one - Tessa...surely named after me... but my sister's husband swears not...(i am not his favourite person) used up one while lipstick in the space of an afternoon...apart from her face, she spread it on her parents... furniture etc etc...and she looks so dedicated.... she is only 3...where does it come from? These people live right down near Milford Sound in New Zealand so are very far away from society's crap... sometimes I think it is has to be inborn... They're coming to visit us in April then on to two other sisters... I may just give her a little purse whith about half a dozen lipsticks to take with her into the pristine vaults of their respective homes....

Oh! Thorn...don't look so forlorn...
now Christmas is gorn.

Shrug off your tinsel collar Thorn.

Dinner is still served with love, and many hands reach to pat you, from above...oh Thorn.

The young gals may be long gorn, Thorn, they who fluttered round you like rainbow butterflies, and coated your ears with melodious cries...

Oh handsome Thorn, don't look so sad. The old boiler who pats you for now is not so bad, if you
squint in candlelight. And Candlelight is so cheap just like she is too.

They'll be back to pat you, to caress you to throw you little titbits of such a splendorous variety to make you gasp...OH Thorn...don't look so forlorn. 

Now this is an even older photo. I've been scanning in the old family photos and I like this one of my maternal grandmother Vera, with yet another smiley doggie who is obviously very comfortable with her. She died when Mum was only four, not too long after this shot was taken... I know she rode the farm horses, as well as she played Chopin, and grew up in a house with a dirt floor... Im know she was gently spoken and kind. I know she worked hard in the isolation of the farm 40 miles from town.I think the likes of her have more class in their little fingers than those who society lauds and admires. Just because I didn't get to meet her or know her, doesn't mean anything. She exists in me, and mine still even though she died so very ong ago.

"Nothing good is ever lost". 

I Know this isn't a clear photo. I rescued it from a pile of stuff I found when sorting through Mum's stuff. I have to chuckle at this one. Its of a very "dynamic" moment. Don 23 and I 19 (circa 1974) had just arrived up at Mum's place in country New South Wales and announced to her that we were having a baby, but in no hurry to be married. Poor bloody Catholic Mum. How blase are we when we are young and how blind to the rights and sensibilities of those we really love.?

She was on a widow's pension at that time and had still two little kids to bring up. She'd just cooked us Tea and we'd just finished telling he with all the supreme confidence and stupidity of youth that "everything is fine Mum".

She grew to love Don especially out of all the sons in law she would have (5), but the look accross my head, and Don very deliberately tucking into the last morsel on the plate says it all.

As for me, smiling always semed to fix everything. It was alright, and we stuck together,
but she was right to worry... we had some "times".

Dad always used to say that when we bought our boyfriends home, he would take them down the back and if they couldn't chop wood for the fire, he'd let us know they weren't okay. Good standards dad. He didn't live to meet any of them.

Mum always said, "You can tell if someone is worthwhile by how they treat their own mother." which is fine, depending if the mother is a nurturer or destroyer.

I wonder what our kids will say we said by way of help or advice. Mine just crack up if I start but they are a bit older than I was in this picture.