 Talking about the plastic bag problem, weren’t we?
Here’s one idea: Stop buying (&selling!) those small plastic bags of kids’ snacks. For heaven’s sake — surely it’s possible for parents, carers, or kids themselves, to put a banana or a couple of crackers & cheese or even a home baked cookie in a school lunch box? (Home-baked cookie? What’s that?) The amount of $$$ that manufacturers & supermarkets must be making from selling this stuff must be immense. (as for the $$$ spent by families!) But the main problem as I see it, is the amount of plastic around this (mostly) rubbish food. As an illustration, yesterday I walked along a path adjoining a fence of the local primary school and picked up what is shown in the accompanying photo. I could have gathered more. The path that forms that part of my walk is no more than 500 metres. Over the (wire) school fence I could see even more of the same junk congregating along the fence line, where little piles of similar dropped plastic were fluttering along, aided by a breeze. A small creek is near the path where I walked. This creek turns into a concrete drain for a while to enable it to flow under a main road not far away. Water from this creek/drain flows towards the sea, where it ultimately dumps not only water, but the remnants of all this discarded stuff. I see at least two problems: One is the pollution of waterways and sea with plastic — and the other is pollution of land fill, wherever rubbish is dumped. Rubbish that is comprised of plastic in all its guises. We can try to collect plastic bags to hopefully recycle. (That’s not working, apparently). We can limit bag distribution by retailers, but while nearly every little and big thing we buy comes encased in plastic, we are defeated, no matter what we do. BUT please look at the photo and imagine almost every kid in every school in every state having a couple of these snacks in their lunch box. Some empty packs will find their way to the rubbish bin, others will accidentally flutter off to ‘nowhere land’ and end up in the sea. The primary school near my home has over a thousand pupils. I wonder how many of them have a snack in a plastic bag each day. Some Maths . . .a thousand kids, 200 school days per year, just one snack per kid each day . . . try 200,000 small plastic bags a year . . .every year . . . aarrgghh! (and that’s not including the cling wrap around the sandwiches & other food . . . !) Do we give up?
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 A distressed magpie lark arrived on our back veranda in March of this year (’22). She fluttered around for a while, stopping every so often to peck furiously at her right foot. Alarmingly, we saw that her foot was bound tightly in a tangle of fine nylon blue thread. The toes on that foot were useless for standing or perching.
She flew up close to us and we guessed she was looking for help. But try as we did, time and time again, to catch her — sometimes attempting to throw a soft towel over her — she would not allow herself to be captured. To lure her closer, we presented some bird seed (Wild Bird Mix), which she ate quickly, although always wary of our too-close approach. Days went by and Birdie (as I had started to call her) spent a lot of time on our veranda, still pecking vainly at the thread around the, by now, useless foot. It was a mystery as to how her foot had become so entangled in such a way. She started anticipating the small pile of seeds we offered each day and would often be waiting at the glass back door when we came out at breakfast time. As Birdie picked and picked at her mangled right foot, little by little — over months — some of the crippling thread came off. But it was too late. By now, one toe had withered and shrunk, the others bent and useless. We became used to Birdie’s company when we sat out on the veranda. Through all seasons she would join us, perched one-legged on the back of a chair. We continued to leave small amounts of seed and, if we ever left any crumbs on the table after a meal, she would fly in and finish them off, always waiting for us to leave first. She eventually started adjusting to her crippled foot and occasionally hopped using both feet, albeit with her right one a backwards facing stump. For eight months or so we have had Birdie as our veranda companion and lately, guess what – she has brought along a boyfriend! They are obviously a pair, and he often shares the seed we put out — sometimes being over-bossy and pushing Birdie out of the way, so that he can eat first. (!). Now we are waiting to see if Birdie and her mate have a secret nest somewhere nearby and wonder if any offspring might make our back veranda a visiting place. I feel sure that our Birdie story gives yet another indication of intelligence present in other creatures.  “The long eye lashes of a child” *. . .
Words about a dying child. A big child, A brown child, A boy child. . . A dying child. Should we have told a child where ‘the wrong place’ might be? Should we have told a child when ‘the wrong time’ would be? How could he know the murderous intent, the hatred and the spite of the white man in the car, just looking for a black kid -- with weapons at the ready. Was, ‘there he is’ Or, ‘there’s one’ the call of mindless hate? What motivates the dull minds of that white man and his mates? Did they say, ‘Let’s get him?’ Did they mean to kill and maim, as they came towards the boy? “With eye lashes of a child”. *Quote, from Editorial, The Saturday Paper, 29.10.2022, “DON’T LOOK AWAY’  It’s about 32 years ago and we are travelling through Queensland, on a holiday from Victoria.
At a picnic spot by the Mary River at Maryborough, we are sitting in the car drinking coffee, because it’s raining. As we gaze around at the scenery, an ibis walks along the grass, near our car. It is an unusual sight, and we guess that maybe the bird is searching for food dropped by picnickers. “What a strange sight,” we laugh, “A bit like the seagulls at Melbourne bay-side beaches.” We watch the lone ibis and wonder what has led it to become a scavenger. _____________________________________________________________________ In 2022 ibis are now commonly referred to as ‘bin chickens’ and seen in many—if not most—areas in Australia. They are no longer only visible in rural settings, by waterways. They are in parks, gardens, and roadsides, attracted by humans and the bits and pieces of garbage food left behind. Ibis are no strangers to kids of today, but I don’t think I had even seen one before I was an adult. (Yes, I’m that old). Now, it’s not uncommon for me to step out of my home and see an ibis on the front lawn. What happened? P.S. Ibis in the picture was at outdoor dining area at QPAC, Brisbane.  Oh, dear…so much going on since Queen Elizabeth died.
A weird sort of reverse snobbery appeared on some social media, with people boasting, “well I am not going to watch even a minute of the funeral” sort of comment. That’s okay, no one HAD to watch. A shame really as it was an historical occasion, never to be seen again. Whether or not you ‘fancy’ the royal family, the pageantry on show, after a 70-year reign by a British monarch, was amazing. The sight of a gun carriage, adorned coffin atop, pulled by 142 young Royal Navy sailors had to be seen to be believed. The funeral service in Westminster Abbey was almost low-key, with hymns and bible readings familiar to any ‘ordinary’ folk who have ever visited a mainstream church service in the past couple of decades. (Apart, of course from the choral anthems, which soared into the cathedral rafters!) The procession that followed was more than two times longer than the service and was perhaps the more spectacular. Afterwards came complaints concerning the cost of such a day. A cost that many Brits thought was excessive and wasteful, considering the state of the country’s finances. Agreeing with this, I thought that the royal family could have dipped into their billions and paid for the whole thing – even if only to help their image. The week-long ‘mourning’ stirred up many an anti-monarchy protest, exacerbated here, in Australia, by the ‘day of mourning’ holiday on Thursday. Protests emanating from First Nations people are understandable and may open up a more general appreciation of the coming referendum to enshrine an Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice in the Australian Constitution. So that’s a plus, I suppose. Although I watched and enjoyed the Queen’s funeral out of interest and a sort of respect for ‘our’ very old and seemingly dedicated monarch, I do have some misgivings about the monarchy. Having lived through the 1975 debacle, where an Australian PM was sacked, I hold extreme negative feelings towards actions taken by the Queen and Prince (now King) Charles, with their unnecessary involvement with the execrable John Kerr. A blot on our history, as seen in the recently exposed ‘Palace Letters’. The other very negative view of the monarchy is the appalling deception and subsequent treatment of the young Diana Spencer. What a cruel act used to secure an ‘appropriate’ partner for a philandering and selfish future king. And now, here we are: the Queen has gone and we are left with a royal family of fractured and, at times, quite nasty (witness treatment of Meghan Markle) group of people who own a £16.5 billion portfolio of real estate. Do we really need them?  It has been said that “Nature offers one of the most reliable boosts to our mental and physical wellbeing.” For 30 years I lived in country Victoria where, after taking a short (200 m) walk, I was in the midst of a red gum forest. I walked in the forest almost every day and it gave me a sense of peace. Earlier in my life, there were two years when an old farmhouse on the edge of a river was my home. At the time I had a stressful teaching position and, on returning from a day at school, I would often stroll down to the river, slowly breathe in the air and look at what nature provided. Once back at the house, I would feel rejuvenated and many of the day’s troubles would have been mentally solved or simply melted away. There is a word: ‘Biophilia’, which Harvard naturalist Dr. Edward O. Wilson sees as “humanity's innate tendency to focus on life and lifelike processes, and to be drawn toward nature”. I tend to agree. We NEED nature and being immersed in nature brings rewards. There is much research on subjects about benefits of spending time with nature—or surrounding yourself within a nature-based experience. “A growing body of research points to the beneficial effects that exposure to the natural world has on health, reducing stress and promoting healing” (from Yale School of the Environment, 2020). During my lifetime—whenever and wherever—I have tried to often be “immersed in nature” and I truly believe in the benefits to health and ‘well-being’…both mentally and physically. The realisation that there are so very many people—especially kids—who are unable to have this experience is a sobering thought. I wonder how many city kids have never been in a forest. How many people have never experienced walking along a beach? How many city dwellers have never seen an eagle in flight? I am quite familiar with the sight of wedge tailed eagles, having lived in Gippsland for many years. But, about 20 years ago, when travelling between Bowen and Townsville, the sight of numerous eagles and hawks soaring in a glorious blue sky was amazing. These magnificent birds, possibly scanning newly harvested sugar cane fields, looking for tasty morsels of small edible creatures provided a sense of awe. Another way of ‘drawing towards nature’, another different ‘Biophilia’ experience, with accompanying benefits. Recent articles have appeared about an experience called “Forest bathing”, which is a Japanese practice inducing relaxation. It’s a simple method of being calm and quiet amongst the trees. (There is no bath involved!). Participants claim that by observing and being in nature, especially within forest surroundings—while breathing deeply— can help de-stress and boost health and well-being in a natural way. Too much to ask, but…all cities should endeavour to make available exposure to trees, gardens and native wild birds at least. There is a current trend to use a form of biophilia in office buildings and homes to help create that elusive notion of “well-being”. It seems mainly to do with including indoor plants. I wonder if it works. Look up “biophilia” and “forest bathing” and give it a try!  Of all the billionaires in Australia I am choosing Gina Rinehart — to pretend to have access to her money.
The latest estimation of Gina’s wealth accumulation (I hesitate to use the term ‘worth’) is around $29.6 (U.S.) billion. Now, a BILLION of anything is almost impossible to comprehend, but, if Gina wished to spend all her $$billions on herself, some have estimated it would take her about a hundred lifetimes to do so. So, I have devised a few ways to help her spend: Just pondering about a couple of items in the News lately. Firstly, the shocking revelations about the mistreatment of young people in youth detention facilities; the harm dished out — physical and mental — resulting in them being traumatised and, ultimately, worse offenders. Here’s what I would do: Instead of concrete and steel cells, armed guards and 23 hour a day lock-up, I would spend squillions on making accommodation for young offenders into comfortable housing; a bedroom, with ensuite for each kid. Make sure the bed is comfortable, with the occupier’s choice of quilt or blankets. Provide top quality everything, including toiletries. Crazy? Maybe, but worth a try. And, let’s face it—anything is better than what is. Until (hopefully) the resident is able and willing to look after his own room, have it cleaned and tidied professionally daily. Fresh sheets and towels a must. Then, create daytime to evening activities to interest and involve the youngsters. Make physical activities fun. Have woodwork, mechanics, creative art and craft of all sorts available. NO locking up. (Apart from the periphery fence, of course). Create meals that are tasty and nourishing. Show by example how to eat good meals. No lecturing. Sure, there will be miscreants who will muck up and wreck things but remember that these kids mostly had horrific starts to their lives. Ensure superabundant helpful, compassionate and caring staff are present 24 hours of the day. Of course, all of this will need absolute buckets of money to do…but, guess what? This GR spend will hardly make a dent. It may use up one of the billions, but, hey? That’s okay. Secondly, my next big spend of GR money would be to set up a car manufacturing plant (maybe in South Australia?) to produce electric vehicles. Imagine an Australian EV. How good that would be. And the best part is that, after ten or twenty years, this manufacturing company could be making a handy profit. Win, win. This is just me, using GR money. There are always more billions to be fantasised about. Try some of real estate dealer Harry Triguboff’s. (Currently ‘worth’ $21.5 U.S. billion). Or the lesser James Packer at only $3.8B, or Clive palmer’s $2B. Of course, don’t forget Andrew Forrest, at $17.8B - even as he makes out to be a sweet and generous philanthropist. Mike Cannon-Brookes has piles of billions – it’s a movable feast as he actually does occasionally use some $$$ for good. BUT, oh, what we, the impoverished, could do with these billions! Next fantasy:
 When I was a small child and my English great-grandmother died, my grandfather (her son, here in Australia) needed to talk with his English family. It was an onerous task. He had to book a phone call to UK, wait some hours to be notified that a connection was possible and finally, as his Australian family sat around, he spoke, long distance—using a heavy, black Bakelite phone—to England.
It was not until 1963 that, what were called ‘trunk calls’, made it easier to speak by telephone to family or friends overseas; a sometime tricky thing to undertake—and the sound wasn’t great. (I read that, “In the UK and the Commonwealth countries, a trunk call was the term for long-distance calling which traversed one or more trunk lines and involved more than one telephone exchange”, but still don’t know what the word ‘trunk’ implies in this context). As time went by people accepted that phoning overseas was achievable, despite the cost. At around 1976 to 1978, Australian STD (subscriber trunk dialling) was introduced. STD let telephone users make national and international calls without going through an operator. Such progress! ___________________________________________________________________ Now, in 2022, once or twice a week, my son calls from the UK where he lives. My iPad plays a little jingle, I pick it up and ‘swipe’ the green button and there is my son, my daughter-in-law and my granddaughter. Not only within clear hearing range but live, in full ‘technicolour’. My granddaughter tells us about her latest school successes, and perhaps shows us something she has made. As we chat, my son takes his device outside to show us the latest progress in their UK back garden. Through this ‘facetime’ call we are able to be with family with ease. This is telecommunication in the 21st century. It is almost scary to imagine what the future in communication might eventually be like.  This year, 2022, marks 80 years since Japanese bombing raids began on Darwin in WW2. The air attack on Darwin continued for nearly two years; the city was bombed 64 times. Australian troops, numbering approximately 250,000 were stationed in the Northern Territory at some stage during those war years. Lives were lost; young men were permanently scarred. History recalls that the government of the day fudged the numbers of casualties so that people wouldn’t 'be alarmed'. But conservative estimates of war deaths in NT at the time, puts the servicemen tally at 432 and the number of civilian deaths at 63. That’s almost 500 people. (At least). What was that all about? To end that conflict, even worse had to occur, as the US obliterating of Nagasaki and Hiroshima were to prove. So, what was all that about? Today, Japan is considered one of Australia’s Best Friends. And yet, for a decade or so after WW2, Australians refused to buy anything stamped “MADE IN JAPAN”. Years later, when Japan proved its skills in manufacturing electronic goods and cars, all was ‘forgiven’ and the horror of war time was put in the past. So, what did that war achieve? Will we ever learn that all wars are futile? What is the point, right now, of Putin bombing Ukraine into rubble – killing soldiers and civilians by the hundreds and wrecking any civilisation in his path? Why do humans keep making wars? Here are some interesting facts: The Australian Defence force costs over $48 BILLION p.a., to maintain. ALSO, did you know? Australia is one of the top ten weapons exporting countries in the world, selling in excess of $5 BILLION worth of arms and equipment annually. Imagine, for a minute, if all the money spent on arms and military might was spent, instead, on mitigating the (equally) deadly effect of Climate Change. Imagine if all the military personnel from every nation rallied to save the planet, instead of bombing it. Eighty years ago, Japan was dropping bombs on Australia. Today Japan is one of Australia’s Best Friends. Please tell me WHY we keep having wars.  Let’s talk about COVID. (Moan, not again!)
And, let’s talk about masks. (oh, nooo!) Last night, on ABC tv, ‘The Drum’, CSIRO scientist, Lisa Gershwin, smilingly, yet forcefully, asserted that “This microbe wants to take us down”. (Yikes!) It is obvious to most people that vaccinations and mask wearing are now necessary to protect us from the dreaded COVID virus. There has been a lot of arguing over the need for mask wearing to be mandated. Politicians are being criticised for not being firm on this matter. I do have a little sympathy for the politicians, and maybe understand a reason for their reluctance to mandate—other than the idea that it is businesses who do not want the populace kept away from commerce. Think about it: IF mask wearing is mandated, it will be well-nigh impossible to police the mandate and you can ‘bet your bottom dollar’ that, as soon as people start being told they MUST don a mask, there will be protests. Once again, the morons in our midst will make their banners, with “my body, my choice”, “masks = Govt control” and so on, and take to the city streets, spreading the virus between them. I am determined not to subject myself to this latest COVID virus strain of BA.4 and BA.5. I wear a face mask whenever I am out and about, such as a visit to a supermarket. Although I avoid gatherings of most sorts, I sometimes attend a meeting of a writers’ group, where there is a small number of attendees. Strangely, at the previous two meetings, I have been one of only two members wearing a mask. This I cannot understand. But, maybe folk are waiting to be TOLD. After recommending that vaccinations and mask-wearing are essential tools for keeping us safe, the smiling scientist, Lisa Gershwin, added the much-quoted and true advice, “If you dislike wearing a mask, you’re really gonna HATE a ventilator!” Think about it!  I’m old enough to have marched in a (Melbourne) Moratorium against the Vietnam War, in 1970.
Some years later, although I did not travel to Tasmania, I did what I could to support those protesting against the damming of the Franklin River. The Vietnam protests, against an unwinnable war—and a huge revolt against conscription— eventually led to Australian troops being withdrawn and welcomed in a new PM in Gough Whitlam. Success of the Franklin River protests in 1982—to save a wilderness area—coincided with the arrival of a new PM, in Bob Hawke. In the meantime, I added my (small) voice to a successful protest against sand mining and logging on Fraser Island; an activity that ultimately ceased in 1976. I have seen and supported many a protest. Protests for important and crucial matters. Recent protests have been different. I supported (from afar) the women’s “March for Justice” in 2020, which was magnificent but gained little political response, apart from participants being told they were lucky not to be met with bullets (paraphrasing here). The school kids’ 2022 protest “Strike for Climate” was also a magnificent happening, but the only political comment gained seemed to be “they should have been in school”. A little later, the (then) Fed minister for the environment, Sussan Ley, obtained a court ruling saying that she does “not have a duty of care to protect young people from climate change when assessing fossil fuel projects”. (!!) And, so, protests continue…BUT…they have been of more dubious nature and magnitude over the past two years. On our TV screens we witnessed marching and yelling protests that gained far-too-much attention. These protests were different and not aimed at bettering our country or bettering our environment. Some huge protests erupted, peopled by those who think it is a terrible impingement on their rights to ask them to wear a face mask during a deadly pandemic. Added to these pathetic selfish protests have been the mindless mobs screaming objection to receiving a vaccination; an injection to prevent serious illness! Insistent that they will experience devastating (many weird and imagined) consequences from a vaccination, they ignore any devastating consequences of contracting the virus. WTF? Totally pathetic! To quote Bob Dylan: “A hero is someone who understands the responsibility that comes with his freedom.”  Animal behaviour experts observed that a particular monkey was hoarding bananas—far more than it could ever eat—and decided that such aberrant behaviour was something worth studying. Scientists needed to decipher the psychology that led to this action. Basically, that monkey was put in “the naughty corner” while experts tried to discover what was causing such ‘unreasonable’, even for a monkey, behaviour.
Meanwhile, humans hoarding more money that they could ever use are praised and lauded. The disparity between these two observations is difficult to understand. In 2012, Australian politician, author, lawyer and former professor of economics, Dr Andrew Leigh wrote about a wealth “ladder”. “Imagine a ladder, in which each rung represents a million dollars of wealth. Imagine the Australian population spread out along this ladder, with their distance from the ground reflecting their household wealth. On this ladder, half of all households are closer to the ground than they are to the first rung. The typical Australian household is halfway to the first rung. Someone in the top 10 percent is at least 1½ rungs up. A household in the top 1 percent is at least 5 rungs up. Gina Rinehart is 5½ kilometres off the ground” *. (* in 2022, 10 years later, it is estimated to be more like 10 kms from the ground). Now, that’s a great illustration of inequality in Australia. It would be naïve to think that we might ever be totally rid of inequality —and perhaps that is as it should be—but must life and circumstances be so dramatically unequal? I mean, is it right and ethical that some people ‘earn’ (and I use that term loosely) as much in a week as someone else takes more than a year to accumulate? A 2017 quote from ‘The New Internationalist’ magazine: “The evidence is mounting that greater economic equality benefits all people in all societies, whether you are rich, poor or in-between. Once this is widely understood, politicians and policymakers will be forced to take note…” (and Later..) “The equality effect can appear magical. In more equal countries, human beings are generally happier and healthier; there is less crime, more creativity, more productivity, and – overall – higher real educational attainment. The evidence for the benefits of living more economically equitable lives is now so overwhelming …….” Of course, I am only talking of inequality here as a money ‘thing’. There are many more ways of being inequal, especially regarding opportunity, but it’s the $$$ inequality that affects us so much. In yesterday’s newspaper, (24/5/22) the wise and talented Thomas Keneally mentions the great unfortunate truth that, “Trickle down has always gushed up”. So true! I will forever rant on about inequality and its sad consequences. Oh, that equality of sorts was attainable here in Australia! It would be nice, wouldn’t it? Maybe those monkeys who didn’t hoard bananas could teach us something? that it will soon start to change politics and societies all over the world. 2013 Book: Battlers & Billionaires: The Story of Inequality in Australia  Perhaps attitudes haven’t changed.
Many decades ago, my parents were told by an Anglican priest that they had probably been ‘chosen by God’ to be the special people to have a disabled child; a child to be used (by God, presumably) to help others show their kindness and charity. That child is no longer with us, but he was my brother for 63 years. Sure, it was sometimes hard (bloody hard!) for us to cope with a family member with Cerebral Palsy and other disabilities. But our family was resilient. Our family was full of love and understanding —not only for my brother, but for anyone and everyone. Were we blessed? Were we not blessed? Who knows what ‘blessed’ means? When I was involved as a teacher in ‘Special Ed’ for many years, I spent my days with children of many differing abilities —and their parents and families. Was I blessed then - or not blessed? Although I do not truly understand the meaning of ‘blessed’, I was appalled by the words of our Prime Minister, who claimed to ‘be blessed’ to not have a disabled child. Well, Mr Prime Minister, I know who seems more ‘blessed’ to me — and that is the crowd of people who have had the joys and heartaches of being involved in the lives of people who may be different from the ones you admire. I, and those who have had the privilege to be close to such a variety of ‘disabled’ people, and the disabled people themselves, are the ones who have empathy, who have resilience, who have understanding and a real appreciation of what it’s like to be truly alive and aware. You’d be a better man, Mr Prime Minister, if you ever emerged from your pristine, self-worshipping space.  In all the horror of this Russian war on Ukraine, I keep remembering how a Russian (now Australian) lady told me some years ago about Putin undergoing regular cosmetic surgery – face lifts, in other words. The thought if it greatly annoyed and disturbed her. She listed it among other negative aspects of the Russian leader’s approach to life.
He is obviously a narcissist. Which brings me to the awful topic of WHY? WHY? WHY? and WHAT FOR? Why? and what for? has this man decided it is his right to take control of another country and, in so doing, have his (‘his’!) soldiers kill (murder, really) thousands of innocent people? I cannot begin to fathom the abomination of what Putin is doing. As the murders and the wreckage continues, Putin seemingly remains untouchable. At the (reported) age of 69, Putin has lately done much to unsettle the world order and produce global instability — and yet he is a man who is so vain and insecure that he needs to embrace cosmetic surgery in an attempt to look younger. Dear Mr Putin, You may have had your face lifted and there are no wrinkles on your brow, but I have glimpsed your hands (on tv) and they look like the hands of an old man. All the other old man’s hands I know belong to men full of empathy and love of – and for - their fellow man. Why are you so different? And, why are you obsessed with domination? You have your Russia, you have your mistress installed in a safe country, you have your $700 million yacht waiting for you, berthed in an Italian harbour and you have your smooth and wrinkle-free forehead. You “have it all” as they say. You face is unblemished. How about your soul?  I overheard a comment the other day about all the ‘deprivation’ that is currently in our lives. I guess they were referring to the restrictions placed on us (for our own good, by the way) due to the Covid-19 virus.
The amount of people protesting about wanting “FREEDOM” is astounding, even though it’s not completely clear what they need freedom from – or for. I guess we’ve all been upset at times about Covid restrictions. BUT…As much as the past two years have been tedious and worrying, we haven’t been without too much. Not too much ‘deprivation’. Deprivation – for our own good, as I keep saying – is altogether not too bad. Consider this: (Back when Australia’s population was only about 7 million -– in the time of WW ll) “Rationing regulations for food and clothing were gazetted (14 May 1942). Rationing was introduced to manage shortages and control civilian consumption. It aimed to curb inflation, reduce total consumer spending, and limit impending shortages of essential goods.” (ref: published by the Australian War Memorial) Now that’s more akin to ‘deprivation’. “Rationing was enforced by the use of coupons and was limited to clothing, tea, sugar, butter, and meat. From time to time, eggs and milk were also rationed under a system of priority for vulnerable groups during periods of shortage.” (Reminder: some of us have recently been worried about enough toilet paper). Later. How about this for deprivation: “By the 1950s most Indigenous Australians had lost their lands and lived in poverty on the fringes of non-Indigenous society. Many were not eligible for the dole or other state or federal benefits which non-Indigenous people received. State laws controlled where many Indigenous people could live, where they could or couldn’t move and whom they could marry. Many Indigenous Australians were not legal guardians of their own children and were not permitted to manage their own earnings. (ref: National Museum Aus) Deprivation? By the 1960s, with population a little over 10 million, we forgot deprivation for a while… With 1960s television now the main family entertainment, relaxing was good. But, hang on, in 1965, all boys (yes, they were only boys, even though officials called them ‘males’ or ‘young men’) who turned 20 between Jan 1 and June 30, had to register for National Service. Then, in that same year, troops were sent off to Vietnam. Try to imagine what would be said about that nowadays! Later again: To 1970s, 80s and beyond, if you ask older people, you’ll hear lots of tales of (what could now be referred to as) deprivation or hardship, including high interest rates, war protests, land rights, Aboriginal rights, overflowing school class sizes, unemployment and more… Yes, the restrictions around Covid-19 have been a trial at times, with two years of deprivation. But, here, in February 2022, we have a little easing of restrictions. We’re not back to normal, yet, but, as someone said last week, “Privation is (now) a late Amazon delivery”. Food for thought? Privation indeed! A while ago I decided not to write on any subject matter to do with politics. BUT I am so appalled at the government’s attitude towards - and dealing (or not dealing) with - the current crisis in aged care that I just had to add my voice.
The aged care sector has been sadly neglected for many years and has been in strife throughout the three years of Covid19. Since the Omicron virus arrived in Australia in November, nearly 600 aged care residents have died with it - or from it. This latest ‘version’ of the pandemic is spreading like wildfire throughout aged care accommodation and yet dozens of these places are still waiting for the necessary booster shots for residents and staff. Wasn’t the need for these vaccinations foreseen and wasn’t the administration of these jabs promised some time ago? Staff – what’s left of them – are exhausted after working horrendous hours trying to care for those in their ‘care’. There are THOUSANDS of vulnerable residents in lockdown. They feel as though they are in prison as rules of isolation and segregation are enforced (to little effect, it seems). Meanwhile we hear how ‘our’ Aged Care minister has spent three days at the cricket, ignoring the need to attend the Senate hearing dealing with aged care. (He has been absent from more meetings on the subject than those he has attended). And now, as the crisis begins to make headlines, the government announces it will form a “Task Force” to study the issues - and collect data concerning deaths. (You could not make this up – as the saying goes!). A TASK FORCE. to COLLECT DATA! In 2018 a Royal Commission into Aged Care was set up. The resulting report was issued in March of 2021, with the main distressing finding being headed “Neglect”. And what has been done since? Bugger all! Sure, no one knew the extent of the pandemic – although careful observation of what was happening overseas should have given Australia a ‘heads up’ on what was to be expected. But little notice was taken of the Royal Commission’s reports. All hopeless, all distressing, all upsetting, all frustrating and all simply horrifying. One of my main current concerns is this awful attitude of politicians – and sometimes the general population – of mentioning the fact that some of these poor, precious people who have died, were “already palliative” – indicating that they ‘were going to die anyway’. How disgusting. How disrespectful and how heartless. AND…if these people were ‘going to die anyway’, WHY were they denied the chance to have a loved one by their side as they died? WHY, if their son, daughter, brother, sister, spouse, whoever, was masked up and wanted to be present, WHY did these elderly and vulnerable people have to die ALONE? Am I missing something? Aged Care residents are being neglected at a far worse rate than stated in the original report. Many are alone, uncared for, unbathed, untreated, unfed (in some cases) and left to die alone – while the virus spreads seemingly unrestricted. I feel helpless and frustrated. But most of all I feel disgusted with the people who are supposed to be supportive, both in a $$$ way and in a decent way, of their citizens. By the way…75% of aged care providers are assessed as ‘profitable’. The aged care sector generates about $26 BILLION a year in revenue, with providers making over $2 billion in profits. 35% of 'homes' are run by ‘for profit’ companies. Only about 9% are government run aged care ‘homes’. In many cases, residents themselves contribute billions of $$$ for their accommodation. The $$ from “refundable accommodation deposits” contributed by each resident, ranging from hundreds of thousands $$ to millions $$, are used by providers. It’s a tricky deal to understand. Not sure how ethical it is.  SPORT, part 2…
In my last blog post, I wrote about various activities known as SPORT — initiated, I suspect, by the furore surrounding renowned sportsman antivaxxer (later renamed by some as “NoVax”). Continuing my thoughts on the definition of sport and its different modes — whether for personal enjoyment or for public display and $$$$$$, my mind turned to boxing. I have always had a strong dislike for this ‘sport’, including confusion on how on earth boxing could ever be classed as SPORT. To be called a winner after bashing someone into insensibility is hardly what I would consider SPORT. At the end of a boxing round — or rounds — there’s the ‘champ’, with his hand held high in victory by the referee, while his opponent lies on the ‘canvas’, blood leaking from his broken nose and a cut over his left eyebrow. SPORT? But there you are: People do it. People watch it. People even pay to see it. Each to his own, I suppose. But….? Recently in Queensland there was a big horse thing called ‘Magic Millions’. There were a few horse races involved but apparently the ‘millions’ was to do with the selling and buying of racehorses. I have written about the horse racing ‘industry’ before. I asked how many families keep horses in their backyard, as it had been reported that the racehorse breeding programs did not, (as some suggested) ‘eliminate’ unsuccessful horses as ‘waste’. “No”, they said, “we rehome all horses that are not used in the ‘industry’. All those horses go to homes where they are cared for lovingly…etc…” Seeing that the rate of horse breeding results in hundreds of horses bred each and every year, far more than those used in racing, there must be thousands of suburban homes that ultimately home and care for one of these excess horses. Do you have a horse in your backyard? No? Me neither. Similarly with greyhounds. A couple of years ago it seemed to be popular – and dare I say, a fashionable thing, to own a ‘Rescued Greyhound’. People walking proudly in the park with their svelte greyhounds seemed to emanate an air of superiority. “I saved this beautiful dog from death”, they implied. “Everyone should do this”. But, then again, there are not hundreds of people walking greyhounds in every park. The number of bred greyhounds, before ability tested and checked by breeders would be a great number annually. Considering numbers ultimately used in the greyhound ‘industry’, I imagine there would be many more ‘unwanted’ dogs than those few we see walking in the suburbs. So, I suppose what I am saying about horse racing and greyhound racing is two-fold: One, that it is debatable if these activities qualify as SPORT. And two, the amount of culling — cruelty, in other words — should be unacceptable. To end on a more positive note concerning SPORT, I have to say that there are many sporting activities that are great. In country communities especially, games of netball, tennis, basketball, soccer, cricket, softball, etcetera — even AFL (women and men) — keep towns together and the players healthy. Activities such as swimming, cycling – even dancing - are all excellent ways to use your time and keep fit. But I have a problem with some other activities referred to as SPORT. If it’s primarily for money and adulation – even if it is an excellent skill, I am not sure if that is true SPORT. I won’t even touch on the Olympics! If it is using a machine or animal, more than human physical activity, then I am not sure if that constitutes a SPORT. If the activity results in a person or an animal (animals?) being hurt or ‘eliminated’, then that should definitely not be considered a FAIR SPORT. I may be wrong.  Here’s a definition of SPORT, from Cambridge dictionary:
‘a game, competition, or activity needing physical effort and skill that is played or done according to rules, for enjoyment and/or as a job’. Okay, I accept that tennis is a sport…but, we have recently been put through days of mind-numbing media reports and analyses concerning a multi-millionaire sportsman who didn’t wish to endure a couple of necessary injections - allowing him to hit a ball over a net. It was hideous the way this story took over the News. It surely set more than me wondering about sport…and the meaning of ‘News’. But, back to SPORT: Sure, there are different modes of SPORT in everyday life. Every type of football can easily be identified as SPORT, even though I cringe at the money aspect of professional teams. But football and other activities do qualify as SPORT, by needing skill and having rules – no matter what you think. Rugby looks like what we used to play as nine-year-olds, called “Keepings off”, where we tried to wrest a ball from our ‘opponents’. Some folk enjoy watching grown men, with thick necks, play that game. Each to his own, I suppose. Cricket is a SPORT – and I admit that I enjoy watching a small amount of it on tv occasionally. But it is just a game where someone throws a ball at someone else, who then tries to hit it ‘effectively’. And a game can last for days! There are individual SPORTS activities such as all forms of athletics, involving running and jumping as well as swimming and surfing, etc. So, I accept there are many SPORTS around that people enjoy watching as well as participating in. But…as for (professional) golf: How anyone can walk around a golf course, (as a spectator) watching grownups hit a little white ball into a hole and consider it an enjoyable way to spend a day eludes me. Apparently, the person who uses the lowest number of hits to get the little ball into a hole is the winner! There’s a person called ‘Tiger’(!) who is a multi-millionaire from doing just that! Then there are activities some call SPORT, that I can’t equate with the word, ‘SPORT’. I’m referring to car and motorbike racing. How can something like that be considered a SPORT? Beats me! Yep, skill, maybe – but SPORT? What about shooting? Yes, shooting. It’s an Olympic SPORT! All about accuracy, I imagine…but SPORT? Over a hundred years ago, pigeon racing was an Olympic SPORT! Even now, some people refer to it as a SPORT! Poor pigeons do all the work, and some human being gets all the praise! Enough! I’ll comment more on the topic of sport in the next blog as I am getting off the track of my original question of WHAT is SPORT? – the starting point being the rogue tennis player who thought he was ‘The Greatest’ in too many ways.  Short blog:
For years – decades, maybe – I have told friends & relatives that it is dangerous (once over 60 years of age - I may have even said ‘over 50’) - to clamber up ladders or climb up on chairs and tables to reach high places. So why did I – at my ancient age – step up on a kitchen chair to place something up on a high shelf? The answer is that I considered myself quite able to do such a thing. Which was/is a wrong assumption. I stepped up on to a chair, lost my balance, flew through the air backwards, landed in a crashing heap on the kitchen floor and whacked my head on hard tiles. Excruciating pain…. Long story, involving a hospital visit (scary in these Covid times), CT scan and a resultant diagnosis of serious concussion. Previously I had no idea that concussion means days (weeks now) of dizziness, headaches, unsteady gait, inability to look at a computer screen without becoming nauseous and a desire to lie on the sofa all day. But that’s it! This is as long a blog post that I can muster right now. Nausea rising! PLEASE everyone – if you are older than about 50, do not climb up on anything, no matter how young you feel you are. Concussion* awaits – and it is not nice. *Worse can happen.  Happy New Year, 2022! Can we even say that? I mean, do we dare expect 2022 to be a happy year after the past two? Yes, I know there were a few good happenings in 2020 and 2021, but I just can’t think of many right now. The past two years have been dominated by a virus that took us by surprise, presenting different lives and behaviours previously unknown. T.S.Elliot wrote, “For last year's words belong to last year's language. And next year's words await another voice.” And so I have compiled a list of ‘last year’s language’ for us to ponder and maybe shudder over: Wuhan, Covid, virus, pandemic, Coronavirus, symptoms, vaccination, antivaxx, Pfizer, AstraZeneca, Moderna, infections, deaths, border closures, outbreaks, cancellations, boosters, Omicron…. And, to counteract those words, here are just a few hopeful suggestions for the language of ‘another voice’ in 2022: Immunity, cure, normal, bliss, happiness….
Fingers crossed!  Well, here’s wishing everyone a happy Christmas – or as happy a Christmas as is possible, considering all the disruptions and worries surrounding the spreading virus as we wonder where the bloody thing is lurking.
I will not go near a shop, even though I have no fake holly for the top of the pudding. That’s no longer important. Our (smaller) family gathering was quite settled and organised – we thought – until number two grandson received a message to say that he had been in a Covid (close contact) space. Well, when you’re 23 and have a pile of friends wanting to let their hair down at the end of the year, what else would you do, but go clubbing? Urrgghh! They think they are indestructible! And they’re not. Now he’s unwell and isolating…poor thing. His mother is upset and so are we all. As no family members have been in close contact with this young man for three weeks we feel we are safe….But…? I am now eligible for a ‘booster’ shot, but much online searching and GP phoning has revealed not a single chance appointment for over a month. So, another meaningless Gov announcement, eh? BUT, ¯ “We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you…..etc… And a Happy New Year.” ¯ I’m sure we all hope it will be a HAPPY NEW YEAR….eventually.  am trying to work out how many years have gone by since my grandmother gave me this little Christmas ornament. It’s more than 50 years ago – possibly 55 years. At the time, she said, ‘Here’s something for you to put out at Christmas time and think of me after I’m gone.’ The candle that burned brightly for a few Christmases has long ago melted into a shapeless blob; fake holly leaves have fractured, parts fallen away. The ribbons have lost their sheen and the baubles are looking tired. One has broken. Three miniature pine-cones remain anchored by wire. Their original host tree probably logged long ago. This ‘hardly an ornament’ is a sad-looking thing and yet I still bring it out of its box every year and place it under the Christmas tree. "Some Christmas tree ornaments do more than glitter and glow, they represent a gift of love given a long time ago." So said English actor, Tom Baker. My little ornament has lost any “glitter and glow” it ever had, but here it is, once again. And I am remembering Grandma with love.   "No one ever fully recovers from their past,” so writes Alan Cumming, Scottish actor, singer and activist.
It’s a dramatic statement, but I would change the words ‘their past’ to ‘their childhood.’ I didn’t have to ‘recover’ from my early life, even though my childhood had – and has had – a substantial influence on my life. That must be true of most people. I was one of the lucky ones. Although there were ups and downs of various kinds during my childhood, it was generally a happy one, where I was constantly well cared-for and loved. Sadly, that is not an experience shared by everyone. Recently I’ve been watching some ‘True Crime’ programs on Netflix. (Yes, I have succumbed!) As these televised investigations reveal details about murders and other shocking offences, it soon becomes apparent that almost all perpetrators of serious crime have experienced appalling childhoods. Some have been forced out of home as mere children - homeless at an unconscionable early age. Some have been mistreated, physically, psychologically, sexually and/or mentally throughout most of their early lives. Some have been the recipients of drug-fuelled neglect. Many never knew a father. Many never knew a mother’s love. “No one ever fully recovers from their past” And: “Give me a child until he is 7 and I will show you the man.” (Attributed to Aristotle). Those statements are telling. The solution seems simple: ensure that every single person experiences a happy, loved, and well-nourished childhood and the crime rate and accompanying misery will all but vanish. If only it were that simple. It is, instead, an impossible and insurmountable problem that, however hard good people and good organisations may try to alleviate the problem of childhood neglect, nothing touches the sides. And so, as children suffer, so too, will society suffer in the end. Too awful. Must add that there are a few decidedly plain nasty (evil?) criminals who may have had a privileged childhood. As, also, there are well adjusted and upstanding members of the community whose early unhappy childhood experiences have not stopped them from having a successful adulthood.  Steering clear of political & other comment, here's a different 'worry':
Something’s amiss. As animal lovers, where did we go wrong? We brought our kids up in country Victoria to give them a rural, nature-filled, animal-loving childhood, away from the cities. Over the years we owned - and cared for - dogs and puppies, baby lambs, calves, cows, goats, chooks, a white mouse, a ginger cat, even a donkey and (of course) guinea pigs. We went on outings to forests and farmlands to experience the environment and to see native animals in their natural habitat. We saw kangaroos, wallabies, wombats, koalas, turtles, and echidnas. The kids seemed to love them all—the ones we had at home and the ones they saw out in the bush. We thought we had given them a love of nature as well as knowledge of how to care for creatures of every sort. Our kids are well grown up now and have families of their own. Our daughter lives on the Gold Coast in Queensland, in a big house that has no room for a pet of any sort. Our son lives in UK with a backyard as big as a pocket handkerchief. Animals? Pets? Zilch! Where did we go wrong? What animals have they had? Do they have? What animals are they caring for? Admittedly, the Gold Coast family had some guinea pigs for a while and the UK ones had a rabbit that lived in a cupboard for a few years. But, as for now…the answer is nil. But, wait! A grown-up grandson and his wife now own two cats. Should I feel that the tide has turned? Probably not!  Remember when, in 2014, the then treasurer, Joe Hockey, stated that “the age of entitlement is over” and it was time for “all Australians to do their fair share of heavy lifting”?
It seems that most Australians have been doing their fair share of heavy lifting over the past two years, with the careful and dutiful following of advice concerning Covid19. Maybe not the sort of ‘heavy lifting’ that our Joe referred to, but heavy lifting, all the same. We have willingly endured lockdowns, separation (sometimes painful) from family and friends, worked from home, home schooled the kids, worn masks, used gallons of hand sanitiser, eaten only home cooked meals, bought essential items online, saw businesses flounder and watched daily tv updates on the progress of the virus. Cooperation has been widespread and, although the virus has taken a dreadful toll, the ‘heavy lifting’ has paid off for millions. But lately the wheels seem to be falling off. Not least of all the politicisation of decisions – mainly what restrictions should be mandatory and what is ‘Freedom’. Politicians are not helping. Unhinged members of the community have been encouraged to display their “unhinged-ness” as they flout safety rules and parade around capital city streets (mask-less) wielding banners with often crazy messages. (I am still asking what the “save our children” one is about!) Eureka flags (inappropriate), praise for Donald Trump (even more inappropriate) and references to the poison that apparently lurks in each vial of vaccine, are but a few examples. A recent count of Covid19 hospital patients has reached a rate of over 90% ratio of unvaccinated, as opposed to fewer than 10% vaccinated. (And the vaccinated patients reportedly are not as sick). So, after the Covid19 “heavy lifting” has been done, the crazies are wrecking the good result, leaving hospitals and hardworking medical staff with MORE “heavy lifting”. |
