Shouts From Down Under

Stories told by how people live. Silent lessons by example.

The man or woman who manages this Station could tell a few yarns surely? Imagine the stack of novels he, or she, could rack up in the Station homestead library?

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Do you have a family story left untold? Will this generation of grandchildren, growing up right now, come to nursing homes to listen to you when you're in your 90's? Will iPods, iPads, iPhones, and Samsungs leave them no time to hear you out, even if they thought it worth their time?

Maybe, although I think we would be making a large mistake to misinterpret, or judge these young people.

The thing I've learned about myself is I wish I had thought to look to the future, and understood the reason for paying my Grandparents, and Parents, more attention. Much more.
I sometimes think back and know that if I'd spent a lot more time with my Grandparents, and asked them every detail about their lives, that I'd have a stack of valuable material, a filing cabinet full to draw on now.

My grandfather was a shearer like my dad. He grew up in the horse and sulky days, before electricity, when black-smithing was the norm, and when you worked the horses or bullock team, not the phones or controls of a machine.
He always struggled with operating machinery, revving the ring out of chainsaws, diesels, tractors, didn't use a spirit level or plumb line, or square when building.

I did work with him for brief times when I was younger and can remember it was always a good idea to keep clear of Pa.
Sometimes he'd turn around with a four by two and knock your head nearly off.
He'd always been deaf from my earliest memories of him, and not only deaf but his hair had turned white overnight at 21 years old (If I'm not mistaken).
Pa could have explained many old time ways of doing things such as repairing spokes or axles on carts, shoeing horses, perhaps how to trap rabbits and dingoes (I can hear people's outrage at the idea now).

He did teach me to drive and operate a Fordson Kerosene / Petrol powered tractor, and how to use a disc plough to work over a sandy barren paddock. And he did teach me respect for my elders, basic obedience (there was always a good reason why you obeyed, and a better one if you didn't) and being careful and kind towards others.
Without saying anything to me, he taught by example of not stealing, treating your neighbors well even if they did you wrong, controlling your tongue (I still struggle with this), and working hard honest hours with no complaining.
He was usually up very early and went to bed with the chooks. He believed that hard work equaled success.



I suppose after I sit down and write a little of what I did learn from my grandfather, it's more than I at first thought.

So imagine if I'd known then the value of writing it all down, and asking a lot more. I'm sure they'd have found time to tell me. Tell me all about my Grandmother's Governess days, her violin lessons, when the acetylene carbide lights were still in use in Sydney, when the call came for World War 1. When other stuff happened that we just read in books, but she would have read in the paper. They didn't have a TV. But word of mouth worked quite well back then. They had telephones. The Bakelite ones with a crank handle on top. You had to crank this a long time to signal the exchange person. Privacy depended on people's level of prudence or decorum. And how tempting it would be for anyone to listen in on conversations while making sure "no one was on the line".

Even more so, imagine if I'd owned the first film capturing equipment and then a video camera / camcorder. The films would be invaluable now.
There's a lot of information available though, and perhaps being wistful about what was lost is just an excuse not to use what was kept.

Sparky

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