Living Life Twice

Today is a great day for some reflection. For today marks the end of a journey. -A journey that commenced exactly a month ago with my involvement in the Slice of Story Challenge for March. This writing challenge was concieved and set up by Stacey Shubitz and Ruth Ayres from Two Writing Teachers  and it is to these writers and educators, I am indebted. It is said that it is the journey not the destination that is important, and there is ample evidence that is indeed true. While taking part in this challenge I have made discoveries, for part of this journey has involved exploring self. I have also been able to learn of common incidents in their real state by reading the words of fellow writers. These incidents have allowed me to contemplate and connect, despite our geographical differences. I have gained a better appreciation of the happiness that resides in the present moment. When we learn to do this we stop borrowing from the bank of future hope. I have also made discoveries, -w...

Today I flew to Brisbane for a few days of relaxation at Broadbeach on Queensland’s Gold Coast. My frequent flyer points made this flight cost free. However, it was a no frills flight and the only item they didn’t charge customers for was the air we breathed. Broadbeach is slightly south of Surfer’s Paradise and is a destination favoured by snowbirds. It is some time since I was last here and development continues to leave its indelible mark on this coastal Mecca. This area is Australia’s Florida. The people of the Australia southern states flock here, particularly in the winter months, when the local population swells. It is currently school holiday time and children are everywhere in profuse numbers. The air here is warm and heavy. Dense cumulonimbus clouds blanket the sky and one senses rain is never far away. A sense of languidness pervades the action of people out and about on the streets. The pace is suitably slow. You feel your shoulders relaxing.... I find airports fascinatin...

It rained heavily overnight. Following successive seasons of below average rain, we now appear to be moving into a period of increased rainfall. Autumn has arrived with a series of resounding downpours. The creek below our house is running a gusher this morning. It is almost bursting its banks such is the rush of water down its course. Most of the year its maintains a low steady flow as it meanders around rocks on its way to Port Philip Bay less than a kilometre away. Ducks and wading birds such as egret occasionally drop in for a splash and a feed. Water weeds thrive in the warm shallow water along the banks during the summer months. Butterflies flitter about seeking out the butterfly bushes (Buddleia davidii) I planted near the creek's edge. . Today the character of the creek is dramatically altered. It is ferocious and irrepressible. No wading today. The torrent races by our place along the valley of the creek with such impressive momentum. The birds seem impressed by the rain...

I hope I am not being presumptuous by delving into the someone elses domestic issues, but I do have some experience, be it limited, with the US health system... I recall watching a documentary in the eighties titled ‘ Don’t Get Sick in America’ The film outlined the problems associated with the delivery of health services in America at that time. Its message has remained with me through the years. My six years living in the US as a legal alien taught me a few extra things about the prevailing health system. At one point I experienced its obvious limitations. I paid $1500.00 for a few rudimentary blood tests. -Tests that would have been covered by the health system had I been home in Australia. I eventually recouped my costs because I could afford additional health insurance. I was stunned when a rudimentary consultation at a cost of $200  had to be paid up front, before the doctor would agree to see me. These events reinforced my concerns about th...

My Dad was renowned as a creature of habit. He always sat in the same chair in our family lounge room and always drank his cup of tea from the same cup.-and it was always Robur tea. His daily rituals were firmly established. He did not entertain the idea of radical change, or unexpected departure from established behaviours. Now I’m beginning to realize that I too have some firmly established routines and rituals. This morning for instance, I was up and about early, just after sunrise, in order to make an eight o’clock appointment with my hairdresser. It’s Saturday morning and I’m continuing a ritual that has endured for more than twenty years. I have been going to the same hairdresser, Leni for all that time. The appointments have been set for early on a Saturday morning for as long as I can remember. I am in and out of the salon in just over twenty minutes and it always goes something like this when I arrive. ‘Morning Alan, are we going short today?’ ‘No, just a trim thanks Leni...

I took a bag containing a collection of artefacts into a classroom last week. I invited students to delve into the bag and take out a single item. I then shared the story associated with each item. In my mystery bag of goodies students lifted out a ticket to the Sydney Olympics, an old camera originally owned by my father, a Turkish coin, a photograph of my grandson, a badge designed by Author and illustrator, Terry Denton and an antique Balinese bamboo spice container. The students listened respectfully as I told the stories quickly and enthusiastically. They had questions, their curiosity aroused by the various items I shared. My aim was to show them that we all have stories to tell. Sometimes those stories surround the keepsakes, treasures and artefacts we hold close.  I challenged them to think about some of their personal artefacts as a potential source for writing ideas. They resolved to go home and sketch or photograph some of these treasures and place them into their...

An exchange I had with a teacher just a few days ago has been on my mind since then. It is buzzing around my brain. The teacher was at pains to tell me how her students were struggling to think of topics for their writing. ‘They never seem to come up with much, so that’s why I have to give them sentence starters.’ The word 'have' jarred in my ears. I was asked to work with her students. ‘Could you demonstrate how writers get their ideas?’ I wondered if the teacher had ever considered this same question? Had those young writers been asked to explore this same idea? I got the impression I was expected to fix them in some way. I felt strongly that the answer lay elsewhere. Had any enquiry taken place? Demonstrating and modelling how we connect to the world around us is a vital lesson for our students. We need to demonstrate how we see the potential in things for writing each and every day. We need to demonstrate how we harvest ideas and how we excavate mem...

I’m standing in front of our house it is late in the evening and I am patiently waiting for our little dog Boo to do what dog’s need to do at the end of the day. It is a surprisingly mild evening for March and as Boo scratches and sniffs about, I wait patiently like a supervising parent.  I look skyward. There is the hint of a breeze this evening and the trees whisper a kind of lullaby. The night sky is clear and my eyes connect with a glittering star garden. I can see for a million miles tonight but I have no interest in going anywhere at this particular moment. I stand in awe and wonder as this magnificent sparkling extravaganza; this blanket of stars holds me mesmerized. I begin looking for the Southern Cross constellation. As a young boy I would lie in bed and stare out my window at the night sky. The moon would shine on me. My recollection of this childhood memory is immediate and strong. As Boo trots back to me, snuffling and brushing against my leg in a sign t...

Today I was up at 5.20am in order to work at a school in Melbourne’s west. When I left home it was 6.30am and still dark outside. The morning was mild and the sound of birdsong muted. The warble of magpies had not begun, although in the distance the cackle of the kookaburras was noticeable. Like me they were out and about early. The difference being that I rarely cackle in the morning. It often takes me some time before I can open both eyes simultaneously. If I leave at this time, the journey only takes me a little over 75 minutes. It places me marginally ahead of the morning rush. If I leave any later, the trip becomes a stop start crawl than can take almost two hours. The choice is a no brainer really. Commuter chaos is not an attractive option. So up, and on the road early is the way to go. I arrived at the school a good hour before school commenced. This allowed me time to settle into the day ahead, fine tune my demonstration lessons, organize resources and check in with teacher...

Yesterday I made green tomato pickle. I picked the last of the tomatoes from our small vegetable garden, found a recipe for green tomato pickle relish and set about producing a few jars of this delicious condiment. Today when I entered the house, I could smell the sweet remnant smells of the previous day’s cooking. The blending of tomatoes, onions, apple vinegar, sugar and spices were lingering in the air. There was a time when I’d regularly do cooking and preserving of our home grown produce, but other things has pushed this activity to the back of the queue in recent years. It was most satisfying to reconnect with such therapeutic activity. Cutting the onions and apple, blanching the tomatoes and then removing the skin, combining them in a large pot on the stove and adding copious amounts of vinegar, sugar and spices was fun. Then I found myself with the task of constant stirring over the simmering pot as the ingredients softened; the mingling aromas tickling my nose. The best thing ...