School Reunion
Hi all,
Firstly, let me apologise for the length of time between posts. No, it hasn’t been exceptionally busy in my usual mid-work slump, the usual time of the day when emails crank up and I strive to find things to do around the office. No, I havent lost the use of a finger or some other such bodily disfunction that would see me cease my usual witty banter amongst the internets digital domain.
Just call me slack.
Case in point, went to the Tininara Centenary Weekend over the weekend (11th-13th August) and caught up with an old school buddy who mentioned that he hasn’t seen any new activity on this blog since Anzac Day. That, coupled with a few others mentioning this fact, has prompted me to finally get back to writing a blog.
On the weekend, I, along with Lisa, my brother Box, his fiancee Kiah, my parents and my sister, attended the Centenary celebrations of our home town of Tintinara. Its been 100 years since the township of Tintinara was founded, although slightly longer since the first settlers arrived in the area, and Mum has spent the last four years collaborating with other women in the town on a new history book.
For clarification: Dads mum (my grandmother) wrote a booklet about the history of Tininara and Culburra. That was in the 60’s. A few years later, she revised it, but since that time, nobody in the town has attempted to put together a contemporary, cohesive historical record of the town until now. The book, entitled Shut Six Gates, has been a collation of stories and recollections of locals, past locals, and other records gleaned from libraries and museums around the state. It was put together by an author the History Committee approached to complete this monumental task, and Mum 9along with several others) spent a large amount of time gathering all the photos, journals and sories; scanning, typing and printing them out ready for publication. Its taken four years of work (all unpaid) to get the book ready, and is now done.
The weekend was a blast. Some of the people I caught up with I havent seen in nearly two decades of my life on this planet. One person I havent seen in 23 years, since year 3 or primary school. Scouring over old school photos, reminising over old school days, pointing and laughing at old school bullies that haven’t done anything with their lives except propping up the bar of the pub… yep, the old school reunion was a blast. It was amazing to see five of the original 13 classmates from year 1 rock up to say howdy, and it must be said that our year group had the largest attndance out of any year since the school was founded in the early part of last century.
Wandering around the school, and around the town a few days earlier, it must be said that things look a lot bigger when you are a small kid growing up. Building that once seemed so huge, now seem small. Lisa and I had a walk through the classroom I learned to read in, learned my times tables, learned to write in ancient sanscrit….wait, that was called cursive then, wasn’t it. Some of the buidlings were falling into disrepair a little, a product of lack of funding.
Perhaps the biggest thing that almost floored me, was the arrival of my year 1 teacher. I thought she was dead, but she rocked up to the reunion for all to see. I remember thinking in year 1 that she was old to start with, and must have been about sixty –ish at that time: to still be alive and kicking and looking fit-as-a-fiddle was just amazing!
Personally, the past weekend proved only 1 thing to me about going back to live where you grew up after time away.
You can’t go back.
Firstly, let me apologise for the length of time between posts. No, it hasn’t been exceptionally busy in my usual mid-work slump, the usual time of the day when emails crank up and I strive to find things to do around the office. No, I havent lost the use of a finger or some other such bodily disfunction that would see me cease my usual witty banter amongst the internets digital domain.
Just call me slack.
Case in point, went to the Tininara Centenary Weekend over the weekend (11th-13th August) and caught up with an old school buddy who mentioned that he hasn’t seen any new activity on this blog since Anzac Day. That, coupled with a few others mentioning this fact, has prompted me to finally get back to writing a blog.
On the weekend, I, along with Lisa, my brother Box, his fiancee Kiah, my parents and my sister, attended the Centenary celebrations of our home town of Tintinara. Its been 100 years since the township of Tintinara was founded, although slightly longer since the first settlers arrived in the area, and Mum has spent the last four years collaborating with other women in the town on a new history book.
For clarification: Dads mum (my grandmother) wrote a booklet about the history of Tininara and Culburra. That was in the 60’s. A few years later, she revised it, but since that time, nobody in the town has attempted to put together a contemporary, cohesive historical record of the town until now. The book, entitled Shut Six Gates, has been a collation of stories and recollections of locals, past locals, and other records gleaned from libraries and museums around the state. It was put together by an author the History Committee approached to complete this monumental task, and Mum 9along with several others) spent a large amount of time gathering all the photos, journals and sories; scanning, typing and printing them out ready for publication. Its taken four years of work (all unpaid) to get the book ready, and is now done.
The weekend was a blast. Some of the people I caught up with I havent seen in nearly two decades of my life on this planet. One person I havent seen in 23 years, since year 3 or primary school. Scouring over old school photos, reminising over old school days, pointing and laughing at old school bullies that haven’t done anything with their lives except propping up the bar of the pub… yep, the old school reunion was a blast. It was amazing to see five of the original 13 classmates from year 1 rock up to say howdy, and it must be said that our year group had the largest attndance out of any year since the school was founded in the early part of last century.
Wandering around the school, and around the town a few days earlier, it must be said that things look a lot bigger when you are a small kid growing up. Building that once seemed so huge, now seem small. Lisa and I had a walk through the classroom I learned to read in, learned my times tables, learned to write in ancient sanscrit….wait, that was called cursive then, wasn’t it. Some of the buidlings were falling into disrepair a little, a product of lack of funding.
Perhaps the biggest thing that almost floored me, was the arrival of my year 1 teacher. I thought she was dead, but she rocked up to the reunion for all to see. I remember thinking in year 1 that she was old to start with, and must have been about sixty –ish at that time: to still be alive and kicking and looking fit-as-a-fiddle was just amazing!
Personally, the past weekend proved only 1 thing to me about going back to live where you grew up after time away.
You can’t go back.
posted by Fernby at Monday, August 14, 2006
1 Comments:
You really have no idea how long I have been waiting for this post. Or actually maybe you can - April 26th or thereabouts?
It's so interesting to go back to places and eras like that. And you are so right - you can't go back. It can be a little sad, but you appreciate it for what it was in your life, and live in the present. It doesn't matter how short a time it was, you can't go back to any stage of the past.
Love and miss you guys TONNES!!!
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