36 14 fiftyplusextra fiftyplusextra •• November November 2010 2010
poet's corner SHARING Written by Dulcie McLean, 28/10/10 Here’s one for me and one for you. I like these lollies – d’you like them too? My mummy said that I have to give To my friends that I am playing wiv. She says that I should always share, But I really fink it isn’t fair! What if I had a nawful cold, Or getting some snacks? I don’t get told It’s not fair from my point of view To give away what I want to keep And keep what’s awful! It makes me weep!
DREAmTImE OF THE mURRAy Written by Margaret Douglass - 1995 Dreamtime of the Murray is of distance, time and water People, happy, gathering beneath the red gum trees – With fish and fowl, food galore, laughter fun and fire Ancient people lived to blend in Dreamtime, with respect. White men came in a rush To harness all that water – Chopped the trees to farm with ease Oblivious to the slaughter Paddle steamers rushed about Along the ancient waters – “Forget the birds and fish and mud” Was the message to her daughters! The yellow ochre cliffs looked on Amazed, disturbed and frowning – What madness had attacked the land To create all this clowning! The River Spirits closed their ranks, Withdrew their beneficial nectar – Shut down their mighty Providence And gave the folks a lecture “Now Dreamtime doesn’t work like that, Its people need to share – To have respect, to prize the land, Especially the water!” What’s this got to do with me? You say From a thousand miles away – Teach yourself and loved ones To live the Dreamtime way
coffee Break with Nicole Hacking
Whistle stop It was the first day of my first full-time job in the United Kingdom. I had completed the usual Aussie rite of working day hours as a temp and night hours in a smoky pub and had at last secured ‘proper’ employment managing an office.
The place ran quite differently from all the other offices I had worked in. A small family-run manufacturing company, it was messy and chaotic and, unlike the government and educational institutions of my experience, they all wore jeans and sneakers - comfort wear - as they went about their day making tools, machining parts and driving forklifts. I was particularly charmed that each morning we all had to ‘punch in’ using an awesome retro clock card machine that had apparently been garnered from a skip. In a strange flashback, the whole place suddenly reminded me of my friend’s dad’s motorcycle shop in 1973. It wasn’t a bad first day. The invoicing system was all over the place and I had no idea about… well… anything really, but was sure I would pick it up as I went along. My office was right in the middle of the shop floor where the people were rambunctious and friendly, cursing and swearing, laughing and smoking (as was permitted at the time). Some of them were Polish and I couldn’t understand a single word they said, nor they me though it didn’t take us long to adopt the international language of pointing. But, Houston, we had a problem. And, for me, it was a big one. Houston, we had a whistler. A loud whistler who whistled above the shop floor radio and to a completely
But, houston, we had a problem. and, for me, it was a big one.houston, we had a whistler. different tune. A whistler who had no idea he was whistling! As soon as I heard it my blood ran cold and I felt a twitch begin in my eye. Like fingernails down a blackboard, I cringed and shrunk back. A whistler! Oh NO! I tried really, really hard to concentrate on what I was doing but, when one eyeball started to actually turn inward, I politely mentioned it to the girl who was teaching me the ropes. “Oh, that’s Wal,” she said. “He’s been here ever since I have [ten years] and he’s always done that. Sometimes he does Christmas tunes”. Another particularly discordant trill ran down my spine. “But… ummm… don’t the other guys find it distracting?” I asked. “Oh yes,” she continued. “We used to tell him all the time but we’ve given up now. He would stop for a minute but then forget and start again. You wait until you meet Pete – he’s even worse”. Something in my head fell off a cliff: NOOOOOooooo...!!! I wasn’t sure what to do. Of all the
challenges of a new job, this was by far the biggest. Like the torture of a dripping tap, the sound made me sick and crazy. In the end, the only thing I could do was to try my best to wear it. Fortunately, over time, I struck up a rapport with Wal so that I could make a joke of it and ask him to stop - but the girl had been right: he didn’t realise he was doing it and would soon start again. As a form of therapy, I began announcing Wal’s musical repertoire to Fundy each night upon arriving home. Some days I would testify that he had done an on-repeat rendition of “Ob-la-di ob-la-da”, other days it would be “Rock around the clock”. One day it was an unmelodious “Scarborough Fair”, then it would be an off-tune theme from Star Wars complete with beginning beat. Each night Fundy would wait for my bulletin and we would have a little laugh over it. But then I was banned from bringing it home because Wal had started whistling “Camp Granada”. “What’s Camp Granada?” queried Fundy as he unpacked the shopping. “You know,” I said, beginning to sing, “Hello Muddah, hello Faddah, here I am at Camp Granada…” I got into trouble after that because Fundy did indeed know it and it got stuck in his head for three days.
through the years with John Miller
humble beginnings for freemasons hotel The Freemasons Hotel is one of Molong’s landmarks, with the impressive double-storey building sitting on the corner of the Mitchell Highway and Bank Street, the town’s main street, and in full view of most passers-by. This early postcard of the Freemasons was supplied by Gloria Jaeger and possibly dates from the 1880s. It was taken when H Francis was the proprietor and there are possibly some people standing in the doorway, along with a little dog on the footpath outside.
A good leader is one who takes more than his share of the blame and less than his share of the credit.
While the hotel itself was a humble single-storey structure, the flagpole at the front would have been very visible to passers-by in the 19th Century. The large double-storey building on the far right also has Freemasons painted as a sign at the top while there also appears to be some decorations strung between the trees and along the verandah. The hotel was originally erected in the 1850s and was demolished in 1911 to make way for the present structure.
The site for a permanent village of Molong was gazetted in 1850 and the first land sales took place in 1856 following which a number of buildings were erected, including hotels and churches. The municipality was constituted in 1878, the railway reached the town in 1886, the hospital was built in 1887 and the Town Hall in 1888. Molong is a word of the Wiradjuri nation meaning ‘many rocks’ or ‘place of many rocks’.