Rowville Ramblings

Nothing to be ashamed of if you stub your toe on the moon

2010-03-30T16:51:00.009+11:00

"If you stub your toe on the moon"
So went the words of Jimmy Van Heusen's Lyric which was sung Bing Crosby in "A Yankee in King Arthur's Court".
Waking early this morning I had this thought, "Perhaps I should go down to Churchill Park and take some photos of the sunrise".
With Daylight Saving still in force, there was plenty of time as that "Great Hunter from the East" would not put the stars to flight until at least 7.15am.
Arriving at the gates of the Park I was surprised to find the gates open. After negotiating a path round a fallen tree, I parked the car and made my way up the hill along a path lit by a glorious moon making it's way toward the Western horizon.
The moon was fair indeed, and armed with my little point and shoot digital camera I snapped of quite a few shaky shots. The great thing about digital cameras you can take as many photos as you like, it doesn't matter.

Here's a really shaky one, but then again, doesn't the night have a thousand questions?

I made my way circling higher, around until I came to an Eastern aspect, snapping happily, even the kangaroos were surprised to see me

I was thinking to myself, "It won't be long now, He will soon be appearing in all his splendour".
I filled in the waiting moments taking snaps of some Kangaroos who were very shaky but obviously on the right track

It was time to forget the Kangaroos, The Great Hunter from the East was about to rise
AAARRRGGGHHHHH, My battery has gone flat, Oh NO, I didn't bring a spare one

But I have to admit, the moon was very fair, No wonder I stubbed my toe on it, so to speak. I heard on the news that it was a "Blue Moon".
I made my way home and got another battery and took a compromise shot from our road

This stupendous event takes place every day and seems common place, probably because it is. From different vantage points there is a continuous sunrise and that is a wonderful thing

Springtime in theHeart (of Rowville)

2009-11-05T16:57:00.012+11:00

Within walking distance from our house is the Churchill National Park. I don't walk there as much as I should because there are no dogs allowed, and "Monty" is a dog.

Today I "snuck" out on Monty, toiled my way through the park to the top NE gate which opens out into the Lysterfield park area. It was there I discovered the "Woodland Walk". I walked along there for about a Kilometer until the track turned left and disappeared down a steep gully. I stopped, I'd been caught before, what goes down just has to come up again. Like New Guinea!

The log (above) looked good, even though it teetered a little as I sat on it.
I opened my sandwich, poured out my milk coffee and enjoyed the sun on my back and the sweet silence of the Australian bush. I thought to myself, "it doesn't get much better than this"
After my repast I thought to open a little New Testament I had with me, thinking to myself, "God might have something to say to me"
I was reading in The Acts of the Apostles, where an angel had led Peter out of a prison and he found himself knocking on the door of a house where people had gathered to pray for his release, and they didn't let him in because they wouldn't believe the girl who was telling them that Peter was at the front door, what a laugh!
Suddenly the silence of the bush was shattered by the bounding of about a dozen kangaroos, a few of them half grown, some went by close on my left and others on my right, one even went by on my right about two metres away and at shoulder height.
I was surprised to remember afterwards that my loud response at the time was "Hooley Dooley".

I went back to the book God has out, and after a while I was aware that there was an unusual buzzing of bees. I walked over to investigate, keeping a safe distance from
source of the buzzing, I saw that hundreds of bees were going in and coming out of the hole in a dead tree pictured above. This reminded me of some of our exploits in the early days in the Mallee robbing beehives which were not always successful, but always hilarious,in retrospect.We didn't always use smoke!

After reading a little longer, I looked up and noticed several ears sticking up above the grassy edge about 30 metres away. Each pair of ears had two very curious eyes underneath them, and that was all that was showing. It looked quite comical.
One older chap took the opportunity to sneak around the side of me for a closer look but by the time I got my camera on him he was merging into the bush.

As I began to walk back I plugged in a tiny radio that I had taken along.
Australian Aboriginal people were speaking on this program about the land being their land in spite of the fact of the boat people that came along in recent days and changed nearly everything.
As they spoke I could only wonder at the spiritual aspect that permeated all there understanding.
The boat people that came now think they own the place, and as for their spirituality or lack thereof, they get terribly agitated even if they think
that it might be mentioned in schools that there is the possibility of intelligent design in the creation.
Oh dear me, did I say creation?, I think even might upset many of them.

Spring Time is great, especially Spring Time in the heart

The Shed

2009-10-19T17:25:00.014+11:00

I made bold plans as I lay in my bed. I would do it. I would, as it were, "Storm the Bastille".My plan was as simple as it was clever. It was going to be an all out frontal attack on THE SHED

Lawlessness was prevailing out there
There would be nothing less than Revolution, a new order would prevail., (at least some sort of order)

Rubbish would be swept up, long cherished items would be thrown out in a perfunctory manner, There would be no mercy, "no prisoners would be taken"

There would be a place for EVERYTHING and EVERYTHING would be in it's place.
"You may call me a dreamer, but I'm not the only one". The sweet words were running through my mind.

The first thing that fell under my stern gaze was the weedsprayer.
It was heavy and always hard to put on my back.
My plan was clever. I would make a hook for it at shoulder height in the secondary shed. As I was doing that I noticed that the lawlessness that abounded in shed one was also rampant in shed 2

As I repaired to my computer desk for a rest, I had this quiet sense of achievement deep within, but as I surveyed my desk top unease began to creep into my conciousness.
There was something about my desk top that was like the shed, lawlessness was abounding.
The mist was lifting, I had been diverted from my noble cause by some clever subliminal message eminating from "The Shed"

What to do?
As you can see some good things come out of the shed.
Maybe a compromise is called for.
Like Wellington said when he defeated Napoleon, "It was a close run thing"
I am not giving up, I will attack again tomorrow at dawn.
"We will overcome one day" and then Conputer desk, Watch out!

Another ANZAC Day

2009-04-24T15:16:00.015+10:00

The ANZACS were represented by the young men from Australia and New Zealand who took their places in the terrible, conflict known as World War 1, 1914-1918.
Those who were fortunate to return home with their lives have by now all joined their fallen comrades who fell on the battlefields.
Tomorrow, April 25 we in Australia and New Zealand will remember them along with all the others who served their respective countries in other conflicts since.
Two of my older brothers served in World War 2. They too have joined the fallen comrades.
My father David who passed on in 1981 told me many stories of his experiences in that WW1 conflict. His memories were very vivid.Sometimes he would tell of exploits, being mentioned in dispatches, having fun with his comrades, but at other times lamenting that he had just been a two Shillings a day murderer. I remember my sister asking my mother why my dad had reacted badly to something or other and my mother answered, "It's the war"!
In 2004 I my wife and I had the good fortune to visit the Somme are in France. It was a memorable day for us. I am adding a few photos with some comments

Sue and I at Vlllers Brettonneux. It was here on another April 25 that my Dad was mentioned in dispatches

A letter from King George, I would guess all the wounded got one. It is written in ink. I wonder if he had a host of "Ghost Writers"?

Sue at Pozziers. It was near here that her father was shot through the thigh and spent about a year in a hospital in Birmingham, some problem with infection. He was a driver bringing up 13lb shells and the German snipers would pick off the drivers

This would be somewhere in the vicinity where my dad was hit by a wizbang which removed his right shoulder muscle as well as other damage. His wound was in the 'light" category although it was thought he would never be able to raise his arm above his head. He had come to the conclusion that nothing would ever hit having had so many very close shaves, but said that as he made his way to safety he thought everything was going to hit him!

Our youngest son Ben became our tour guide and was later able to go into Belgium (vicariously for me!), where my dad also fought and lost many comrades

Villers Brettoneux again with the town itself in the distance.

Outside Villers Brettneux school museum, unfortunately shut on the one day I could be there.

Moquet Farm was up near the pine trees, the paddock in foreground was a mass of tunnels and concrete, almost impregnable.

Writing on the plaque

LEST WE FORGET

One Year in the Life of Donald Holt

2008-09-13T23:33:00.012+10:00

Several years ago I read a book that made quite an impression on me.
One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich written by Aleksandr Isayevich Solzhenitsyn.

Solzhenitsyn, December 11, 1918 – August 3, 2008) was a Russian novelist, dramatist and historian. Through his writings, he made the world aware of the Gulag, the Soviet Union's labour camp system, and for these efforts Solzhenitsyn was exiled from the Soviet Union in 1974. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1970. He returned to Russia in 1994. He was the father of Ignat Solzhenitsyn, a conductor and pianist. He died at home after years of declining health on August 3, 2008.

August 3 2008, just a few weeks ago, his passing is worth a mention.

We all have our days, our years and our own story and all the stories are worth a mention. I often can't recall what I what I did yesterday, but 2008 have has some moments, probably mundane, ordinary, but I would hazard a guess that that people in situations like the one Ivan Denisovich was depicted in would gladly change me places.
My BLOG entered on January 26 is about the Great Grand daughter of the year.
February 23 is about the wedding of the year
And just a week or two ago our fifth son Simon was awarded the Book of the Year.
The book is titled "God Next Door" (Acorn Press), and of course I'm proud of him.
I'm sure you will find something about this on Simon's Page which is found on a column on this BLOG Site.
On the 7th of June, my wife Peta Sue suffered a stroke from which she has made a remarkable recovery, for which we thank God.
On June 25 I had a Carpal Tunnel release done on my left hand, that's worth a mention!
Children and Grandchildren have traveled all over the globe through this period, to mention a few, Our oldest son, Mark, visited Zimbabwe, Grandson Kamis returned home from the Middle east area, Granddaughter Gemma is in London after touring parts of Europe and Grandson Jarred is, of all places, in Iceland!
The furthest afield that Sue and I have got is to the Gold coast, and I have a picture to prove it

A Wonderful Day

2008-02-23T02:32:00.010+11:00

Last Saturday, February 16 2008 our youngest son Ben married Zo, the love of his life.
This took place in the Treasury Gardens, Melbourne (Australia)
The weather was delightful, we couldn't have set the temperature better with a thermostat.
Apart from the professional photographers, we all got some great pics with our little digital cameras

This is Zo and she is beautiful

This is Ben and he is happy

And this is Pastor Geoff Baker tying the knot

And this is Ben's Mum and Dad, very pleased with the whole event

There seems to be a lot of people today saying (and acting out), "why get married, this can just be walked away from anyway".
If people want to act in this way it is up to them, but it is certainly not the way for Christians who believe that marriage is ordained by God. It shows commitment of one man to one woman, and commitment of that man and that woman to any children they may have together.
While some may believe that marriage is on the way out,the scriptures indicate(albeit in warning)that marriage will still be being entered into on the last day.
It's well worth your while having a bit of a read. Luke 17:26-30.
"Just as it was in the days of Noah, so shall it be in the days of the Son of Man, people were eating and drinking, marrying and being given in marriage...... It will be just like this on the day the Son of Man is revealed....

I'm a Grand Father, That's great!

2008-01-28T23:03:00.000+11:00

I am now a Great Grandfather by courtesy of Holly. Meet Holly
The upside of this development- Holly.
The downside is that I have a son who is a Grandfather,and that is not all, I have discovered that I am sleeping with a great grandmother!

Here is Great Grandmother with Grand daughter, Katie, (the mother), and Holly, the great grand daughter.

And here is number four son with his own grand daughter

It's All Happening!

2007-12-11T14:16:00.000+11:00

It's now a few weeks since I sat and made a heading for this post. Because there has been just so much happening, along with the fact that I am a prize procrastinator, much of what was "all happening" has already happened.
Before enlightening everybody about the following pictures I have just a little controversial something to say. In today's paper I read an article that started off like this:- More than 400 prominent scientists worldwide declared themselves "Climate Change Sceptics" in 2007, followed by sentences like this one. "Some say.'There may be global warming but claim it is caused by factors other than man made greenhouse emissions, such as solar flaring and radiation".
Did I ever tell you that my Dad used to get Inigo Jone's long range weather forecasts, and this was back in about 1940. I remember my Dad saying that Inigo Jones predicts a 10 year drought in the area at the turn of the century!
I am also interested to find that God Himself has gone on record with these words, recorded in the Book of Genesis Chapter 8 and verse 22 regarding His covenant with creation after the great flood.
"While the earth remains, seed time and harvest, and cold and heat, and winter and summer, and day and night shall not cease"
You may think me a little strange to say the least, but I find comfort and reassurance in His Word.

Christmas morning we enjoyed a breakfast with my wife Peta's sister Margy, her husband Teddy, their daughter Lisa and her partner Anthony.

In the evening all the Holt's, with a couple of notable exceptions descended upon Zo's place. The exceptions were the Tasmanians,(The Larry Holt family) heavily pregnant Katie, and Middle East wanderer Kamis.
There was plenty of food good company, a spa and pool table.

One of the things yet to happen is that Ben and Zo are getting married in about 7 weeks.This is the couple in picture above. We are eagerly awaiting this day.

Above is number three son Greg and Grandson Nathaniel. They are contemplating the assembly of a Dinosaur. Greg made all the pieces which fit perfectly,on a computerised router table that he built. A clever lad this one!
Well, I guess that there is always something about to happen. Just a few days to New Years Day 2008. The day after that Peta and I will celebrate 54 years of married life together. I did a good days work when I threw my rope over that one.
I wish you all a happy New Year

WISDOM, better than fine gold

2007-11-21T12:41:00.000+11:00

While cleaning around the garden and thanking God for the lovely rain this morning I was thinking again about the thing Jesus said about "Wisdom being justified of all her children" Luke 7:35.
I went inside and began to Google, a message from the lawyer come preacher, Finney, many pictures the magi, (the wise guys) and a great little Utube presentation of a young preacher named Jason. Have a listen to him by using the link. I'll copy the address here in case the enclosed link doesn't show up:- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_UdBvNyP5s

The Baptist Church up the road at Rowville probably have their Christmas sign up again which says, "Wise men still seek Jesus"
May you find the truth that Jesus is the wisdom of God, and have a happy Christmas

Canberra and Sydney Town

2007-10-06T13:45:00.000+10:00

A couple of weeks ago we went to Sydney via the Canberra War Memorial.
I spent a whole day in the memorial as there was a special exhibition of WW1 Flanders Fields battles in France. My dad was there that particular year so it was of special interest to me.
I was intrigued to see how dated was the Harley Davidson Motor Cycle that my brother Cyril rode as a MP. WW2 this time though!

Sydney Town of course was wonderful and our number four son Paul spent a small fortune wining and dining us right on the harbour

Below is a photo taken in the late 60's of one of our visits to my late brother Murray's home at Bankstown

The land and position being so valuable the old house has been demolished and a mansion put in its place, as with most of the other houses in the street.

On the way home we stopped at Yass, off the freeway, and enjoyed a picnic lunch.
The Australian Magpies are also fond of picnic lunches.
I thought to myself, "What a delightful place to live"
But then, just like Heaven, where every seat will be a good one, you should count yourself most fortunate if you have a little spot in Australia

The Wattle day that never was (almost)

2007-09-01T11:35:00.000+10:00

I awoke this morning to the buzz of a chain saw next door. The sun was shining, a gorgeous morning indeed, the beautiful song of an Australian magpie was rising above that other rude sound. It was 9am. I had slept in beautifully. I leapt out of bed, showered,and put on my Sunday finery for church.
After telling my wife it was time to get up, I went out to survey this beautiful morning. To my surprise, there was a rolled up newspaper on the front lawn. We don't get the Sunday paper, this was a surprising development. I peeled of the glad wrap from the paper to discover that it was a Saturday paper. How odd, I thought to myself, "why on earth has that happened"? I was even more perplexed when I looked at he contents of the paper and realised I had not seen these articles yesterday. Things were just getting curiouser and curiouser.
My wife came out to the kitchen and I asked her, "Did we get a paper yesterday"? She said, "Yes". I said, "Well they have left us another one today, and it is a Saturdays paper". My wife's reply was as startling as it was illuminating, she said "It is Saturday".
It took a few moments to absorb this truth, and its implications.
It was indeed Saturday, It was also the first day of Spring, and what's more, it was Wattle Day. It was the day I had been waiting for, and I nearly missed it altogether

It was just a couple of days ago that I visited a Neurologist. As I was returning home I stopped to photograph just any old Wattle tree for my blog, not a great picture as I had to jump out of the way of some mad motorist as I snapped it.
Talking about this Nuerologist coot, he took just on seven minutes giving me electric shocks to tell me that I had severe Carpal Tunnel in both hands. I got his bill post haste, like next day. I am still smarting over the fact that he charged me $30 per minute. This made me feel a little better for charging people $30 and hour for repairs and restoration.
My wife is already convinced that this warrants an operation or two. My thoughts are that a little Elmore Oil might just do the trick. After all,this oil has fixed up a trigger finger in spite of Doctor Nick's dogmatic statement that no amount of rubbing oil into it would do any good at all.

Wattle Day Is Coming

2007-08-07T13:13:00.000+10:00

Under the Southern Cross I stand
A sprig of wattle in my hand
A native of our native land
Australia, Australia, you * * * beauty

Rod Marsh, Australian Cricketer. 1987

As you will notice, the Wattle has its place on the Australian coat of arms
Here is an excerpt from the Wattle Day page:-
In Australia, the wattles are the largest genus of flowering plants. Of the 1380 species of acacia in the world, Australia has about 985. And in Australia acacias are the extremely diverse - found in habitats from rainforest to arid lands. The largest numbers of species are found in the semi-arid wheatbelt region of Western Australia but high numbers also occur associated with the rocky tablelands of the Great Divide in eastern Australia. Although species numbers are generally lower in the inland desert regions, it is here that Wattles are King with species like Mulga (Acacia aneura) dominating the landscape for hundreds and hundreds of kilometres. Wattles range in size from mat-like creepers (e.g. Acacia aculeatissima and pulviniformis) to tall forest trees (e.g. Acacia bakeri and Acacia celsa). Most, however, are shrubs or small trees between about 1 and 5 metres tall (e.g. Acacia acinacea and Acacia acuminata).
Botanists still ponder the question as to why there are so many different species of wattle in Australia. Why in Australia is there such wattle diversity?
Australians may have made a home for themselves amongst the gumtrees, but it is the wattletree that has found its way into Australian symbolism. Most Australians can recognise a wattle, at least when it is in flower. In the years leading up to Federation in 1901, the Australian Natives Association (ANA) began a campaign to find a national flower as an emblem for Australia like the rose for the English, the thistle for the Scots, leeks for the Welsh and the shamrock for the Irish. The Canadians had just recently chosen their maple. The wattle was the choice, the ANA committee said, as it was not excluded from any part of Australia, had bright beauty and was useful in tanning hides! The wattle was being called upon to represent an egalitarian, classless Australia of golden prosperity. Wow!

Wattle Day — 1 September or 1 August
The long-standing differences of opinion and confusion as to which date, 1 August or 1 September, is more appropriate for Wattle Day was settled in 1992 when agreement reached between the Commonwealth and States – 1 September is the day. This standardization resulted from the urgings of Maria Hitchcock and her associates.
Unaware of this vital snippet of information, it was on on Sunday avo, August 5 .I set of for the nearby hills to feast my eyes on the blazing wattle blooms. The above picture and the ones below confirm, there was no wattle blooms to be seen.
On reflection, I realised that I had been "caught" before,the wattles bloom later in the cooler heights.
Oh to be in the Mallee right now, the golden wattle would be breath taking, Ah well.

I was within walking distance of my home where I was able to photograph the only bit of wattle bloom I saw

Where I was born and grew up, at Quambatook our farmhouse was called "Wattleview", and I have to tell you the Golden Wattle was a magnificent sight before the droughts of the 1940s wiped them out for a time.
We used to get the wattle bark, soak it in water and then put our dogs feet in the solution to toughen up their paws. You probably need to store this piece of information.
What do you think about the title I chose for my Blog?
Rowville Ramblings... very apt.

"WHO SAID THAT"?

2007-07-12T10:38:00.000+10:00

Number One.
"Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light"
The Apostle Paul said "Some bloke said it". (Eph 5:14)
Number Two
"Thy kingdom come"
Jesus Christ Himself said it.(Luke 11:2)
Number Three
"There is nothing so stable as change"
Attributed to Bob Dylan
He then must have gone out and wrote his song, "The times they are a changin".

This strange assortment came to me as I lay in a waking stupor this AM with the nagging thought that I should write another Blog.
That probably accounts for Number One.
Number two was the refuge to which I fled after contemplating modern change and some of its ramifications. Number Two will bring in the most widespread and the best changes ever.(Even so, come Lord Jesus)
Number three came out of our week end trip to Sydney, the jewel of the East, and also out of watching radio communications and the ABC, made in the late 40's and screened on ABC 2 last night. The 1940's seemed so quaint and I had to pinch myself and say, this is how it really was, sending telegrams and meeting ships, going to counters and speaking with real people.Some things have improved, like people not puffing smoke all over the place, but sad to say, good manners have not!

The first two photos below will serve to remind us of the change in our number one son's life.
Mark and Val lived in this lovely little house for some time, but there are now only memories

Mark and Val were smart, they bought the worst house in a very nice street and turned it into a lovely little cottage. What a nice place to have spent some of their life

Nevertheless, "Change Happens"
The next three pics show something of the change in the life of our number four son, Paul.
This is his new digs within walking distance of the Castle Hill shopping complex
Surpise surprise, just a short drive from Mark and Val's cottage in Glenhaven.

Here is Paul setting up his kitchen and as you look out the window there you can see into the yard of St Bernadette's Church and Primary School caught ion the pic below

While it is true that change happens it is also true that some things don't change quickly enough. I'm thinking about the road from Melbourne to Sydney, the famous Hume Highway. I am still waiting for the duel road to be completed between Yass and Holbrooke. As Gough Whitlam said. "Its Time"

The sentimental bloke

2007-05-31T10:08:00.001+10:00

If it is true that Nostalgia is not what it used to be, sentimentality is looked sideways by many at as being sloppy etc
But I think sentimental is OK

In 1915 C J Dennis published The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke, which told the story of an Aussie bloke courting and finally marrying the love of his life, Doreen. The book was an immediate success, selling over 66,000 copies in 18 months.

Fer 'er sweet sake I've gone and chucked it clean:
The pubs an' schools an' all that leery game.
Fer when a bloke 'as come to know Doreen,
It ain't the same.
There's 'igher things, she sez, for blokes to do.
An' I am 'arf believin' that it's true.

Yes, 'igher things--that wus the way she spoke;
An' when she looked at me I sorter felt
That bosker feelin' that comes offer a bloke,
An' makes 'im melt;
Makes 'im all 'ot to maul 'er, an' to shove
'Is arms about 'er . . . Bli'me? But it's love!

Bill did battle with the Stror at coot and came out smelling of roses.

Here is another another sentimental bloke. I was always under the impression that the song was written in George's later years (and you can't let the facts get in the way of a good story) but it seems he wrote it as he gazed into the future.
A good heart tugger nethertheless.
When You And I Were Young Maggie
Words by George W. Johnson
Music by James Austin Butterfield (1866)

An historic American folksong written in 1866 by George W. Johnson writing about his wife, an ex-student of his, who died a few months after their marriage.

George was a young school teacher when he met Maggie Clark, who was then his pupil. Maggie and George fell in love and were later engaged. Maggie was not well, however, having contracted tuberculosis. During one of his fiancee's more serious periods of illness, George walked to a nearby hill, overlooking a mill, and composed the verse that provided the lyrics to his song.

On October 21, 1864, George and Maggie were married in Glanbrook, Ontario. It is also around this time that George's poetry book, Maple Leaves, was published. It included his poem "When You And I Were Young, Maggie."

Unfortunately, Maggie's health deteriorated and she died on May 12, 1865, as a result of typhus fever. She was buried in White Church Cemetery.

The following year, George worked with his friend J.C. Butterfield and set "When You and I Were Young, Maggie" to music. It was first sung by Maggie's sister Elizabeth, and eventually became a popular song all over the world.
I wandered today to the hills, Maggie,
To watch the scene below
The creek and the creaking old mill, Maggie,
As we used to long long ago
The green grove is gone from the hills, Maggie,
Where first the daisies sprung
The creaking old mill is still, Maggie,
Since you and I were young. Oh they say that I'm feeble with age, Maggie,
My steps are much slower than then
My face is a well written page, Maggie,
And time all alone was the pen
They say we have outlived our time, Maggie,
As dated as songs that we've sung
But to me you're as fair as you were, Maggie,
When you and I were young.

I went walking in the Cranbourne Botanic Garden yesterday avo. It was cool and windy, there had been rain the day before which had softened the leaves and everything.
Quite a delightful place on such a day, and the company was great, I am guilty of liking my own company for short periods of time!
As I made my way up to the high vantage point called Trig point,(up there between the tree in picture), I saw lots of things, Bandicoots, birds, wallabies, wombat tracks, trees!
The photo below would say different things to different people.
The Sentimental Bloke would be likely to be sad and say , "It was all so lovely before the fire.
A practical, cynical person might conclude that one of the trees escaped the fire only to be blown over, out of hand, by an ill wind.
An old man like me, looking forward to heaven, or the new earth, or heaven on earth, might look forward to the transformation and new life, depicted by the Australian bush.
If the earth is to be destroyed by fire, (2 Pet 3:12) we shall look forward to seeing and being part of the new heaven and new earth

As I had a break from writing this blog, I rose, looked out of my window, and Lo, there was a garden party right on my own front lawn. The picture is not good, as I had to take it furtively between the slats of the venetian blind.
There were about 20 shiny Starlings, two Blackbirds, two Indian Miners and a few Sparrows. The Starlings were feasting, the Blackbirds were watching, aloof, the Sparrows fluttering around wondering if they were missing anything, and the Indian Miners strutting pompously. A bit like people I thought!

"I am not mad most noble Festus"

2007-04-17T14:54:00.000+10:00

On Sunday I had the opportunity to go with my eldest son, Mark, to Boort where he was to speak. While he was doing this, I disappeared out into the Towaninnie plains for about 3 hours and found my way to my mother's grave.
Here is a photo of her grave alongside that of her only brother.
It is sort of "out there"

I remember standing by this open grave as a 6 year old boy. The farmers had placed some lovely sheaves of oats over the coffin before taking it in turns to shovel the earth back over it.
I've been on my own journey since that sad day and have come to the understanding that God is going to raise the dead from their graves on one great day.
It's more than a little possible that some reading this will say, "He's a little mad"
Get hold of a bible, (God's got a book out), and read in the New Testament the 26th chapter of the book of Acts. When Paul spoke about God raising the dead, Festus got very agitated and said, "Paul, much learning has made you mad".
No wonder I'm excited.
Another photo of the same place showing me being excited!

I believe in yesterday

2007-03-22T13:53:00.000+11:00

Like I've said before, "Nostalgia aint what it used to be"
Unlike the "Genealogy Gene' which seems to kick in at about 60 years of age, the "Nostalgia Gene" seems to be active in all people over the age of about 20.
It seems strange to hear people laughing about the nineties, what they did and what they wore, while to me it seems like just yesterday.
Have you stopped to consider that how you wear your hair (I,m not speaking to the people with very little), or what you are wearing will be viewed with great hilarity by a future generation, or possibly even by your own good self in days to come?
As far back as I can remember there has always been a yesterday,and even more startling is the fact that it is always "NOW"? This can be a scary thought because the future is always unknown. It might be even scarier if it was known!!
Life seems a little like a video tape, just rolling on. There are a couple of big differences , with life there is no pause button, there is no fast forward button, nor is there a replay button. The remarkable thing is that we all have memories of the past, fading though they may be.
You may well be asking yourselves, "What has set him off on this"?
Well, on the first day of March I was able to pay a visit to the heritage Park at Moe Victoria. I had driven past on countless occasions thinking, "I must go in there one day". On this day my number one son, Mark had an engagement at Moe so I went along for the ride and got off at the Heritage Park.
There were several pluses, It was a free ride, it was inexpensive to enter and buy food, the people there were very nice "country people", the museum was great and so was Mark's company.
Why do country people in general seem so much nicer than their city cousins?
I have put a few pictures on here with some comments

There is an old song we used to sing, "The wheel of the wagon is broken, and it aint gunna turn no more" This is certainly true of this one. My Grandfather's brother set off for Queensland with his horses and wagon transporting something or other. When he returned home his wagon wheels were worn out, which probably took the gloss off any profit made.

This was the nearest thing to the buggy we went to school in, but ours wasn't quite so fancy. In the early days, being the youngest, my seat was in that back bit.

This class room catered for grades one to eight in the one room. The Quambatook Sate School, being a much bigger school, had grades five to eight in the one room.
The ink wells were place one in the centre and the other on the right hand side. Students who showed a propensity for left handedness were dissuaded from showing such a propensity. If that failed as it probably always did, they must have sat on the right hand side of the desk, as there were two students to each desk. When the teacher really wanted to punish me and make me feel great shame, she would place me alongside a girl. shudder!

The "Smithy" (Black Smith Shop) smelt just like our one and countless others.
All sorts of tongs, hand turned drills, dirt floor. Every small town had a Black Smith Shop, and any farm worth it's salt.

There were quite a few "Period Phones" on display. This was the model we had. We were on a party line, a line of three in our case. Each had it's distinctive series of rings. Our number was Quambatook 25S, so the Morse code for "S" which is Dot Dot Dot was three short rings repeated a few times. The news starved farmer's wives would sometimes very very quietly lift the phone on another call and listen in!

These are different petrol bowsers, not all outside one garage of course. The petrol, or Gasoline, was hand pumped up to the marks on the glass bowl, and then siphoned into the tank of the car, or truck, or Motor Bike

The old "Sand Stones" were rarely as round as they were when new. It usually meant that one person turned the wheel and poured on a bit of water while the other did the "grinding" with the job going in and out as did the wheel circumference!

The old "Furphy" water tank has become famous. A descendant of Mr. Furphy used to take us boys on outings sometimes. We would go off with the warnings of our Aunty Lil ringing in our ears, "Watch him"!
Well, I guess that's enough "nostalgia" to last you for some time, but like Arny, "Ill be back"

Far Side of the World

2007-03-21T15:12:00.000+11:00

This is port Arthur Tasmania. Always infamous but even more so in recent years because a man with a gun shot lots of people indiscriminately, 35 actually ,for which he, Martyn Bryant, received 35 life sentences without parole in the Risdon prison.
Perhaps it might have been apt to put him away in one of the dark cells at Port Arthur itself!
Britain had sent some 50,000 convicts to the Americas up till the war of Independence took precedence. Convicts were then sent over a period of time to Australia and van Demen's Land (Tasmania). They did tbis because their jails were overflowing. Tasmania received about 75,000 such, sounds like a lot!
All of the Holts made the claim that they came a "Paying Passengers" although I do see one Holt on the list, a female, for stealing a few Lbs of cheese.
If every one in Australia was locked up, that the general public seems to think should be, we might have to transport a few. The UK might be high on the list of preferences.

An early explorer (sailor) said that he saw giant trees which must have been there since the beginning of time. This particular tree has the first branch at about 36 metres up the trunk, the tree went a long way higher than that, approaching 100 metres.
There are not only high trees in Tasmania but also old sheds. This one has to be right up there

All in all Bruny Island would be a great place to drop out, but be warned, a lot of Ozzies are already there grabbing the prime spots, but it may not be yet, too late!
Here is one of the edges of Bruny Islands many many kilometers of coast line, there are many more spectacular than this but I thought this bit fascinating.
In case you are wondering where to find such a place, it is on the southern tip of Australia

(At the bottom of Tasmania)

Another trip around the sun

2007-02-13T15:19:00.000+11:00

Corryong days are now just a memory and we are already well into February.
As always, life goes on,(While you are still breathing anyway). There have been wedding anniversarys to celebrate, weddings to attend etcetera etcetera and today I got reversing sensors put on our little Toyota as a birthday present.
Our Grand daughter Ali has been for a visit and I believe she is still telling her friends how exciting it was to spend a few days with Grandma and Grandad

Of course, as could be expected, the pace left her quite tuckered out.
Some of the exciting things that happen at our place on a daily basis are Sodokus and crosswords. For grandma the constant budget revision, and for me the challenge of Free Cell. As you can see, if you understand Free Cell at all, I have a pretty good record, although I do confess to shutting the computer down and going to bed if it is going particularly badly

Sometimes, as I have said we do puzzles, sometimes we sit and think and at other times we just sit. Some of this sitting is done on our back patio in the swinging settee that is just visible.
The next bird to use my stunning new bird house (among the flowers), will be the first

And just today wed rove past 4 Mulgoa Ave and behold, they are in the process of rendering it., and to think that I heard some guy on the radio singing "Nothing ever changes, everything just stays the same">. And just look at my Clematis climbing right up to the eaves at my bidding, never done that before hey.

Corryong

2007-01-17T17:51:00.000+11:00

Corryong is famous for at least two things, 1. It is the home town of the man from the Snowy River of Banjo Patterson fame, Jack Riley.
2.It is also the home town of the Colac Colac Camping Ground attended almost annually by the Clan Holt

This year was no exception, most of us attended and the above picture is one that could well have the caption "A picture is worth a thousand words"

There were many books read, many words spoken, many thoughts inspired and many plots hatched in the dark corners of the camp.

These "plots" were concocted by two errant Grand Daughters who were trying to take advantage of their Grandfather's approaching senility.

I am happy to report that all their efforts only served to enhance the standing of the said Grandfather in the clan and add to the esteem in which he is held as a model of patience and goodness.

Written by the Grandfather.

PS

For the first time after many years of camping Grandma and I stayed in an airconditioned cabin, and I have to say, We should have done it years ago.

And the Colac Colac Camping ground was excellent after the many improvements made by the new management, but don't tell anyone or we will have the whole of victoria turning up there.

The sunburned country

2006-12-18T17:37:00.000+11:00

MY COUNTRY
Dorothea McKellar

The love of field and coppice, of green and shaded lanes,
Of ordered woods and gardens is running in your veins.
Strong love of grey-blue distance, brown streams and soft, dim skies-
I know but cannot share it, my love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country, a land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges, of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons, I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror- the wide brown land for me!

The stark white ring-barked forests, all tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains, the hot gold hush of noon,
Green tangle of the brushes where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree-tops, and ferns the warm dark soil.

Core of my heart, my country! Her pitiless blue sky,
When, sick at heart, around us we see the cattle die -
But then the grey clouds gather, and we can bless again
The drumming of an army, the steady soaking rain.

Core of my heart, my country! Land of the rainbow gold,
For flood and fire and famine she pays us back threefold.
Over the thirsty paddocks, watch, after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness that thickens as we gaze.

An opal-hearted country, a wilful, lavish land -
All you who have not loved her, you will not understand -
Though earth holds many splendours, wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country my homing thoughts will fly.

We used to see clouds. It is not Christmas yet but the drought is really biting.
Of course we city folk hardly know that we're alive, we just worry about our poor little gardens.
It's not like that at all for the people on the land, it is heart breaking.
There are so many fires around our state that the sun is an eerie red some days from the smoke filled sky.

Before Australia became so urbanised, they had a song that went like this
"Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and smile, smile, smile,..."
I guess the country people will still do that.
As my old Dad used to say, "Don, the apples will grow again"
Good Stuff!

Gas Light Market

2006-12-08T20:50:00.000+11:00

We are only 8 days into summer and it is about 9pm.
It's a hot night and the air is slightly acrid with the smell of the fires already blazing in Victoria, our state.
On a lighter note, before talking more about the fires, here are some photos taken on Wednesday evening at the Queen Victoria Market. The inner Melbourne Holt's were out
in force, we were early to avoid the long queues at the various food stalls.

Large parts of Australia are in the grip of serious drought and our "backyard" is threatened with the most serious bushfires since Black Friday 1939.
Several fires started by lightning strikes and other fires lit by the ubiquitous nutters who take advantage of the conditions to light even more, have joined up into a massive fire front. It is expected to be hot for the next two days and if the wind gets up as well a lot of people in Victoria are going too be in a lot of trouble.
I can still remember a preacher using the Black Fridays fires to illustrate his sermon. H e said something like this, "A little group of timber cutters, who were helping fight the terrible fires on that day were suddenly caught in a wind change. The monstrous fire tuned and roared like an express train toward the men. There appeared to be no hope for them whatsoever. The fire roared around them, and miraculously swept on passed them, and they were still alive.
How had this happened? The men were fortunate to find themselves on a spot where the fire had already burned". The preacher went on to say that when Jesus Christ was on the cruel cross, the fires of God's judgment for sin fell on Him, the only one who had never sinned. When we receive Christ as our own Saviour, we are "In Christ"
We are in a place where the fire has already burned, and we are saved.
That's the exact place where I am and want to be, "In Christ"

Seeing the goodness of The lord in the land of the living

2006-11-13T11:00:00.000+11:00

My eldest brother Bill, (William David Holt) was born at Nyah West Victoria on the 21st of January 1922. Except for a stint in the AIF, (1941-1946) during WW2, he spent his life on a farm. It was very sad for us all when this farm life came to an end in about 1988 when he suffered a severe stroke. For the next 9 years until his death in 1997 he was confined to a wheel chair and hospital, unable to walk or even speak.
Bill was firstly an Evangelical Christian who loved The Lord.
Secondly he was a loving husband to Audrey, and loving father to his six children.
Thirdly, he was a very good farmer who loved the land, the sheep and the cattle, his dogs and even the pigs.
The stroke that he suffered and the results of it were hard for the family to come to terms with, but Bill, (and Audrey) had taught them all well that Christians do not grieve as those who have no hope. 1 Thess 4:13 .

Well, there's been a lot of water gone under the bridge since the photo below was taken. Audrey has grown old gracefully and all the children have grown up.
The oldest boy, David, must have been somewhere else on this occasion.

Now, of course, the family is much larger, as there are sons and daughters in law and the resulting Grandchildren. On Sunday afternoon we were privileged to be amongst them as they gathered at Robin and Roger's place to celebrate the homecoming of one of the Grandchildren.

Of course, as one does on such an occasion as this, I found myself thinking,"Wouldn't it be great if Bill was here to see this".
The the reality dawns on me that he is probably saying, "Wouldn't it be great if they were all here to see this"!
What is good to see is that there are more than one or two pianists in the family.
Below, Amy, is seated at the piano, and she's pretty good!
I remember the end of the film, Dr Zhivago the great movie from 1965, when an Uncle (Alec Guiness) asked the Doctor Zhivago's daughter if she played the mandolin or Balilika she was carrying.
The young man with her replied with words to the effect, "yes she does, and she's brilliant" The General (Uncle) cried out as they left, "It's a gift". A great moment!

My mother, "Elfie" who died in 1937 when I was just 6 years of age was a great pianist, and again I found myself thinking, "Wouldn't my mother love to be here"?
I would probably be closer to the mark if I said, "Wouldn't I like my mother to be here to see and hear this"!

What makes this family, your family, so special you may well ask.
I realise that every family has hopes, dreams, pleasure, poignancy. Every family has its stories, its dreams. What makes all the difference is whether the family has hope, and the only one I know who gives real hope is the Lord Jesus Christ.
I read many years ago that Winston Churchill sought out the then young Billy Graham. He asked Billy Graham, "Young man, do you see any hope"?
Billy Graham was able to tell him that the only hope is in Jesus Christ.
I read just this last week, that as Winston Churchill lay dying, he said,"There is no hope"! how sad.
What we all need to do, and can do, is to ask for and receive God's forgiveness for our sin and unbelief, and then commit our life to Him in trust.
You will then have eternal life granted to you, and you will be able to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

God Botherers Inc

2006-10-31T14:08:00.000+11:00

Reading from one of my old Dad's diarys I saw on a November page, "As you go through life take time to smell the roses". Years later his quote is still making sense, especially to a very busy retiree!
I had just finished a book shelf type cabinet for Yooralla and there were two things I just could not find, a fourth packet of plastic shelf supports and a vernier.
I did what I normally do, I told God that I could not find them, as I had the idea that He knew where both things were. To do my part, I started to clean up the shed. In due course this was done but still no missing things were being pointed out to me.
As I went back inside I was thinking , perhaps He is busy running the universe, perhaps the things will turn up later, perhaps I should have consulted St Anthony, perhaps it doesn't matter much any way.
As I went to go in the back door I spotted two card board boxes sitting on the BBQ, waiting to be torn up to go in to the recycling bin. As I picked up the boxes and began to tear them up, LO and Behold, in one of them was the fourth packet of shelf supports. I went into the garage to the recycle bin to put the cardboard in, and as I raised the lid, the back of my hand came against something on a shelf above, something covered with dust, Lo and Behold it was the vernier.
I know that some readers will think, "A God botherer indeed".
I read just last week a claim made by a star gazer , it went like this, "There are as more suns in the universe that there are grains of sand on all the beaches in this world.
Old Bildad was telling Job off in Job 26 and after talking about the glories of what God had made he went on to say, "But these things are only hints of His power, only the whispers of what we have heard. Who can know how truly great God is"?
Another translation says, "These are only the edges of His ways". (I like that one)
Call me a God botherer if you like, but it is well worth your while to try Him out.
"Seek and you shall find" said Jesus and Isaiah 55;6 says "Seek the Lord while he may be found".
It is much more important to find Him than it is to find some temporal possession.
Tell Him you really want to find Him. See what happens.
Here is a picture of the trifles that I was looking for

Back in the back yard

2006-10-10T17:12:00.000+10:00

We are in the grip of a drought, but the springtime is lovely
Today we went over to Olinda again for another picnic.
What a beautiful back yard we have.
Even the natives were friendly.
Here are the Australian Kookaburras, the jokers of the bush.
Only the best of our lunch was good enough, they didn't go for the potato crisps!

It's a bit of a worry to realize that this backyard could be ablaze this summer.
Way back in the 1940s, about a hundred and ten years ago, I grew up on a mallee farm. 10 inches of rain a year would have been wonderful, but we got practically none for a while and there were dust storms so black one could get lost in them.
My Dad used to pay good money for Inigo Jones's long range weather forecasts. I remember him telling me that at the turn of the century Inigo said there would be a 10 year drought. It looks like he was not far off the mark.
I would like to think that this is what is happening and that global warming is a product of the "alone in the universe mind", but who knows?
Any way, I am going to enjoy the bush while I may.

I have included here some of the words of Jesus, telling his disciples what to expect in the "last days" just in case this global warming thing is a reality:-
Luke's Gospel chapter 21.
And when ye shall see Jerusalem compassed with armies, then know that the desolation thereof is nigh. 21 Then let them which are in Judaea flee to the mountains; and let them which are in the midst of it depart out; and let not them that are in the countries enter thereinto. 22 For these be the days of vengeance, that all things which are written may be fulfilled. 23 But woe unto them that are with child, and to them that give suck, in those days! for there shall be great distress in the land, and wrath upon this people. 24 And they shall fall by the edge of the sword, and shall be led away captive into all nations: and Jerusalem shall be trodden down of the Gentiles, until the times of the Gentiles be fulfilled. 25 And there shall be signs in the sun, and in the moon, and in the stars; and upon the earth distress of nations, with perplexity; the sea and the waves roaring; 26 Men's hearts failing them for fear, and for looking after those things which are coming on the earth: for the powers of heaven shall be shaken. 27 And then shall they see the Son of man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. 28 And when these things begin to come to pass, then look up, and lift up your heads; for your redemption draweth nigh.

Distress of nations,comlexityy, the sea and the waves roaring,Israel.
Doesn't look so far fetched now does it?
Now North Korea have the bomb.
I,m just so grateful that I am a believer.
Visit my back yard, it will blow away the cobwebs.

Nostalgia is not what it used to be!

2006-10-02T12:15:00.000+10:00

What a nice week we had, Larry came from Hobart to attend a leaders conference and went home again Friday night. His bed here became vacant at that time as Greg and Sally arrived.
Larry took us to the back beach at Sorrento for lunch on Friday and on Saturday morning Greg and I went to the Monash University where there was a model exhibition. We had a great morning and why Peta Sue and Sally declined to come could only be comprehended by a female mind.

As soon as we entered we stopped at the Sherline exhibition of CNC machine tools
http://www.sher.com.au/
Greg got into a deep discussion with a man about the computerization of these machines, and as I was lost to most of the discussion my mind wandered around to thinking of the name Sherline. My mind went back to 1947 when I was the apprentice at the Red Point Tool Company in Prahran. This company was owned and ran by Mr. Sher.
Mr. Sher had a little son Ronnie, I remember little Ronnie coming in a time or two (about 5 years of age), holding tightly to his father's, (Mr. Sher's) hand. Over the years I had often wondered about little Ronnie, was he still alive? Did he follow in his father's footsteps?

As I waited for the deep discussion Greg and the man were having to conclude with the intention of asking the man if Sherline was in some way connected to The old Red Point Tool Company, I saw a little old man behind the counter with name tag that said "Ron Sher"
I asked him if he was the son of Mr Sher, and he replied, "I am indeed".
As I told who I was, his face lit up with surprise, as had mine.
We talked about the old factory and he was able to tell me about his journey as he followed in his father's footsteps.
I was very pleased, what a great thing to happen.
Yes, though nostalgia may not quite be what it used to be it is still alive and well in the human heart.

In the old photo above, I am the little apprentice sitting in the gutter.
Mr Sher is jut right of centre. The coloured photo below is of Ron (right) during his sojourn in America. The other Photo is of Mr. Sher himself!
I still remember all the people in the old photo with clarity. A young mind must be something like a sponge. I now have trouble remembering people I met a year or two ago, sometimes even yesterday!
Peta sue has just had a proof read and said, "We did lot more than that at the weekend". We went to Ben and Zoe's and watched the first half of the AFL (Australian Rules) Grand Final on a big screen along with lots of other "young" people, then we went to Paul's and watched the rest of the game, again on a big screen. The only downside was that the team I barracked for lost by one lousy point.
On Sunday morning we went to the Berwick vineyard Christian Church and afterwards to the home of our new Pastors Geoff and Jo Baker, for a dinner. We had good food and good fellowship. The good food consisted of Roast Beef and Yorkshire pudding followed Lemon Cheesecake made by their eldest son Timothy.
In the evening we watched the TV to see Brisbane down Melbourne in the NRL (Rugby) Grand Final. Again, not a good result.
Well, Winners are Grinners, but life is good.

http://www.adb.online.anu.edu.au/biogs/A160274b.htm

"Like a Walk in the Forest"

2006-09-09T04:12:00.000+10:00

Our home at Rowville has a beautiful backyard. It is called the Dandenong Ranges.
On Thursday morning we took a short drive up into the mists at Olinda to the National Rhododendron Gardens.
In 2004 we travelled half way round the world and at that time visited the Kew Gardens in London, beautiful. The garden at Olinda was equally so, "back in our own backyard".
The entrance is in a forest. As we entered,we looked up at the majestic, gun barrel straight gum trees where 6 or 8 Laughing Kookaburras burst into their frenzied laughter. It was a magic moment. To the early "white" arrivals to Australia, the laughter of these birds sounded like frenzied demons. To me it sounded almost heavenly.
It was a 7 degree Celsius nose dripping day and as we wandered through some of the kilometers of tracks, paved and unpaved I was reminded of John Denver's song, "You fill up my senses like a walk in the forest". We sat by the lake and opened our thermos of coffee and our home made meat pies. We had a wonderful time.
If you live in Melbourne, you must make a visit within the next 2 months, there is an entrance fee but it is well worth it.

I wished that I had taken my little binoculars as well as my camera because the birds were splendid, even the little brown jobs.
Some of the ones that I did see were Jacky winters, New Holland Honey Eaters, Yellow Tailed black Cockatoos, Long Billed Corellas, Galahs, Magpies etc etc. At one stage I descended down Lyre Bird Gully to see if I could see the lyre Bird that I was hearing only to find that the whip Bird crack was actually being made by the Whip Birds themselves!

On the way home Peta Sue spotted some firewood at Lysterfield, just a couple of kilometers from home. I went back immediately with the trailer as you have to be very quick. My day was complete, I just got my trailer filled in the nick of time so to speak, as two husky young fellas came in a Hi Lux Ute and threw in the wood that was 50 meters further up in seconds flat.

Every day is a gift from God
I suppose it is easy for me to say, living in health, comfort amidst such beauty.
The Apostle Paul had no such material comforts as I do, But he, being full of the Holy Spirit, was able to say, "I have learned in whatever state I am to be content".

Coffee To Go

2006-08-29T16:50:00.000+10:00

Not only do we have lights on Bergins Road, now we have a Muzz Buzz.
What was a little bush road through to Heany Park a few years ago now has cars coming through from all points East to get on to Stud road which is now called the Dandenong Valley Highway.
There was a diagonal strip of land running fro Bergins Road towards the lights on Wellington and Stud.
My wife insisted that the road would go across there making a 5 way corner at said lights. I said, "I'll bet you $100 that doesn't happen" She said "Your on".
With the Muzz Buzz placed right in the hi diddle diddle of that diagonal "road", one would have to assume that I had won the bet. I haven't seen the $100 yet!

All right all right, you want to know what a Muzz Buzz is. A menu pictured below will tell all.

I can't see that I will become a regular customer because the Muzz Buzz is so close to my abode I will either be just leaving home all coffee'd up, or nearly home again within reach of a coffee that will be a lot cheaper than the menu says

A Free Lunch

2006-08-27T19:41:00.000+10:00

On Thursday afternoon we met Nathaniel and Alese at Central Station, Simon and Brenda had to speak at a conference in Sydney so we were baby sitting for the weekend.
On Saturday we drove around King's Way to see Mark Val and Caleb, just a few minutes in the car. We decided to walk down into South Melbourne. We set off down Bank Street and had only gone 100 metres or so when we came upon a long row of Mini Coopers. We learned that the car yard was doing a promotion and if we stopped there was a free lunch. There was games for the kids and food for me, what more could we ask
Nathaniel won a DVD player for finding fluffy Dice under the front wheel of the rows of BMWs. I was still looking for fluffy ducks! When Nathaniel came screaming out from the cars saying "I have found the fluffy dice. They had a winner

Then it was Mark's turn, he blitzed the field of people carrying balls between their upper legs and depositing them in a receptacle and won an I Pod, which he passed on to his son Caleb. He didn't go so well himself as he was wearing those pants the young fellas wear with the crotches of the pants being somewhere between his knees and his ankles. He went of and had a little dream about owning a Mini Cooper, see photo.
After a couple of hours of this we all returned back to Mark and Val's place, just back down the street with tummies full of food and our arms full of prizes and give aways. Now that's what I call serendipity, and we still had our money safely in our pockets

We returned home Saturday night in time to watch "The Bill" and I was able to catch up on some sleep before preaching at the Vineyard this morning (Sunday).
I spent Sunday avo feeling emotionally drained, must be the water.

"Stone the Crows"

2006-08-23T17:23:00.000+10:00

Today I spotted a crow at my woodheap. I was wondering what he was doing and then he flew off, towards me and over the house with one of my sticks in his beak, the blighter. Later on there was a commotion out there and I could hear three or four of them in the pines above my wood. This was too much, I mean there are plenty of other sticks about without taking my supply. Like I said in a blog a couple of weeks ago, the birds are getting twitchy, now so am I.
I'm sure gentle reader, that you would be interested to know that there are about 6 types of crows in Australia, actually three ravens and three crows. Up in the Mallee there were lots of little crows and Australian Ravens, the Raven has hackles on his throat I guess you've heard the expression "getting his hackles up"
I think my woodheap raiders are the Little Raven, but it would take a better eye than mine to be sure. They are supposed to be clever birds, I know that they knew the difference between a broomstick and a shotgun when I was a lad. I believe they are one of the few birds who can use a twig to get a grub out of a log, and until they are at least three years of age they do not really learn this skill.
I did mention in my other blog entry that they are black, on the outside anyway, and because of that not to be trusted
Remember Noah's Raven did not come back, but the (white) dove did.
Did not the baddies in the old Westerns wear black hats and the goodies white ones, and large.? I was appalled to look up on the internet to see that Hopalong Cassidy wore a black hat, but Gene Autry hat was white and large.
Then discovered that the early Hopalong Cassidy of the Bar 20 Ranch started off being a grumpy and uncultured oaf, my premise stands
If Bar 20 days are too long ago for you, let me remind you that Darth Siddeous Darth Vader and Darth Maul all had dark head coverings and their light sabres were not the same colours the Jeddi Knights

I am talking about Adoni Bezek at the Vineyard on Sunday . He turns up in Judges chapter one and definitely made his attempt of escape on a large black stallion and wearing a black hat. (not the horse)
Adoni Bezek means Lord of lightning.
In Luke 10:18 Jesus talked to the other 70 about the real Lord of Lightning
who not only deceives individuals but the nations, and they all ride off on "The White Horse" to conquer!
How can this be? Well, the second, and real Lord of Lightning wears a black hat, but it is reversible, he turns it inside out and lo, Its a white hat.
Well, back to my message, I think it needs some work. Have a good weekend

Time and Place

2006-08-21T14:28:00.000+10:00

I notice that there is a new fence at 4 Mulgoa. The brick fence built in 1963 is no more but that's not important, the important thing is that the little guys in the 63 photo are bigger nad better than ever. I think an enlargement would show that they are Paul and Simon.
The triple fronted house changed in about 1970 when we added a room on the garage side

Ive selected a few photos out of dozens to show some of the changes.
I often think when driving in the country, and see the ruins of an old house, "Some people spent their life in that place", and I am moved.

Twitchers Awake!

2006-08-08T11:05:00.000+10:00

"It's Time"
For politics says Gough Whitlam
For twitching says the birdwatchers
August has started and before you realize it the birds will be getting twitchy.
The urge to build nests will become a driving force.
How many times have I come in on the tail end of things due to some sort of unawareness both in the natural and the spiritual realm.
Like the girl in the song below, I sometimes miss the moment.
Song of Songs (Which is Solomon's)
The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills. My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, showing himself through the lattice. My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

As I read through this song from time to time I see the girl missing special moments for one reason or another

My blogging has been interrupted by some visitors bearing wattle. I think it was one of those moments.
For every day that I am free, every day I have food on my table, every day I live in peace, every day that I am well I am thankful.

Now , something about those birds
Jesus said, "Look at the crows, they don't plant seeds, or gather a harvest, they don't have store rooms or barns, God feeds them and you are worth so much more than the birds".
Someone else has said "Birds of a feather flock together"

Here are three really common Australian birds, The magpie, Willy Wagtail and Mudlark.
They either like each others company or are attracted to the same areas.
You will often find a Willy wagtail's and a Mudlark's nest in the same tree.
You will notice that they are all in the black and white army.
One day while traveling to school in the horse and buggy I noticed two willy wagtails attacking a crow, they had the crow down on his back and were really giving him what for and no way could he get the right way up.
Maybe it was because he did not have any white on him.
Not too much different to some people!

My Dad,(concluding remarks)? Maybe!

2006-07-27T11:57:00.000+10:00

This was c1970, another birthday for my Dad.

What was my Dad really like?
To me at 10 years of age, a hero,
To me at 20 years of age, Too cautious, too careful with money, but still a bit of a hero
To me at 30 years of age, A great encouragement and a fund of knowledge. Always good to have around in any crisis.
To me me from 30 years of age to 50, all of the above, a great gardener, a spotless well serviced car and home with everything in working order, a father and a friend.
To me at 75 years of age, a good memory.
Though he has been gone for 25 years, I still thank God for him whenever I think of him, and the amazing thing, he still appears in my dreams at times, and I think that is wonderful.
I myself have felt the joys of fatherhood along with the responsibilities and some times frustration which has brought me to a greater understanding of my own father.
I have 6 sons, 5 of which are fathers themselves and for the 6th one the chapter is not finished by a long shot.
This morning while contemplating this blog with my mind wandering around "Fatherhood" I have been thinking of various kinds of fathers, some that came to mind
Forefathers, the church fathers, delinquent fathers, ex fathers, Sperm Doner fathers! offending fathers, non biological fathers and so the list could go on.
I also found myself wondering about Germany, The Fatherland, Mother Russia, and Mother England
Then there are the sins of the fathers and the faith of the fathers.
What a great gift is the mind and the memory.
Of course I would have to mention the Fatherhood of God.
I've also been reading about Father's Day, the 3rd Sunday in June in many countries, some hold it in November, while here in Australia it his held on the first Sunday in September.
I heard some wag say that father's day was nine months before mother's day, he may not have enjoyed a really healthy sex life!
On that note I shall return to my cogitations

My Dad (not)

2006-07-18T13:11:00.000+10:00

I have just been out the back clearing much of my vast,(according to Ben), firewood supply from the side back fence in order to stall off its demise with some repairs. The boys next door are very sporty and their various types of balls come over so often I've told Them just to climb over the fence and get them, the results of this of course is that the fences threatening demise is being somewhat hastened.

While this is a Claytons Blog about my Dad, I can't help mentioning him again as he was a great fencing man. Being a pioneer mallee farmer he had to build and maintain literally miles of fences

Many times I heard him say "Good fences make good neighbours"
I am not sure that when I say "truth is a slippery thing" I am right or not. Perhaps I should be saying "Truth is a immovable rock".
What a dilemma
It may be true to say, when speaking about the millions of western world suburbia that good fences make ghostly neighbours, unknown neighbours, aloof neighbours.
I have just walked a few yards down to our corner and taken a photo in each direction

And you may note that I haven't even mentioned the "Gated Communities" that are springing up every where

Here is a nice little fence in the Cottswolds UK

Every Boy Needs A Dad

2006-07-06T10:58:00.000+10:00

Perhaps one can only watch this space for so long.
Now, My Dad
My Dad was special, probably more so for me as,
1. My mum died when I was just 6 years of age and his role in my life became more important that ever.
2. The isolation of life on a mallee farm brought those around you into a sharper focus and into a position of greater dependency on one another.
3. He was just great.
Here is a rare photo of Lu Lu Burgess, the house keeper, my Dad in his Sunday best, and my sister Lorna

My Dad had big hands, as a child I loved to climb on his knee and examine his large work scarred hands before looking once again at his familiar tin of log Cabin Tobacco

I still remember the old familiar sound as he rattled round with the stove in the kitchen, getting the fire going while I lay in bed on a frosty morning thinking that I would get up when the fire was well alight.
Our stove was not as flash as the one in the picture nor did it have tiles around it

He used to cook soup with everything in it and said that after a couple of days it would become stew. I think that the "cooking gene" in our family must have come from my wife's side, however I thought what he cooked was pretty good, then again he was good at so many things was a superb shooter, a great driver, a fixer of thing par excellence, and a wonderful presence in a crisis.
The funny thing was that my older brothers and sister couldn't really see it. I still smart about their sniggers and and smart little comments out of his hearing.
Of course I now know what I only suspected at that time, that their frontal lobes had not at that time fully developed.
Just one story at this time will speak volumes.
I was standing on a dam bank with my brother Murray, and my Dad. Dad was holding a rifle in his hand, and in the distance, far across a mallee paddock the dust was being kicked up by some of our dogs pursuing a very fleet of foot hare, the hare was about 3 chain in the lead. It was time for a lesson. Dad explained to us that to shoot this hare one would need to elevate the rifle to point about one chain above the hare, and considering the slight breeze, the speed of the hare, and the distance to cover one would have to lead the hare with the rifle by about 2 chain. (The exact distances have faded from my memory). The lesson having been given, my Dad lay down on the dam bank to demonstrate, he took careful aim allowing for all the earlier calculations and fired. It seemed to be a matter of seconds had passed, when, behold, the hare bowled over and over on the ground in the distance and laid very still. My chest swelled with pride, Murray was wide eyed, and my dad a little surprised.
I was not at all surprised, my mind went back to a marauding goanna that was stealing our chooks eggs, had not my dad shot him through the heart as he ran at high speed in a cloud of dust over the bare mallee earth.
That's my Dad, and there's more!

MY DAD

2006-06-27T09:41:00.000+10:00

By popular request I return to the keyboard.
I can only tell you of things that you have probably heard ad nauseum, but I have decided that the world needs to hear how great was my Dad
Here is a morsel just to keep you reading

This is a photo of my Dad on the right, my Aunt Ruby centre and Uncle wil on the left.
Our left of course, Uncle Wil being the first born. The photo would have been taken 1890/1900.
Grandfather William (their Dad) was converted to Jesus Christ and had become a staunch member of the Wesleyan Methodist Church at Towaninnie and was the Sunday School superintendent for nearly 40 years; as such, church attendance was the top of the list activity. My dad said that they went to church in a horse and buggy rain hail or shine, as the "roads" went through properties there were many gates. Grandfather William would sing out "Gate" and the boys, Wil and David, would have to jump out, open and shut each gate. The boys would have heard many sermons and many long awaited benedictions.
A paraphrase of Psalm 130 verse 6, for David, could well have been, "My soul waits for the "benediction" more than those who watch for the morning- I say, more than those who watch for the morning.
It could have been before Auntie Ruby was born,(or perhaps she didn't count), that my Dad, (David) had it all worked out, Grandfather William, was "The Father", His brother Wil, was "The son", and he David, was the "The Holy Spirit".
For the unchurched, most benedictions would include the words something like, "In the name of the Father, and of The Son, and of The Holy Ghost (Spirit).
Ahh, the working of the mind of a child.
This of course reminds me of what Jesus said recorded for us in Matthew 18:3, "Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the Kingdom of Heaven".

"MY DAD", watch this space!

There's a book out

2006-05-28T09:26:00.000+10:00

Denys Peek has a book out, "One fourteenth of an elephant" I have just read it and have come to the conclusion that everybody else should read it too!
At the start of the Second World war, Denys Peek was living as a civilian in Singapore, with his brother Ron and his parents. Like most other able bodied expatriates, he signed up as a volunteer to help in Singapore's defense. When Singapore fell, in February 1942, Denys and his brother became prisoners of war, interred with tens of thousands of other British, Australian and Commonwealth men.

Transported to Siam, Denys spent the next three years living in Japanese run labor camps, forced to work on the building of the Burma-Thailand Railway.

In appalling conditions these men fought to keep both bodies and spirits alive, whilst enduring harsh and unreasonable work expectations, limited food rations, no sanitation, and the dismal prospect of never seeing their families or their countries again.

Over 20,000 men died in the construction of the railway. Many times during his three year ordeal Peek faced the prospect of joining their ranks. Miraculously, he survived, spurred on by a stubborn refusal to die, the bond he shared with his brother and his mates, and, at times, by psychic happenings that defied explanation.

In One Fourteenth of an Elephant, Peek shares his story with an intimacy and openness that stirs deep feelings in the heart of the reader. Writing in present tense, he recounts events as they happened, taking the reader with him on his daily quest for survival.

This is a book which reveals horrific suffering, events and brutality that almost defy belief - yet it is not a depressing story. Peek's own survival and the courage and humanity showed by his fellow prisoners are an incredible demonstration of just how people can triumph over the strongest adversity.

GOD HAS A BOOK OUT ALSO

I have been reading and re reading it on and off for over 60 years and long ago came to the conclusion that it is the greatest of all books. In fact it is really sixty six books mostly written by or about ordinary people often in extraordinary situations.
It amazes me just how God did it; He let the writers personalities come through and some of there opinions, some of it is poetry (not my sort of poetry), some songs, some eye witness accounts, some history, some even prophetic and of course the words and actions of Jesus Christ, the Messiah are recorded, some by eye witnesses.

John, one of Jesus' disciples, writing as an older man pens these words in conclusion,
"And there also are many other things that Jesus did, which, if they were written one by one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that would be written. John says in another place, just a chapter before these words,
"And truly Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book; but these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in his name.

Thinking again of Denys Peek and his companions terrible deprivation and suffering, I was saddened to read about how, the God of the bible was irrelevant to him in those desperate days.
I can understand the difficulty he would feel about forgiving and unrepentant enemy, and as I understand it even God's foregiveness to guilty sinners depends on their repentance.
In my mind there are few people who could really understand what these POW's went through on the Burma Railway, I myself would have little idea.
I do believe though that one who could understand better that any other would be the suffering Christ of the bible. He went to the place of blood and spit, he suffered unjustly and was treated cruelly and shamefully.
I think that people that find themselves in Denys Peek's shoes, when it comes to understanding, forgiveness etc, could let Jesus Christ do for them the things they are unable to do for themselves.
God bless you Denys, and the thousands and thousands who are suffering all around the world even as I write, especially in the so called third world.
The battle is not over yet, it is hotting up though, and the only book I have ever read that has the answer to these things is found in God's book that he has out, and in His Son.
"Maranatha"
"Even So, Come Lord Jesus"

Cars (part three)

2006-05-25T10:02:00.000+10:00

Two comments on the blog have prompted this addition to “cars”
What about the Camira and the HD Holden?
In 1983 my wife came home and said, “I have just been looking at a wonderful little car and it’s only done 1800 Kilometers. I asked her what sort of car was it and she replied,” It’s a bronze Camira".
Now If I was ever to buy another 4 cylinder car I had promised myself it would be a Japanese job (A Japanese kidney), but what got me was the almost as new “mileage”.
Like a lamb to the slaughter I went to the car yard, my defenses were down, it was all but new.
I said to the man, I believe it’s only done 1800 Kilometers, and he said “that’s right”
When I had made the purchase and was driving the car home, I looked at the odometer more carefully and noticed there was an extra zero on the “mileage. How could a grown man be so dumb?
Anyway, it wasn’t the end of the world and as far as Camiras go the car was OK, but not as good as the Japanese counterparts.
Two things stick in my mind about the Camira the first, when you had the heater on you could have a direct little stream of cold air blowing on your face. I thought that was a great idea and yet I have never seen it on another car.
The second thing was when I collected Benjamin, my number six son from school and said come on. We are going up to Queensland where the rest of the family are. When we got past Goodiwindi we ran into flooded roads. Not to be thwarted we went back to Goonda and continued up about 100K what is now called the adventure highway and turned right again. We were”cooking with gas” so to speak, when we ran into more serious water over the road. Some opportunists were there with special vehicles towing people through the water to the other side; they were charging $30 a pop which was just not in my equation.
A man ahead of me in a high vehicle, said, “Follow me across, and if you get into trouble I will hook on and pull you through”. I was game for that, so off we went, the water got deeper and deeper and I began to have to gun the motor to keep it going, I think it had something to do with the exhaust pipe being well submerged rather that water around the electricals. The motor gave up the ghost and I had to crawl out the window to hook onto my hero in front. I was quite surprised when we were through to find that the engine burst into life first try. I would think that all of this is firmly entrenched in Ben’s memory. When we got to our destination
I had to pull all the thick synthetic sponge like, flooring out and dry it in the hot Queensland sun.

One notable car before that was a HD Holden, The model before this was the HR, which became an enthusiast car, very popular, the HD was at least as good but had futuristic shrouds on the headlights and nobody ever likes anything on a car that is to soon for their minds. The two faults with this car, was firstly that the previous owner, a lady, said that it ran out of water once and boiled. I had reason to think that some of the top rings had cracked. The second was that the automatic was a two speed powerglide, which worked well but increased the cars thirst for the liquid gold.
The great memory of this car was that we made quite a few trips to Sydney for holidays at Uncle Murray’s place. We would leave on the eve of my holidays and drive through the night with all the boys on a mattress in the back asleep most of the way, except for Gregory, number three son, who always seemed to be awake when there were reflecting “Cats eyes” to be seen on the centre of the road. Out of the darkness would come this little voice saying “Cats Eyes, Cats Eyes, Cats Eyes”.
I remember on at least one occasion lighting a fire at the side of the road, past Goulburn
and cooking sausages for breakfast.
These were days of high adventure, not only for the boys but for us as parents also.
It’s a funny thing about Greg, he was not adverse to excessive speeds and daring as an older teenager, but as a boy, when there was scenery for me, the driver, to see on high and twisty roads, Greg would be standing in the back, right behind my ear, saying, “You just watch the road dad”.
When he was about 13 I decided it was time for him to give him a bit of a drive and he took off like a racing driver and scared the wits out of me, more so as I discovered he could barely see over the steering wheel.
As I think about memories of cars, and trips in them, thousands of memories come flooding into my mind and I feel that I could go on ad infintum, (and perhaps ad nauseum),which all goes to show something of our love affair with the “car” over the last 100 years

Despite the ad nauseum I just can’t help adding a bit of a PS
Talking of resistance to change, especially sudden change, I remember the men in Quambatook looking at a new car, this car actually had a boot that was not unlike the bonnet or hood. They stood their in disbelief. Laughing and saying, “Which way is it going to go? Ha hah ha”
And when my dad bought a new 1949 standard vanguard , (which incidentally was built like a tank) a huge farmer, Harry James I think, went over to the car and hit the roof heavily three or four time with a fist like a ham saying, “It’s just a bit of tin”.

A few pictures of cars.
Murray's pride and joy, a new Vanguard Ute. He drove a bride to a wedding in it and someone wrote "Just Married" all over it with chalk, which is abrasive, Murray was not pleased when this could still be seen after cleaning writing off.
At Lake Merran with boys, and removing the motor for a replacement of clutch and rings etc on the farm.

Cars, part two

2006-05-22T12:59:00.000+10:00

Here is a photo of my Uncle Andy driving what is purported to have been the first car in the district, (district of Towaninnie that is) my late mother is seated in the back, she was the Bridesmaid at an early wedding.

Grandfather William Holt, who died in 1929 had a Buick and I suspect it was a 1924 model. His youngest son, Robert, was allowed to drive this car. This came as a surprise to my father David because when he asked for a loan of Grandfather William’s horse and rig, he was told that he would have to go out and get his own as he himself, (Grandfather William) had to do.

After World War 2 had ended and my brothers, Bill and Cyril had been demobilized from the Army, I had the task (it was no task to me but an adventure) of driving a 1928 Essex, Bill’s new purchase, up to his newly acquired dairy farm at Cohuna. All I clearly remember is that as I approached the dividing range, and after that the hills near Bendigo, the Essex kept boiling, with steam spurting out of the ornate radiator cap at the front of the car.

Some little time after that Cyril got married at Tatura ,and I was surprised to notice in one of his wedding photos, his Ford ex army truck is standing in the background, so I assume that he turned up for his wedding in the truck

He and Dorothy motored down to Lorne for their honeymoon, and it must have been in the 1928 Oakland that we used to drive up around Romsey. Cyril told me of this guy on a motor bike coming toward them, around one of those notorious bends so quickly and so wide that he, (cyril), had to put the Oakland right out on the cliff edge to miss him.
This was one of two strange events in Cyril’s life, because he was usually the perpetrator of such acts.
The second strange event was when Cyril was going home from work in his motor bike and side car when a drunken driver came around the corner at high speed and wiped Cyril out causing him to have a long stay in the Melbourne Hospital. The year was 1958/ 59 as I remember him being at the Billy Graham Crusade on a stick.

I also remember we were coming down “Pretty Sally” towards Wallan Wallan and Cyril wanted to see what sort of speed he could get out of it. I am not sure how fast we were going but I do remember that the windscreen was vibrating so badly that we could hardly see through it.
I had a few really good scares in that car and it always happened when Cyril was at the wheel. I remember on more that one occasion getting in the car really quickly so I could be the driver.

The last car that I will mention as being of any interest is a 1947 Dodge. My dad wanted me to get a little Standard Vanguard, but no, I wanted the Dodge, a real car with a chrome ram’s head on the front.
The only problem being that it must already have been around the clock at least once.
In an effort to get some oil pressure I spent hours underneath putting shims under all the bearings, it must have worked to a degree as I now had at least some oil pressure. Of course they don’t have oil pressure gauges on these new fangled cars but just a red light that comes on if the pressure drops or disappears.
Another thing that the new cars do not have is a crank handle, what an over sight!

Two events of some significance happened, )one just almost). Both involved our number two son Larry.
The first was the night that he was born. My wife, Peta had a 40 hour on off labour with our first son, Mark, so she said that this time she was not going to the hospital too soon and just hang around. I began to get a bit anxious and said that we had better get going, well, by this time she could not even walk out to the car.
As we approached the Ferntree Gully Hospital a steepish, twisty, unmade road Peta Sue demanded that I stop the car as the baby was coming. Never one to be indecisive, I planted my foot and the Dodge twisted up the hill like and angry snake. Within 5 minutes of our arrival Larry was protesting at his somewhat rude arrival into the world.
God must have had his hand on the little fella and today he is approaching 30 years in the ministry of Christ.
I say this because we were going to the Dandenong Market from Nar Nar Goon North, barrelling along the highway approaching Officer. There were no seat belts in those days and Larry was jumping up and down on the back seat with great exuberance, like being on a trampoline; anyway he went crooked, front wards and to the left and grabbed the door handle for support. The problem with the Dodge was that the back door opened from the front, the hinges being on the rear pillar, of course as it opened slightly the wind caught the door and he was thrown out on to the road, on the left fortunately as there were other cars following at speed. We stopped the car and ran back to him, he was crawling towards us crying, his two shoes together on the road about 20 or 30 yards from him.
He suffered a bump on the head and a broken leg!
He was three years old.

We have had several cars since those days; the cars haven’t got much character any more. It’s not unusual to drive a car for 10 years now and never even get a puncture. (who wants one ) It seems to me that when I was a boy flat tires were common place.

You know that you are getting old when you have trouble counting up how many cars you have had.

This is a photo of peta's father with his A Model Ford

A Relationship with the Car

2006-05-16T08:45:00.000+10:00

While it is true that in my young days we were more often than not found in a horse drawn vehicle, we always had a car because of our isolation and farming activities.
My earliest memories are of a “Tin Lizzie” truck and an about 1926 Dodge sedan
My Dad had put in some magic liquid metal into the Ford truck while it was hot to rejuvenate the motor.
This worked well until one of my older brothers, Cyril, took half the weekly slaughtered sheep to our nearest neighbours, the Hargreaves, who lived only a mile away if you cut through the paddocks, anyway, the truck ran low on water and boiled and the motor was rattling worse than ever when they returned. Father David was less than impressed.
I must have been very young when my dad backed the truck out of the shed and the back tyre went over the calf of one of my legs, I remember crying and my dad getting out quite alarmed, rubbing my leg and I suspect, checking for a break. It must have given my leg a good squeeze as there were little spots of blood squeezed out through the pores of my skin. This is not an actual picture of the truck, but it was similar but not as flash. A bit of a cross between the one above and the one below. I remember my job, when it was raining, was to manually turn the windscreen wipers by turning a little handle back and forwards.

The about 1926 model Dodge picture, below, is genuine. I remember that my dad was under this car doing something or other, and my mother had told me to come inside and I had failed to respond. She appeared with the strap! I escaped her ire by getting under the car with my dad, she couldn’t quite reach me. My dad was in a confined state and was unable to take sides, fortunately.
He was in this car, making a necessary trip via a flooded route. Of course the roads were unmade. With chains on the tires these old cars would go just about anywhere. The small kids, my older brothers, were in the car with him and I believe, all asleep. He was trying to avoid the shire dam which he knew was on the edge of the road near by, but just where the edge of the road was, how could he tell? He felt the car sliding downwards and stopped, any endeavour to move made the car slide further. What to do? He got out of the car and waded over to a fence top, and removing the top barbed wire, he took the free end and tied it onto a rear wheel of the old Dodge. With the other end of the wire still attached to a post he put the car into reverse and slowly winched the car back from the slippery slope.
The barbed wire had not only wound itself around the tire, but also around the axle. He said he had a frightful job removing the barbed wire from the rear of the car, with the water still up over the running boards.
All I can say is, “These pioneering people were different”
Here is a photo of this car, my brothers Bill and Cyril in the foreground and Murray on the running board.
Through the car you will see my father in a familiar pose, hat, watch chain, soldier’s badge, and rolling a cigarette.

The next car was a 1928 model Dodge, his pride and joy for a while. My mother was coming home from Quambatook with a large bag of sugar on the back seat, and at the corner of what is now called Holt Road she took the corner too fast and slid into a huge corner post. I have heard him say the car was never the same afterwards. I remember a trip to Mildura in it with mum and dad; mum’s only brother, Cyril Ellis was dying, or had died. It was a long way and I can only remember four things about the trip, 1. sitting on the floor in the front listening to the engine sing, 2. Going through a place called Red cliffs. 3 people swimming in a public pool, lots of them, and 4. Auntie Florrie giving me a little Fox terrier.
When another car went by our place, which was not a regular occurrence, it was duly observed and considered. On one particular occasion, my dad saw this car go by and was galvanized into action. He ran to the Dodge and quickly started it up, (At this point I also was galvanized into action and also jumped in to the car) Out of our property we hurtled to catch up with this car; it took us a whole mile to do so.
I remember watching the drum type speedometer rocking back and forwards between 40 and 70 MPH.
The conclusion of this chase was not at all exciting as my dad and the man he overtook talked on the side of the road for what seemed to me to be about three hours. Groan.
As I lay in bed this morning another memory returned to me about this car, my dad was taking quite a lot of sheep into Quambatook, driving them along the road, he often had to leave the car and see them all along, and I suppose stop them from going down some little side access. He would then walk back to the car and drive it up behind the sheep then get out and repeat the performance. I don’t know how old I was, but I know that I was no where near old enough to drive. I thought to myself, He’s a long way ahead; perhaps I could start the car and bring it up for him. I had never driven anything but I had been a keen observer of how it was done, so I switched on the ignition, (though I didn’t know at the time that it was called that), pressed the starter motor button, and lo, the engine burst into life. I had some difficulty depressing the clutch due to the shortness of my legs, I selected a gear, it must have been a low one by chance, the car leaped forward with a few hops before settling into an even pace, I drove the car right up to where my father was, and right behind him, and stopped it by depressing the clutch again. He seemed more surprised than pleased, and I could not fail to notice that the next time he got out for his little ritual, he took the keys with him.
Here is a picture of a new 1928 Dodge 4 cylinders of course.

I can still remember the day when my dad rolled into the farm, up the track, right up to the garden fence, he was driving a beautiful bronze coloured car, gleaming and sleek; it was a 1935 model Hudson Terraplane, with a beautiful chrome swift on the bonnet. I only realize after all these years that the name must have meant “Land Plane”. It was no later than early 1937 because my mother was still alive and I was just 6 years of age.
I remember that my mother was still alive because she expressed her disquiet by asking, “How could you go buy a car like that ? His reply was that it was quite OK, and when he had worn that one out he would go and get a better one! Of course I mentally agreed with him wholeheartedly, it was a wonderful car, and it had a large oval speedometer screen that registered up to 120 MPH!. A 6 year old would have little idea of the complicated workings of an adult mind. I think the car cost 200 pounds (sounds a lot), and I have heard my older sister say that he spent mum’s money; (probably left to her by her father). That may have had nothing to do with the car, but as you get older, you wonder. People say life was simpler in those days; I don’t think so. However, for a few years this car became a vital part of our lives. I remember that my father went out to look for us as we were coming home from school in a horse and buggy when a severe hail storm came upon us, the hail was quite large, at least like golf balls. We had been smart enough to come home the long way, (no trees) for fear of lightning strike. He had gone looking for us on our normal route. The car has an insert of something like vinyl material in the roof, not unlike a sun roof, and the hail had gone right through it.
On another occasion we were going to Swan Hill, about 40 miles of dirt road which wound its way through mallee scrub. We were going along at about 40 MPH when one of the tie rods dropped off, the car lurched three or four times, right and left, before it could be stopped, and we did not even hit one tree.

This photo of the Terraplane was taken at Lake Merran with Rita Burgess in foreground. On one occasion, Mrs Burgess, Rita's mother in law, was in Quambatook and decided to wait in the car(The Terraplane) The Williamson's, John Williamson's ancestors also had a Terraplane, same model and colour. When they returned to their car, there was Mrs Burgess sitting in it! An embarrassing mistake!

This picture shows the roof.

As I am writing this I realize it is getting somewhat long, so I intend to continue in installments, please try to restrain yourself in the wait for the next issue!

Special Occasions

2006-05-14T19:02:00.000+10:00

In November 2005 I have an entry about "The Mob", The Mob being our family.
There are so many special occasions, and over the years there have been so many, they begin to merge in the memory. I remember, the year was 1959, and Billy Graham had come to Melbourne for an "Evangelistic Crusade". At the time we were based in a Gippsland area at a place called Nar Nar Goon North, the Methodist church there was quite involved, we organised buses to Melbourne and worked hard at filling them with people to go and hear Billy Graham preach the Good News about Jesus Christ.
We were so busy, and I remember commenting on this busy-ness and some one relied, "When the Crusade is over things will quieten down".
I have often thought about this and then said quietly to myself, "Wrong"!
It never happened.
I would suppose there is a quiet place somewhere in an old people's home with the "Happy Valley" address. Even as I think about this I am drawn back to a conclusion I have arrived at many times, that being, "I have never seen an Old People's Home yet that I have liked!
They are probably very nice for the inmates, but for this little black duck,...... not yet!
You might be asking yourself, "What has brought all this on"? Well, just the last week or so, let me explain.
About a week ago I decided to clean out some of my junk to save the boy's later on, I started with the back shed, cleaning out the timber saved for something I can't remember, and as I applied myself to the task I kept noticing other tasks needing to be done, like fixing the side fence, pulling out a tree which was too close to the house, this took some days because there were four half days of stocktaking at a Hardware store, and four other cleaning appointments, as well as some extended jaunts to the shops. While all this was happening, the weekend was sneaking up on me.
Well, let me say we had a great weekend, it went like this:-
Saturday Morning we had a Missionary Breakfast. It was not the old fashioned type where the missionary was on the menu, but a 2006 style Missionary Breakfast.
Our Number one son, Mark was the speaker, and though I could be slightly biased, he was wonderful, and the breakfast of eggs and bacon were pretty good also.
We went into the Dandenong Capital Centre afterwards for a while.
At 2PM there was a special occasion in Little Lonsdale Street Melbourne.
Our number 8 granddaughter was celebrating her 11th birthday, here is a picture of the cake, I assume it was made by her dad

Mark and Val arrived, along with their two girls, they had travelled from their new address in South Melbourne by tram. Ben and Zoe came by car and Ali's friend Bridget was also there. Here are a few photos

Now Sunday was a special day, May 14, was Mother's Day.
At about 10.30am Ben picked us up in a Ford Territory, he dialled in or destination and along the way we were directed by this voice saying, you now take a left turn followed by a right turn and so on accompanied by a screen showing our position progress , distance still to travel and the time it would take us. I was waiting for the voice to say, "I am lost, you are on tour own", but no, we arrived at the Malvern Station exactly on time, 11am, and there were Simon, Brenda and their two children emerging from the shelter of the station as it had begun to sprinkle with rain.
We made our way down Glenferrie Road to the first place serving food that was not full of people, it was a "Brown's Bakery ". We enjoyed the good company and good food for about an hour before making our way back to our transport by the Malvern Station.
The Territory guided us safely back to Rowville some time after mid day.
Another record of our high life Style follows.

It was not long before it was time to head off to a place called Skye, where we were to meet Paul and Cindy for afternoon tea at the Sandhurst Golf Club House.
I must say it was something of a let down to get in our little Toyota Corolla and figure out our own way in the rain.
After our stint at the club house, Paul and Cindy showed us the town house on the complex that they are interested in.
Here we are in the club house

I will set myself a quiz, here goes

Would I rather be busy or bored?
Would I rather be busy or in jail?
Would I rather be busy or in Happy Valley Home?
Would I rather be busy or in hospital?

I've completed the quiz in no time and busy wins hands down

The Weekend Report

2006-05-01T11:06:00.000+10:00

On the last Saturday in April I hitched the trailer on the little Toyota Corolla and headed off to Warragul, to my number four son's place accompanied by my wife of 52 years, Peta Sue.
The Facia board at the front corner of the house was rotted out and the Starlings or Indian Miners had dragged in loads of grass for nesting.
One of the big problems in Australia is flora and fauna that have been brought here by people who should have known better. The list is huge but to name a few of the fauna, there are the Rabbits, foxes, cane toads, starling and Indian, Miners, (and cats!), BIG MISTAKE! The camels, horses, cows , sheep and dogs, I would exclude from my diatribe.
Paul, (number 4 son) was loathe to remove the guttering, and somehow (how I don't know) work behind it. My great wisdom acquired over many years mostly through many mistakes, prevailed, the guttering was removed, the old facia cut out and the new inserted; the guttering was replaced with much muttering,(guttering and muttering, that's good), the facia painted blue and behold, we have the result.

Flushed with our success, we decided to press on and replace the fibre glass on the pergola, (right edge of photo). This was achieved with the expenditure of much more energy and muttering that we expected, but the result was pretty good if I do say so myself.
That evening Paul rang a Restaurant in Drouin (Warragul and Drouin are sort of twin towns) This Restaurant was called something like The Durante, they said we could not come until 7:30.
My first three choices for a main meal were met with a nice smile from the waitress as she said, I'm sorry, we've just run out of that, so I settled for some sort of curried chicken which sounded something like Rumbatum. It was really very nice, but came back to haunt me in the small hours of the morning.
I notice Paul's bill was over $200 for the four of us and left me wondering as I always do on an eating out occasion, "how many groceries could I buy for that much money"? (Probably because I grew up in a previous generation)!

Sunday morning, and it was raining steadily, I am not sure whether I was sad or glad,for a few reasons, 1. We always need rain in Australia, 2. There were some steps to be replaced, 3.My body was protesting vehemently at all but the simplest movements.
So, we packed up the trailer with some wood that Paul no longer needed and headed for home intending to drop in at the Berwick Vineyard (Church) on the way home. The trailer was swaying at anything more that 80 K/Hour, It was wet, so I just stopped on the freeway and continued back to our happy home in Rowville

It's now Monday, and it's the first of May.
I got out of bed at 5am, went and cleaned for 2 hours for Ron Hedge and went on from there to clean for 1 1/2 hours at Hudson timber. By this time I was having trouble with my tail, for it was dragging on the ground. It's not easy Vacuuming and mopping with your tail under your left arm!
They say that you know that you are getting old if......
The one I like most is, You know that you are getting old if you don't care where your wife goes as long as you don't have to go with her!

The Spirit of the ANZACS

2006-04-26T19:20:00.000+10:00

Monday night found us sleeping at Ben and Megan's place in Carlton again.
Megan cooked us a lovely 3 course meal on the Monday evening.
I took the rare opportunity, being so close, to attend the dawn service Tuesday morning which commenced at 6am and went for just half an hour.
The Information Centre in Bourke street informed me that it would be too early for the trams, so I went by car. Big mistake, about 40,000 people turned up and most of them in trams!!! It took me ages to park the car, and thoughI got there on time, there were too many people for me to get close enough to see - BUT, the sound was clear and I could hear every word. There were mothers and children and everybody showing respect with silence and rapt attention.
Of course, I thought about my old dad who passed on in 1981. He fought in France for 2 years and after the famous battle at Villers Brettoneux he was fighting around Morlancourt when he got hit in the shoulder by a Whiz Bang which very nearly removed most of his shoulder muscle. His wound was classified as slight although the Doctors warned him he may never be able to lift his arm above his head.

After the service I was eventually able to make my way up to the shrine itself where thousands were waiting to lay wreaths or poppies inside somewhere.

While it was too early to go back to Carlton and ask Megan to let me in, I made my way down to the South Melbourne beach, near to Mark and Val's new abode and it was just magic. There will be a lot to like about living in South Melbourne Here are a few shots around the beach. You will notice some hot air balloons if you look real close.

Later in the morning we were able to visit with Simon and Brenda in Little Lonsdale Street and I was able to walk down the street and take a look at the marchers forming to march up to the shrine in the ANZAC Parade

I was interested to see the Turkish banners at Flinders Street crossing. The Turks were the enemy at Gallipoli but had been invited to join in the march, which was great

The photos at the top of the blog are of My Dad David Holt
Peta Sue's Dad (Wounded at Pozziers) and my Uncle Cyril Ellis.
I've been reading Larry's blog, and my Dad too, who was of Wesleyan Methodist stock, had a bit of a problem with the "after march" booze up, and this many times kept him away from the march, and also the fact that most of his companions were killed in action.
But I still believe in the true spirit of Anzac, and I do not subscribe to the view of some that the whole thing just glorifies war.
A lot of our choicest young men died out there, and a lot of others almost died inside
LEST WE FORGET

Easter Sunday, and Monday

2006-04-19T16:24:00.000+10:00

Sunday Morning Peta Sue and I attended the service at the Berwick Vineyard where one of the Elders, Noel Martin, gave a great account of the people Jesus met on the resurrection day, there was Mary Magdalene, the two on the Emmaus Road and the disciples. It was a great account.
We left there thinking to drive to Warragul to see number 4 son, Paul , but a phone call informed us that they were somewhere in Melbourne. So, what to do, we called Mark (Number one son)at New Market, they too were "not home". We rang number three son Greg,, Geelong, again, no answer. Where were they all? Then we rang number 5 son, Simon, in Little Lonsdale St, Melbourne. Simon answered and said "Where are you? We are all here! Ah Ha!
We made our way in and I placed $3.50 in a parking meter only to be informed by Paul that they did not need money on the Sunday. I was rueing the loss of my money when Greg appeared and found a ticket on his windscreen for $50. The hour limit still applied, and yes, the parking attendants were on the job. There were hardly any cars about, but, Ned Kelly is still alive and well in Melbourne! (Ned was an infamous bush ranger (outlaw)!
We went from there to New Market where Val, (as per usual) fed us very well, before our departure to sleep in Ben's bed at Carlton once again.
Monday morning we found Simon and Brenda kicking the football with their two kids in the Flagstaff Gardens, a lovely spot, just a short walk from their dwelling place.
After a sandwich for lunch at Simon's we took a tram to St Kilda and walked down Acland Street for coffee before a short doze on the beach. Walking back to MacDonald's for a senior's coffee we passed Luna Park,so I took a photo as ALB, Peta Sues Grandfather used to manage the place in the early part of the 20th century.

We caught the tram again, this time along St Kilda Road so we could get off near the Shrine of remembrance and walk to Mark and Val's new abode, just about 3 minutes walk from there

One of the balconies belong to them! (See Mark's Page)

The evening at 7.30, we made our way to the Blue Chilli in Brunswick St Fitzroy where Ben, our number 6 son, was celebrating his 33rd birthday with a few friends. It was a privilege to be present, although it took me a while to "get over" the food.
They all tell me my tastes are old fashioned!

We were both glad to get home and into our own bed.
I was up at 3am Tuesday for a cleaning job. Back to earth!

It's Friday... But Sunday's coming.

2006-04-15T13:40:00.000+10:00

Friday morning (Good Friday) found Peta Sue and I at the Andrew's Centre.
Some of the folk from the Berwick Vineyard gathered to mark the events of that day nearly 2000 years ago when the Christ accomplished his decease at Jerusalem.
We sang some old songs as well a couple of newer ones. There was "It is well with my soul" and Keith Green's "There is a Redeemer".
Four of those present each spoke briefly about the things Jesus said while enduring his crucifixion. I was the fourth one and my job was to speak about "It is finished", and "Into your hands I commend my spirit".
After this we watched the part of the Jesus film depicting the crucifixion. Everybody was moved.
I notice that Mel Gibson's film, "The Passion of the Christ" is on TV Sunday night.
While I think that the lashing went on longer than the accounts could support, no matter how you might try, you will not be able to pretty up a crucifixion.

Unfortunately I didn't think to take photo at the Andrew's Centre until most people had gone home.

Here are my notes for my 5 minutes worth.
John 19:30 The last words of Jesus on the day of his crucifixion.
The English translation of the one word, “Teleo”, It is finished.
Just a few months earlier at what is known as the transfiguration Moses and Elijah had talked with him about his decease which he would accomplish in Jerusalem.
This decease which he was to accomplish was not in any way ordinary by todays standards.
To be shot by a firing squad, though terrifying, done properly would be quick.
To be hung by the neck until dead, done properly would also be terrifying but quick.
To be put to death in an Electric chair. Again, terrifying but quick.
To be put to death by a lethal injection, quick
To be put to death by crucifixion, terrifying, cruel and agonizingly slow.
Over and above that for Jesus the Christ, he was laden with the sins of the whole world.
It was the heaviest burden ever borne.
the father had to turn his face from him.
It was the the most painful separation ever suffered.
At about 3 O’Clock in the afternoon Jesus indicated that he would accept something to drink.
All he could do was to croak out the words “I thirst”.
I think the reason was that he had something he needed to say and he needed to wet his parched and burning throat.
After he had received the vinegar he raised his head and cried out with a loud voice
“It is finished”
Startling cry, It was a cry of victory.
I would have sobbed to myself and said It is all over. But Jesus was talking about more than the physical sufferings. My little Grandaughter Alese said after an operation a week or two back “It’s all done, Its all done”
The Holy law demanded death for the sinner, for me, for you.
We were done for.
Jesus became sin for us and put it away by the sacrifice of himself
There is nothing to equal it anywhere.
I get indignant when I hear people say, "What we need to do is study comparative religion." Well, I say again with some heat and some feeling in my spirit, Christianity is not a comparative religion, it's a SUPERLATIVE religion! Because this one saying of Jesus Christ explodes every other religion on God's earth! They are all useless when it comes to the sin issue.
In this momentous event...
I can see demons peeping out from hell as they see Jesus has gone to the cross.
I can see angels looking over the parapets of heaven,
I can see the Jews and the Romans and the Greeks. They are all at the cross!
Jesus accomplished the “mission impossible” and declared “It is finished” And as Luke has it
Luke 23:46 And when Jesus had cried out with a loud voice, He said, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit”. And having said this he breathed his last.

Unless Jesus comes back pretty quick, I too have to die, You have to die, and you, and you.
I’m saying it now, as I might be unable to say it when my time comes. But whatever, it will be all right.
The words of Jesus, Father, into your hands I commend my spirit’
A Catholic priest tells of this account
One day, I was sitting with Rodleigh, the leader of the troupe, in his caravan, talking about flying. He said, "As a flyer, I must have complete trust in my catcher, The public might think that I am the greatest star of the trapeze, but the real star is Joe, my catcher. He has to be there for me with split-second precision and grab me out of the air as I come to him in the long jump."
"How does it work?" I asked.
"The secret," Rodleigh said, "is that the flyer does nothing and the catcher does everything: when I fly to Joe, I have simply to stretch out my arms and hands and wait for him to catch me and pull me safely over the apron behind the catchbar."
"You do nothing!" I said, surprised.
"Nothing," Rodleigh repeated. "A flyer must fly, and a catcher must catch, and the flyer must trust, with outstretched arms, that his catcher will be there for him."
When Rodleigh said this with so much conviction, the words of Jesus flashed through my mind: "Father into your hands I commend my Spirit." Dying is trusting in the catcher. To care for the dying is to say, "Don't be afraid. Remember that you are the beloved child of God. He will be there when you make your long jump. Don't try to grab him; he will grab you. Just stretch out your arms and hands and trust, trust, trust."
I would like to think that I might die well, whether I do or not doesn’t really matter, because when Jesus said it was all done, it was true
Let me leave you with this one word (Out Loud)…. “Finished”

Yesterday, it was Friday
Today is a gloomy Saturday
BUT
Sunday's Coming

A Supper On A Thursday Night.

2006-04-13T23:05:00.000+10:00

Across the church today many Christians are meeting in small groups through the week. These groups are referred to as Home Groups or Cell Groups.
Our Group met Thursday evening and we shared the Lord's Supper or Communion together.
As tomorrow would be Good Friday we thought that this supper would be taking place at about the same time as the original one that The Jesus Christ instituted all those years ago.

It was a very simple supper, just a small amount of bread and wine. The Christians often refer to this as a feast. It is certainly not a feast as far as quantity is concerned, but a feast indeed in what is implied and what takes place in the heart and mind of the participating believer.

Our hearts burned within us as after the simple supper we shared and talked around some of the many things surrounding this supper.
We talked about all sorts of things, about the two swords one of the disciples had come up with, about what was possibly going through the lord's mind as he drank from the cup that night. We talked about Gethsemane. We talked about the grace of God in forgiving every sinner who desires to be forgiven.

Before leaving for the meeting I had seen something on TV about Nelson Madela's imprisonment in that terrible prison. Nelson Madela said that the prison would break anyone's spirit had they endured it alone, but at night the prisoners were not segregated and they drew great strength from each other.

I guess that goes some way to enlightening us about the reason for scripture that says, "Do not forsake the assembling of yourselves together as the manner of some is".

The biggest problem that the world is facing is not global warming.
The biggest problem is that man is unable to get along with his brother.

The reason for this is sin, and we are all afflicted.
The Lord's Supper tells us a lot of important things if we have ears to hear and hearts to respond

The Wild Weekend

2006-04-10T13:04:00.000+10:00

One of the really big problems in getting away for a wild weekend, (or any other outing for that matter) is to actually have everything one needs with them when once out the door. This was no exception, as I went back inside for the third time to get something or other, I "inadvertently" left my handbag on the office desk(a male hand bag rest assured), my wallet was in the handbag, which was bad enough, but far worse, so was my digital camera, and did I ever miss out on some photo moments.
Our first port of call was Little Lonsdale Street from where we joined the Simon Holt family and walked down Swanston St to a Vietnamese Restaurant called the Pho Bo Ga Mekong. We all had a Pho, (except Alese) Simon has a food blog on the place dated Feb 10. From there we dropped in on Mark and Val at New Market. We met Megan there and proceeded to Carlton where we slept in Ben's bed, happily Ben was in the Borossa Valley SA.
Saturday morning, after a leisurely breakfast, we set off for Grovedale Geelong, about an 80 minute drive from Carlton, where we crashed at Greg and Sally's place.
Older readers will be relieved to hear that we did not have a car accident, but that we just descended upon Greg and Sally's abode and settled in.
Saturday evening we found our way down to the place where Jarred works,a high class hamburger joint with poor signage. The hamburgers weren't cheap (about $9.80 each) but they did have first class ingredients and were a meal in themselves, and of course Jarred cooked them!
While I'm talking about my Grandson Jarred, I have to tell you that he appears to be what we used to call a bit of a "Dark Horse". At this point I have inserted his photograph.

Well, I went to the church that they (Greg, Sally and Jarred) attend. Sally had given me "good oil" before I went. "Sit with Greg at the sound desk and you may avoid the mandatory hug from you neighbour and also holding the hand of the person next to you at other intervals. I took her advice with great alacrity. This also placed me in the position which enabled me to have a good view of Jarred from the rear. There he was. He had placed himself next to the best looking girl in the church, and when the time came to release the other persons hand,(read for other person, "good looking girl") he would not do it!
Like I say, "He's a bit of a dark horse" this boy.
After a lunch of "Sally special" soup, we took or leave and made our way to the Ashburton Baptist Church where our number one son, Mark, was to be inducted into his new position with the Baptist Union of Victoria

This was a friendly low key affair with about 50 people attending. The ladies of the church provided a lovely afternoon tea.
After this we returned to our lovely little house at Rowville and watched a few TV programs that we had taped. It was sort of cool so I lit a little fire which soon made our room and our evening wonderful.
While some of you are still smurking about my handbag, I will include one more photo of a Holt male carrying flowers.

You can stop smurking now.

You know that you are getting old when this is the account you give of a wild weekend!

Daylight Saving is ..Off,.. Again

2006-04-04T02:02:00.000+10:00

Evidently we have saved enough daylight for the time being.
I am sure that putting the clocks all back is a bigger job for me than it is for most people. My wife said to me this morning that I was pedantic. I'm not sure whether this was a compliment or not, I will have to look it up in the dictionary.
It could have something to do with the fact that my first move is to bring up the Greenich Mean Time site on the computer. It's a real beauty, it gives the progressive time to the second, then I start on the clocks with batteries in them. There are about 6 or 8 of them about, I wait till the second hand reaches the 60th second position, then I quickly remove the battery, next I set the hour and minute hand exactly to the new hour and the next minute and at exactly the right time indicated by Greenich, I quickly replace the battery, and whammo, off goes the clock again, at the new time and almost excatly on the second. If this is pedantic, it's great.
Next are all the other clocks, and they are to be found in all kinds of places, in the phones, on the fax, the oven, the micro wave, the sound system, the VCR and Video Recorders, even the Air Conditioning remote
, which I realise that I have omitted to alter. For all of this I have the real time.
Gone is the speaking clock which I used to have to ring and pay for the call, holding the phone to my ear to hear this cultured voice saying, "On the third stroke it shall be 11:55, at the third stroke it shall be 12 O'clock exactly" and so on until the call cut out. You will be pleased to know I'm sure, that this service is to stop after something like 30 years, (that's a guess). I did read that they found it to be five seconds out, they should refund my call money, 5 seconds indeed.

This is the clock in my office, it doesn't tell you that it is AM, that is nearly 3 in the early hours.
I am not sure that we should meddle with time, putting the clock back has upset the weather, my body clock is confused and my dog is confused. He came and peered in our lounge room window at about 5pm last night looking for his tea. They say that dogs can't see TV, I've always thought that this was a bit of a furphy, but if you could see Monty's blank look as he tries to peer through the lounge room window, you might believe this to be true.
As you read this blog, assuming that you are indeed still reading, you may even think that I too am too am a bit confused. You may be right, but it's not my fault.
I am going back to bed, but before I go, a couple of thoughts
Confucius says, "Man who runs in front of car gets tired,
But
Man who runs behind car gets exhausted"
The Bible says "Redeem the time" Is that save it or something a little different
Jesus says "I am the light of the world, He that follows me shall not walk in darkness but shall have the light of life"
In John 11 and 12 He also talks about walking while you have the light.
And back in chapter 9 He says "I must work the works of Him who sent me while it is day, the night is coming when no man shall work.
Hmmm there may be more to this daylight saving business than I imagined.
I had better go to bed, I don't really want to be one of those people of the night
Goodnight

Hard Rubbish Day

2006-03-20T11:24:00.000+11:00

It happens twice a year.
Today is the day.
Our streets are lined with piles of stuff no longer wanted.
There are TVs, computers, beds, mattresses, sound systems, BBQs, tables, chairs, (I haven't seen monkeys yet!) but there seems to be everything else no longer needed.
Throw it out, make room for the newer, our economy is geared to it.
I must do my part
Here is a picture of my contribution

I have come in for a rest after a burst of frenetic energy, I don't throw things out easily.
I know what I will do I will read my friend Michael's report of his time spent along the border of Myanmar(Burma) and Thailand.
Oh dear, it appears that I am not living in the real world at all. Micheal's report tells about people being persecuted, living in fear of torture and death makes me feel a little ashamed. You can read a little about conditions there by visiting
www.cswoz.org
An excerpt from Michael's report:- ....predators, who generate a fear that will not go away, may at any time may suddenly announce their presence with a rifle crack, or an obscene request that cannot be refused.

On 27th February, representing Christian Solidarity Worldwide, I was
assigned to a country town near the Thai-Burma border to interview a
party of so-called Ânew arrivalsÂ, who were in transit to a refugee camp. I
met about 25 people, aged downwards from about 60 years to a baby so
small, that it must have hardly been born when the mother was forced to
run for her life, then tramp.

They had tramped in fear for over a month. They were Christians,
Baptists, country folk accustomed to uncomplicated lives in quiet surroundings.
Somehow in the confusion they had found each other, and having been forced
from their homes they had negotiated a circuitous route through
the jungle and across the mountains, to an unknown border crossing and
contacted people who could help them.

Michael says later the the woman with the baby was not the mother, the mother had been shot.
Meanwhile, back in comfortable Rowville I am trying to reconcile the fact that I have a safe and comfortable life here, while elsewhere children of God are living in deploring situations where even life itself is despaired of.
I turn on the TV and my country is obsessed with how many gold medals it can win in the commonwealth games!
It is written somewhere
"MARANATHA (the Lord comes)

Even so
"Come Lord Jesus"

Back to Quambatook

2006-02-20T13:18:00.000+11:00

It was good to be able to attend another Quambatook re-union on Sunday February 19 2006.
The venue was the Botanic Gardens, White Hills Bendigo which is about half way between Quambatook and Melbourne. The last gathering there was in 2004 and it was a 45c degree day. We were glad that this time the weather was a pleasant 27c degrees.
I would guess that the attendance was over 150 people
There were quite a few elderly folk using walkers. Tom Gross told me he was about 94 years of age. There were old school friends, sons and daughters of the pioneers.
Here is Tom on RHS and the other man is a Keating. I asked Mr Keating if his father was the Blacksmith, Dan Keating. He replied,"No, that was my Grandfather"!
Tempest is fugiting

Here we have Vic Fitcher RHS who was in the grade above me. His father came to the town to build the wheat silos and some of the family is still there. There is possibly a warning here, Don't stay in Quambatook too long or it just might grow on you>. On the LHS is young John Billings with a moustache, he was a few grades below me.

Associate Professor Meehan is the Head of the English Department at Flinders and has written a book which won the Premiers Prize a few years ago. It is called Salt of broken tears. The book would be particularly interesting to any one born at Quambatook, but perhaps not to many others.
The professor has said that he can see no reason why careers could not be made by writing about a "very small patch of earth"

http://www.flinders.edu.au/news/articles/?fj08v11s01

I have the sneaking suspicion that there would be very few places on planet earth that had no significance to at least some people.

Now for the Kings

2006-01-31T11:40:00.000+11:00

I was amused as I imagined Nick Bergin struggling back up the slope from the creek with his anvil. It brought back many memories from earlier days, of events and of course the "stories". One such memory is from "New Years Days" at Lake Merrin. A sheaf tossing event was on the menu. There were two poles, like the AFL goal posts, but higher and closer together. A light pole or bar was raised by ropes and pulleys, higher and higher as contestants dropped out, a bit like the high jump set up. The sheaf was a sewn up Hessian bag, shaped like a torpedo and stuffed with straw and projected into the air with a 2 or 3 tined pitchfork.
See http://homepage.eircom.net/~irishthrowersclub/Sheaf%20Tossing.html
Sheaf tossing is classified as one of the heavy athletics.
Well, at Lake Merrin, there was this big man, big in all directions, I think his name was Ted or Harry James, he had balance rhythm and strength. He would send the sheaf even higher than the poles but sadly often lacked accuracy as the sheaf had to pass over the bar.
My own family has its own stories, two of my deceased brothers, Cyril and Murray were big powerful men. People from Quambatook still talk about Murray lifting his AJS 500 Motorcycle over the farm fences in order to take short cuts.
This is a picture of Murray, he makes the fence look low!

I am interested in genealogy, (this gene doesn't kick in until you are at least 60 years of age.
People talk about finding skeletons in cupboards but what they really want to find are "Kings".
My wife Peta, had Rudyard Kipling for a cousin! While Holt folklore has G/Grandfather Matthew having a brother who was the weight lifting champion of England. As far as I can see this has been a little exaggerated but I got in touch with Fred Holt from Koonwarra, whose grandfather was a cousin to Matthew. His Grandfather John was educated at Cambridge and had some notable heavy athletes in close ancestry.

John Holt, seated front centre, of course.

As I read Old and New testaments of the Bible I notice that to the Jewish people genealogy was very important, but I also take note that the Apostle Paul though his credentials through line of descent were impeccable, he counted all that as nothing that he might be found in the line of Jesus Christ ,(adopted by God as his child)
I will read again Psalm 147 verse 10
God does not delight in the strength of the horse,
He takes no pleasure in the legs of a man,
The Lord takes pleasure in those who fear Him,
In those who hope in his mercy.

Of Cabbages and kings

2006-01-23T11:28:00.000+11:00

The new year is off and running and though I am already a little out of breath I must return to the keyboard due to popular demand, well from some members of the family anyway.

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

Some of the following verse is begging to be added here!

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"

In my December blog I mentioned the Blacksmith who used to run his business near our corner, (before my time of course)
But even as I mention that another poem springs to mind, not Lewis Carol this time but Henry Wadsworth Longfellow himself:
Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
The folowing is from a Rowville History page

Stories abound about Nick and his blacksmith shop on the south-east corner of Wellington and Stud Roads. He certainly must have been a colourful character but also he must have been a skilful smithy as much of his work involved the shoeing of the Row family's team of high class show jumpers.

Ted Row showed his gratitude to Nick for his good work by presenting the show prize cards to him. By the time of Nick's retirement, all four walls of his shop were covered with the cards.

Gordon Dobson told me that, as a teenager, he used to take his horses to Nick to have their feet done. Nick was, according to Gordon, a strong man who liked boxing. One day a big Irishman came and invited Nick to put on the gloves and "He'd show him a thing or two". Nick obliged and knocked the Irishman backwards into the big trough of water he used for cooling the hot metal.

"On another occasion," said Gordon, "Nick came off second best when another powerful man, Jack Murphy of One Tree Hill, called in. Nick told Jack a yarn about how a very strong man had visited him the previous week and had lifted his anvil and carried it across the road. Jack saw that his reputation was being challenged so without a word he lifted the anvil, carried it across the road and heaved it over the fence. Nick had a terrible job getting the anvil back to the forge".

All of this reminds me of my early days at "Wattle View" Quambatook. We had the mandatory Forge, a shed clad with corrugated iron. The centre piece was the forge itself, energized by the bellows set at the rear of the forge. The bellows were operated by "pumping" with a long stick (read small straight limb from tree about 3 inches down to 2 inches in diameter), this stick reached from the rear of the bellows to the front of the forge and could be swung to one side or the other to escape the heat from the burning of the home made charcoal. Close to the forge stood a large and heavy anvil, and alongside the anvil, a barrel of water used for cooling, and of course tempering the hot metal. Along one wall stood the bench made from heavy bush timber.
On the bench was a large old fashioned vice, scattered around the vice lay various tools. One of the walls was adorned with tongs, different shapes and sizes. these were used for holding the hot metal as it was beaten into shape with a hammer on the anvil..
Outside the entrance lay a great pile of metal, bits and pieces accumulated over many years. This metal was absolutely essential for any manufacture or repair for there was no shop nearby or money to buy had there been such !

Here is a photo taken c1970 when there was still some evidence of existence of the forge.
Standing is part of an old chaff cutter. The circular brick construction is the forge itself on its original site.
Behind the forge and toward the tree lie the rotting bellows.
As I look more closely at the “chaff cutter” I believe it could have held the large round sand stone which was turned by hand

I mentioned above the “home made charcoal” I remember a couple of occasions my Dad making the charcoal.
It went something like this, My Dad had dug a large hole in the ground about 4 feet deep and six feet in diameter. In the hole he placed all sorts of bits and pieces of hard mallee wood, including mallee roots, I think!
This large amount of wood was set alight and at the appropriate time (I’m not too sure exactly at what stage of combustion) a large cover was put over the burning hole, (a top off an old water tank) and this lid was covered with dirt. I imagine that this was left for many days before opening and saving the charcoal which resulted.

I realise I haven't got around to the cabbages and Kings but I will stop now while you are still reading avidly and return with the rest of the subject not many days hence

2005 is History

2006-01-05T10:43:00.000+11:00

It takes a December to bring the old year to a close and our December did it in style.

Ben is back from the UK and has found a job behind a rather large desk

Simon is back from Texas followed by Brenda and the kids after Christmas Day.

Simon is ensconced in Little Lonsdale Street Melbourne and has rooms with a view

Larry and family are over from Tasmania for their annual holidays and here we are enjoying one another's company at Central, just a short walk from Simon's digs.
You may notice that Simon is still suffering from jet lag!
Here we are with Larry and Jo enjoying a picnic at Mordialloc Beach

On New Years Day Mark preached his last sermon at New Market Baptist Church.
He in turn is on holidays before taking up the position of State Director of Global Interaction Australia and will probably spend some of the holiday time house hunting.

Greg is somewhere in Northern Victoria or New South Wales trying to get into his favourite state, which is "All up in the air"

Then last but not least there is Paul and his family camping at Skenes Creek.
We spent about three nights with them. It was a reminder of many camps over the years.
Many beaches, and Australia has some real beauties

The passing of time, Christmases rolling by, changes, comings and goings, and not the least camping, more and more serve to remind me of the transience of life.
As my old Dad used to say, we are here for just a moment of time, and there is such a lot of time that we are not "here".
It is really wonderful to know that though we are just campers,in and through Jesus Christ that we have a home in the heavens.
Hebrews chapter 11 and particularly the 10th verse
"Abraham dwelt in the land of promise as in a foreign country, dwelling in tents with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise, for he waited for the city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God
Have a great year, appreciate your time and opportunities.

It's Been 10 Years

2005-12-09T10:48:00.000+11:00

After living at number 4 Mulgoa Ave, Dandenong for thirty plus years, and raising a family there, the opportunity arose for us to move to a new house for our retirement years.
We actually moved just seven kilometers along Stud Road to a place named Rowville.
We were able to purchase a vacant block of land in the South East corner of this fast growing suburb and proceed with the building of a house as "Owner Builders" due to the generosity and expertise of our third son Greg. He supervised all aspects of the building and personally did all the framing and fixing.
Our second son, Larry gave us a lot of help with the painting.
Proverbs 27:5 has it, "Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord, and the fruit of the womb is his reward. As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man, so are children of his youth. Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate". The size of quivers differ considerably, Mine holds six!
The year was 1995, we had open land between us and the golf course but Melbourne's insatiable need for more housing has made the view disappear.

Now at the end of 2005 vacant blocks are scarce.

Salerno Way is near an edge of a triangular area which borders on Stud Road, Bergins s Road and Wellington Road and when we need to exit on Stud Road we take our lives in our hands, but yesterday things changed for the better
We now have traffic lights at the corner of Bergin and Stud

Rowville, like every other place has a history which would go back long before the Rev James Clow became the first squatter there c1838 when the Kulin people used to come and go in there relentless search for food. They fished in the swamps surrounding the Dandenong Creek until white men came and drained the swamps to get the redgum from there for the streets of Melbourne.
Stamford Park

In 1868 James Quirk sold his 424 acre property bounded by Stud Road, Wellington Road and Dandenong Creek to Frederick Row for one pound and ten shillings an acre.

Frederick Row was a wealthy wool broker who was moving up in colonial society. He bought the property beyond the Stud Park Shopping Centre and on the opposite side of Stud Road with the intention of turning it into a country estate. He named it Stamford Park after an estate of the same name owned by the Row Family in Linconshire, England. The present grand homestead on the property was built in 1882 by his son, Edward Row.

The home became the focus for Melbourne's wealthy and well-connected people during Christmas and the spring racing season. The famous actress, Nellie Stewart, was a frequent guest and later married Frederick Row's youngest son, Richard. Leading members of Melbourne society including the Governor, Lord Hopetoun, were also guests at Stamford Park.

Near the traffic lights there are two monuments, the first one to the Blacksmith Nick Bergin who ran his business at the same corner from 1865, a colourful character indeed. Nick is credited with the naming of Rowville, due to his respect for the Row family of Stamford Park.

The other monument is to the War Servicemen. In 1942 an Australian Army Base was established for tactical purposes should Japanese invasion eventuate. Within the year the Australian troops moved out and American troops moved in and when they went to the Pacific to battle the base was used as a POW camp for Italians captured in North Africa. When the war finished several of the Italians absconded, not wanting to return to Italy, but to settle in Australia.

Lastly, there is a sign at the corner of Bergins Road saying that the Lunar Drive In is situated just 5 Km down the road, actually it is nearer 10 Kms.
Rowville had a great Drive in just a short walk from our house. It was built and run by a local lad commencing about 1957 and surviving until the day of the DVD.
I remember stopping on the hill on Stud Road on more than one occasion for a free look

Mark 1:1-8

2005-12-02T16:13:00.000+11:00

Almost 50 years ago I traveled through floods to the North Nar Nar Goon Methodist Church.
It was so wet. There were a few places where I wondered if I would get through the waters flowing over the unmade road in my 1947 Dodge. When I arrived there was only one other person present. He was to be the preacher.
He was a young Rev Dallas Clarnette. He was passionate about the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
He went on to become quite a figure among Australian Christians and is the author of the book, "50 years on fire for God, the story of Walter Betts and the People's Church, Kew, Victoria.
Perhaps I was meant to be there that morning.
We sat together on the stage of the hall, just the two of us, and he opened the Bible at Marks Gospel, chapter one and verse one and for at least half an hour talked with me about this verse of scripture, "The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God".
While I felt privileged, I also felt a little puzzled that he made so much of these few words.
As a result of this "discipling" when ever I turn to Mark chapter one I have the sense that I am opening an ordinary looking jewel case filled with precious stones, mysterious stones and glittering priceless ornaments.
I intend to try and hold up and display a few of these precious things at the New Market Baptist Church this Sunday morning.
Psalm 119:162 "I rejoice at thy word, as one that finds great spoil"

50 years seems a long time to a person, but to God it's probably a blink of the eye.

This is what happened to the little boy in the top photo in that time

HORSES

2005-11-22T15:09:00.000+11:00

I quite like horses but I don’t love horses as many people do. My one and only attendance at a horse race only came about one day as I set out to go to the football at Windy Hill. As I went, I met a friend from work while waiting for a tram at the end of Puckle St, Moonee Ponds, and he was going to Moonee Valley to the races, so I went with him. Now this would hardly be the case if I loved horses.
I was surprised to learn that the Red Indians only had horses in the later days after the Mexicans left some there after one of their wars; I was under the impression that they had horses in the days of antiquity.

As I’ve been “mining the memories” it took me somewhat by surprise that my experience was about opposite to the Red Indians. Horses were an integral part of my first 15 years and practically no part at all since.
Living on a Mallee wheat and sheep farm, horses were a vital part of many operations. We had two teams of heavy draught horses along with the necessary hacks for riding and others for buggies, gigs and trailers.
We had state of the art pioneer stables, long and large hollow logs, split in half, lengthways for feed troughs.
The horses pulled anything that needed pulling, and on a wheat farm, lots of things had to be pulled, ploughs, seeders, harrows, binders, wagons, scoops, dead trees for fire wood, as well as gigs and such.

My mother was an Ellis, and it was said that the Ellis’s always had smart rigs and horses.
Great Grandfather Ellis never caught the gold fever but earned a modest but more reliable living as a teamster.
Even in my early visits to Melbourne there seemed to be almost as many horse drawn vehicles as motorized transport.

We went to school in a horse and buggy, the roof of the buggy had been torn off by a low branch in earlier days by my older brothers so we felt the sun and the rain, we would even take turns run behind to get warmed up on the frosty mornings.
I’ve been tipped out of buggies in runaways, swept off the horses by branches, bitten, trodden on ,knocked down, urinated on ,defecated on by horses. The latter happened when the droughts broke and the green grass sprang up; behind a horse in a small gig was not a good place in such times.
I’ve also had packed lunches stolen and eaten by horses more than once or twice.
Did I mention that I do quite like horses?
I will never forget the traumatic day when my father was knocked over by a heat crazed runaway Clysdale, knocked over is not quite the term, he did two or three circles in the air before hitting the ground. He had a lot of trouble making the haystacks that year using just one arm on the pitchfork. We could get the hay up to him but lacked the expertise needed to make the stack.
We also used a bag loader for the wheat bags to get them up on the wagon, a three bushel bag of wheat ways about 180 pounds, earlier than that the bags were 4 bushels. This bag loader was pulled up by a horse, my job was to lead the horse forwards, thus raising the bag up in an arc to my dad on the wagon, reaching him at about chest height, and then I would have to back the horse back to the starting position for the next bag.
This happened over 100 times each load, and being a young person with little stick ability or attention to detail, the bag would sometimes be delivered with a bit of a jolt; of course this could result in my dad being almost knocked over backwards by the force of the heavy bag. Who would work with kids?

During the early years of the Second World War all our heavy horses were sold at the Dandenong market.
I think my dad was a little bit sad, and my brother Murray even sadder. I can’t recall losing any sleep over it myself. The horses probably ended up in tins.
I sometimes feel that I have lived in two different worlds in one life time

Photos

PetaSue and the Blue Bando
Nugget,our "School" horse
Sunshine Ranch Queensland
Horses and machinery, harvesting.
Horses and buggy at Quambatook before my time
Horses and wagon
Harvesting at Quambatook c1920

2005-11-16T23:02:00.000+11:00

OUR MOB

On average one of our mob celebrates a birthday every 12.166 days.
This may sound like trivia to the casual reader, but when the matriarch of the family takes present giving and "occasion" attendance seriously, "Houston, we have a problem".
Let's not forget that Christmas also happens annually, as well as anniversaries and other incidentals.
Now don't get the idea that I am complaining, my life has entered the "Happy Hour" zone, I am 5 years into "time on"

You know that your getting old if happy hour is a nap.
I am resting from my labours, perhaps taking Rev 14:13 out of context a little.

What do you think this person might be contemplating? "The Mob"?
This past week we have noted 2 birthdays, one who turned 45 and another 51.
Like I say, You know that your getting old if your sons arms are too short to read the newspaper. I hope that you "get" the subtlety of that. If you don't, you know that your getting old when your son is nearly as old as you are.
There was a poem that started, I remember, I remember, the day that I was born.
Well, I can't, but it probably wasn't a great experience for me at the time.
I was passing from one sort of life to another, which was quite necessary for all concerned, especially my mother.
It is also necessary that I have another transition, it might not look pretty from your end, although one morning you may not be able to wake me up!
Don't be concerned, I will be more alive than ever. But to coin a phrase from the Gladiator, "But not yet"

2005-11-07T10:00:00.000+11:00

THE CHURCH IS ALIVE AND WELL ON PLANET EARTH

In recent years I have been fulfilling the role of a Christian Nomad. This has enabled me to see more clearly what is going on in different places and settings.
A couple of weeks ago I was able to attend an Anglican church in Berwick where "The Open Door" gave a presentation of the underground church in China, what an encouragement, what a challenge. I must read "The Heavenly Man" again. This is an account of the life and doings of a Chinese Christian.
After visiting a Church of Christ at Surrey Hills a couple of weekends ago, we went for coffee in a complex nearby, while there a young man I hadn't seen for some time came over and spoke with us, he said, "The church is powering on all over the place".
I wrote recently about a first communion and a baptism. Well, this last weekend we attended the Bayside church in Grovedale where one of our Grandsons, Jarred Holt, was being baptised. The church was full of young people. As is usual these days I seemed to be the oldest person present, which suits me fine as up to this point I haven't had to hang around with old people. Perhaps that day is approaching!
But back to the baptism, this was to be a baptism in water where the candidate is placed totally under the water. The Bible indicates that this is symbolical, not only of washing, but an identification with Jesus Christ in his death, burial and resurrection, and is reserved for people who "believe", often referred to as "Believer's Baptism"

Jarred was able to stand up and give a good account of why he was taking this step.
It was deeply moving for him, and I think also for all who were present as he paid tribute to Jesus Christ, and then to his mum and dad.
For me,my mind ran back something like 25 or 30 years when Jarred's father,(and our son) Greg Holt, stood in the Dandenong Baptist Church and have a similar, moving testimony. What can I say? God is good.
According to doomsayers, the church is about to disappear. How wrong they are.
The again, it may well do so. Have you never read, "For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, and the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first, then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and thus we shall always be with the lord"?
At that time the doomsayers can say, "I told you so"

2005-10-26T11:32:00.000+10:00

Ahh, the mystery of the computer and all it's works.
Now how to get my photo over on to my details.
If it is not too big that is

2005-10-25T13:06:00.000+10:00

Wood

Some confused fellow once exclaimed, "I can't see the wood for the trees"
If he was to come to our place everything would be back the front.
I'll explain that if necessary.

MORE WOOD

While walking last night , God said, "Boy, do you want some wood"
I said, "Speak Lord, your servant is listening".
I hurried home and was able to get 2 trailer loads, I got it all even before the ferals turned up.
Thanks be to God.
Ben looks at my wood and says, "Dad, you've got wood to burn".!!!
I look and say, well that should last for 2 cold weeks.
Does the world really need optimists?
But then I must say, sometimes, when the Spirit moves, I feel Michael Angelo rising inside. (He was the guy that looked at a huge piece of granite and saw David within)
and at those times I see all sorts of things in the wood. No, I don't mean grubs and such, I mean things like Bowls and Standard Lamps and Candle Holders.

Can you guess what some people will "receive" for Christmas?

Some people are wool gatherers, I gather all sorts of things, I'm sure one could live on the things that Rowville people throw out.
More strength to the gatherers of this world
2 verses from the hoarders (and makers) bible
Proverbs 6:6 Go to the ant, thou sluggard, consider her ways and be wise.
Proverbs 30:28 The spider taketh hold with her hands, and is in King's palaces

To ponder on, the words of a "poor" poet from Scotland named Burns.
I would the gift that God would gie us
to see ourselves as others see us
It woulld from many a blunder free us
and foolish notions

2005-10-23T21:31:00.000+10:00

The First Communion

Our neighbours across the road are from India, Newton and his wife Cynthia. Newton has a son from a previous marriage named Sigmund who is about 18 years of age. Cynthia has two children from Newton, Savannah, about 8, and Stefan about 2.
About 18 months ago, Newton came over and introduced himself, going out of his way to tell me that he was a christian, I thought at the time that this was done for my peace of mind, but it turns out they are what is known as practising Catholics.
Cynthia is "friendship itself", befriending her self to any willing neighbours.
About 3 weeks ago Cynthia told us that Savannah was to celebrate her "First Communion" and she invited us to come. On the day I made my third appearance inside a Roman Catolic Church, the previous visits were, one, to a wedding, and the second, a funeral. Well, what a pleasant surprise, among all the crossing and bowing, the gospel came forth in a lovely way. The jovial priest welcomed any visitors, especially a man from Ireland, with the words, "The damned Irish are everywhere".
I think he was using the word in the colloquial sense, and not in one of those "Krino" senses.
We arrived back at Salerno Way, and went across the road to Newton and Cynthia's place to find that the festivities were only just beginning. There were quite a few people there who looked as if they also came from India. A tall Indian man seemed to be the self appointed MC. It appears that his main job was to see that everyone had a glass with something in it. He was quite concerned to see me pouring an innoccous Coke. I had to smile when he went over to Marqui and surveyed all the food set out.
His approval was such that he said in a loud voice, "Hallelujah", followed almost immediately with the words, "The bloody rain is coming in here"! There was a lot of laughter and joy in their celebration and some singing, this is a song everybody joined together in singing,

Congratulations and celebrations We want the world to know we’re happy as can be
Congratulations and jubilations
We want the world to know
She has Jesus in her heart
Would you believe he makes us happy and contented There was a time happiness hadn‘t been invented But that was in the bad old days before she met him
Oh when she let him
Walk into her heart
Congratulations and celebrations
We want the world to know we’re happy as can be Congratulations and jubilations
We want the world to know
She has Jesus in her heart.
It took me about 24 hours to get over too much "Indian" food, but the memory of the whole experience of that "first Communion" has stayed with me.
The words Greville Hinton spoke to me years ago came back to me, "You know Don, we Baptists have no theology of the child".

Today we attended a service in a Baptist church where where one of my niece"s sons was baptised, you know, dipped right under the water. His name is James and he is 21 years of age. He has given his life to Christ and gave a good account of his faith.
It was good to be there.

We went from there to the second half of the service at the Berwick Vineyard and the preacher gave a great message
While it is wonderful to see the church alive and well in other settings, I still call the livlier end of the protestant church home.

2005-10-10T15:22:00.000+10:00

"I WAS A STRANGER, AND YOU TOOK ME IN"

It was a nice day so we decided to try for another BBQ. Our two previous attempts were marred by forgetfulness. They were just low key picnics. The first, we opened our little basket, got out our diet biscuits and as we attempted to pour the coffee from our smalll thermos, we discovered that we had no cups. The second time we made sure that we had cups, sugar and even tea spoons. We opened our diet biscuits, got our cups out, and the spoons, but alas, as we poured from our small thermos, out came ,,, milk! We had forgotten to put in the coffee as we made it. We drank the sweetened milk and I have to tell you, it was very nice.
But the last time was a real BBQ, we took 4 sausages a well as the coffee and diet biscuits.
We tried the first "free" BBQ, marvelling at it's stainless steel top just sparkling in the sun, some yobbo Ozzie yelled out, "That BBQ doesn't work mate We waited as another Ozzie family finished their cooking on the adjoining barbie, being entertained by their discussion as to whom in their group was having realtionships with whom. Our turn came in due course and we layed our 4 sausages on this well used stainless steel plate, blackened by the previous users liberal use of some sauce on their already marinated spare ribs. As we watched our humble sausages begin to sizzle, along came some "strangers". We were able to inform them that the barbie they were about to use was out of order. As they waited for us to finish, I invited them to use the three quarters of the plate not taken up by our sausages, but they declined as they thought that we might be unimpressed by what they were going to cook. We spent the time asking them questions and discovered thet they hailed from Vietnam and there were 12 of them in the family group and I thought them to be quite delightful people.
As I thought about this afterwards, I thought that I would not be the best choice of person to take over Mr Ruddock's job, or we would have "boat people" arriving every week!
In Adelaide some years ago, I got booked for parking my car near some obscure sign, when I went to pay the authorities, I said to them "I was a atranger, and you took me in".

2005-10-03T15:42:00.000+10:00

It was June 2004, we were passing through the Cotswold Hills, South Western England, (famous for its Cotswold sheep). Ben was driving with his mum alongside him in the front, both enjoying the others company, while I huddled grumpily in the back with my bout of Bell's Palsy. I wasn't seeing very well but I did notice a man working with his sheep in a makeshift holding yard and race. This was going on quite close to the road so I called a halt in order to have a closer look and perchance a chat with the man. I watched for a while. He appeared to be crutching his little captives, for their own good of course, though they seemed singularly unimpressed. When each one was done, he or she was free to make their way out through the race, a narrow outlet that could be blocked by the body of the man. As glad as the sheep were to find their own personal little ordeal over, the little outlet seemed to hold some imagined danger resulting in the race becoming choked up with a few timidly reluctant escapees.
The man was encouraging them one by one, saying, "Come on, be bold, be bold"
I didn't think much about this at the time, but asked the man when he expected to shear the sheep, to which he replied, "I hope to do so within a couple of weeks".
I returned to my back seat, and to my grumpy seclusion, considering the evident danger of blowfly strike in the mild English summer even though the sheep would be completely shorn in the not too distant future.
It was only many months later that my mind returned to the man encouraging the inmates to "be bold, be bold", realizing that this was indeed the "key verse" to the little parable enacted out before me that day in the Cotswolds.
The Good shepherd is often quoted as saying, "It's me, don't be afraid" or "Don't be afraid, it will be all right".
The Holy Spirit seems to give similar promptings in all different kinds of setting and circumstances.
My father was a kind of under shepherd to me, his shepherding methods changed as I grew older, the more capable I became the more he took his hand off me.
He was always encouraging and affirming. He used to say, "Don, life is like a game of cricket, you might go out for a duck or you might make a hundred, so you should go out intending to hit up a hundred" I used to have the feeling that to hit up a hundred one made a lot of money!
When he was asked by the older children why I was treated so well, his reply was that he had learned a lot by the time he got to me. I am still thankful for that.
The words of an old Western Song from my boyhood comes to mind.
Home, home on the range
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard
A discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

2005-09-30T16:29:00.000+10:00

"Mining
the Memories"

Earlier this year, (2005), we visited our number five son at his weekender at Castlemaine. I wanted to attend a "Back to Waanyarra", so we all set off, my wife and I in our car, followed by Simon, Brenda, Alese and Nathaniel in theirs. We had only gone about 10 Klms when Simon pulled me over to tell me we were heading in the wrong direction. We finally arrived at the pioneer memorial cemetery, but there was someting strange about the absense of other people. I furtively consulted my information sheet, how embarrassing, we were exactly one week late.
Regathering my aplomb, I showed them the "Holt" family graves where my G Grandfather Matthew, my G Grandmother Rebecca, and a couple of other members of the family are awaiting the resurrection of the body.
My status as the knowlegable patriach somewhat re-established, I led the little entourage through the trackless bush, past all the myriad of upturned piles of earth and stone left just like that by the early gold seekers to a place I declared to be the site of the old Holt homestead.
The resulting photo is called three generations. I am the youngest son with my second youngest son, with his youngest son. Simon too would have been a yougest son, but a brother named Benjamin appeared 12 years later