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Picture a theatre performance about words at risk, in a space once occupied by hidden women, during a time of heightened historical, political and cultural conflict. Read more
I came across a photo my cousin posted of herself with another cousin of ours on Instagram captioned, ‘Sticks and Squid’. I smiled as I instinctively knew which one was which. The nickname Sticks is new to me, whereas Squid is not too far removed from the nickname we used back in the day, Squiff or Squiffy. Sobriquets are an interesting form of family code, and to be honest, I’ve had a lot of fun unravelling who’s who. Now that I know about Sticks, it’s only right that Sticks’ name should stick, right?
Melbourne emerged from a second lockdown in November. Restricted to a five-kilometre radius of one’s home for thirteen weeks, Melburnians had no choice but to get to know the local surrounds intimately. These restrictions kept many from seeing family and friends, and from travelling.
Writing about my great grandfather’s purchase of his property, Ikerrin, had me thinking about the origins of the common phrase, the ‘Great Australian Dream’. I wanted to know if it stemmed from the post war period in the 1950s, or was an earlier concept.
The ‘Great Australian Dream’ conjures a picture of a home of one’s own, suburban security, a three-bedroom brick veneer, trimmed lawns and backyard barbeques. This collectively held aspiration for home ownership gained traction in media and literature from the 1960s.
“You can replace a partner, but you can never replace a mother”.
These words cut through the haze shrouding my existence. I was walking towards the gates of the Immaculate Conception Church, Hawthorn with a pastoral worker. Her words were spoken kindly, even maternally; it was followed with a genuinely concerned, “take care of yourself”. But the sentence, ‘you can never replace a mother’ seared my heart, and forewarned me of the pain ahead. Spoken by someone who knew deeply, the grief of losing a mother.
For many Australians, a January beach holiday is a quintessential summer tradition. The post Christmas migration to the coast is as Australian a tradition as the Boxing Day test.
Last year, I spent Christmas Day in Belgium, reconnecting with my old university friends and celebrating Christmas with their respective families. I enjoyed generous hospitality, food and conversation. It was a fitting conclusion to a superb three-month trip in Europe.
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When was the last time you did a jigsaw puzzle? The family archive in my spare room is the ultimate games room to me. Boxes upon boxes of various pieces waiting to be put together to create a new understanding of my family's collective history.
What Will Be looks back at people, places and travel and uncovers stories hidden in diaries, letters, and photos. It pieces together obvious clues and obscure details; reveals the personalities of people we used to know and those we could not have known; and re-tells the stories that have been forgotten or hidden. Tell me your thoughts and put a piece or two in the puzzle while you're at it.