Arriving yesterday, we’ve turned off the Eyre Highway towards the Great Australian Bight – careering down a steep escarpment across dunes and a rocky 4WD track – to 50km southeast of Cocklebiddy; the old Eyre telegraph station.
In the morning we meet Shirley while sitting on the veranda drinking coffee. Shirley has a weathered face despite the permanent fixture of a wide-brimmed calico hat; a look that’s incongruous with her old-school English. She’s a volunteer here at the research station, an amateur naturalist and historian. She brushes a fly from her mouth; the standard Outback salute.... Read More
My favorite books as a child are still my favorite, The Narnia Chronicles by C.S. Lewis, excluding the Bible, of course. It does seem ridiculous that my favorite books are a children's series because I am an English Literature major, who has read thousands of masterpieces,classics, novels, poems, essays and articles. What can I say?? When I am asked, “What is your favorite book?”, The Narnia Chronicles immediately pop into my mind. I smile and all else fades into the background.
I read the entire series again about ten years ago and I was delighted. C.S. Lewis manages to reveal profound... Read More
After over 25 years working in social services and with many types of issues, if I have learned anything, it is that we all have the ability to make a difference in this world. I have witnessed this over and over again. Too often people are written off in our "throw away" society. Let me explain what I mean by this...and I am certainly not saying this is always the case. I would like to think that as society has become more educated ; they have a better understanding and have more compassion thus. I always say "walk a mile in someones shoes before you judge them " . This certainly would... Read More
They sit in the kitchen – Mr and Mrs L – overlooking a backyard of woodpiles, wheelbarrows and tussocks of native grass. It’s early autumn. The pungent scent of the last of a rambling Chinese jasmine wafts across the yard and mingles with the smell of last night’s rain. The weekend menagerie headcount is underway over fruit toast and espresso.
Being Saturday, it’ll be hours before Little L, now 19 years old, emerges to join the human race. Inheriting Mrs L's good looks, he’s prone to late nights and a string of girlfriends.
At the rear of the yard the chickenhouse sits under giant... Read More
DR GRIMNBERIT. ASSISTANT TO DR. FREUD AND DR. JUNG riginal.
Okay! Let's get straight down to tin-tacks. No Carbon Tax. No ego-tripping. No hogwash. No repetitious 'shrink' lolly-gagging claptrap about my mental fitness to exfoliate on my hairy 'experimental' theories on the human brain, mind, soul,and those bereft of same. It is the year 19I0. My name is Dr Grimnberit. Shrink to the 'Stars': animal, vegetable, mineral, small dogs, etc., and I only charge by the thought. Thought that would suck your thinking caps in.
I have just finished my doctorate expose on why learned... Read More
Happy Historian Melanie Jean Juneau Introduces The Passions and Talents of Barbara MacDonaldA Survivor Helps Other Survivors
After reading Barbara's warm, from the heart articles on BrooWaha, it is difficult to believe that this woman endured a hard childhood in the foster care system after a rape at age 7. Then, I realized that it is precisely because she is a survivor of sexual abuse that her passion in life is to help others, especially rape victims. Wounded people sense this healing gift and are drawn to her. Why strangers have even come up to her and started talking about their... Read More
A courageous rooster crows in the sleepy village below. I’m on the southern island of Kadavu. Spirals of smoke rise from cooking fires to a lazy sky of Fiji blue. I clamber up concrete stairs by the dining room and along a spur straddling huts of palm frond thatch and sheets of rusted iron. Monster mango trees throw a shroud of welcome shade – cool and dark – over ragamuffin fence posts and loose strands of random wire. Motley chickens scratch along the path.
On the highest knoll I sit by a wind-bent palm, sun on my back, gazing across the Pacific at Nabukulevu; an extinct cloud-topped... Read More
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