Showing posts with label In my Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label In my Life. Show all posts

Why Can't I Beleive (Music & Lyrics - Stephen Digby 1970)



Why can't the preacher preach to me
Why can't I hear the angels sing
I tell them of my agony
I beg them to reveal to me
Why can't the preacher preach to me

They say they understand
Why the hell man is damn
They know what makes me tick inside

Why can't the speaker speak to me
Why can't you convince me of the truth
When Pontious washed his hands
The son of man died

Why can't they teach me to believe
Why can't my mind be yours, and
Leave all its freedom behind
Why can't my mind be yours, and
Deceive that reason of mine.

Why can't the bible speak to me
And tell me where I went wrong
But it's only made of wood
It can't be God and it can't be food
Why can't the bible speak to me

Don't lose your disbelief, Yeah
Those who do are fools
Keep looking but never try to find the truth
'Cause if you find an answer
You kill and maim to see it tried
You'll write your own bible
You'll have your own disciples, and you'll
Kill me 'cause I can't believe

Why can't the preacher preach to me
Why can't I hear the angels sing
They take his effigy
Hang it up for all to see
Then they wear their robes and play at God

Why can't my mind be yours, and
Leave all its freedom behind
Why can't my mind be yours, and
Deceive that reason of mine.

The TV arrives

Television (TV) had been "broadcasting since 1928, but not in Australia until 1956, two years after my birth.  In about 1960, dad brought home to 4 Ivy St, Burwood, a new Black and White Television and we all sat down after school to watch a free broadcast of "The Adventures of Rin Tin Tin" in mesmerised silence.
 

Soon we added more shows to the "must watch" list: The Lone Ranger, Jet Jackson, Mr Squiggle, Zig and Zag, F Troop; The Rifleman; Rawhide; Maverick; Bonanza, Have Gun will Travel; Hopalong Cassidy; Gunsmoke; Lawman; Sugarfoot; Daniel Boone; Zorro...... and so so many more.  Free TV signals beamed out from towers all over the country to rooftop or set-top aerials just like ours building a new cultural homogeneity far more powerful than that of the radio.  Seen initally as a force for education, it's overwhelming use was as entertainment. 

Our afternoon routine now completely revolved around negotiating more time in front of the TV in exchange for anything: homework completion, cleaning bedrooms, combing mum's hair etc etc.
In our family, reading books were assumed to be a natural good. Only the most cursory attempt was made to encourage sleep over late night reading.  Radio was never popular enough to require supervision. TV was imediately recognised as an addictive information technology with less inherent benefit. 
Our watching continued on weekends even into secondary school.  After school sport on Saturday mornings, we recovered our energy in front of "Epic Theatre" where "sword and sandals" movies gave us lots of gore and a mix of history and myth. 
On Sundays, after I returned from choir at St. Mark's Church Camberwell, we would, without supervision,  watch "World Champioship Wrestling" introduced by the wierd Jack Little on Sunday Morning with characters like "Killer Kowalski".  In the late 1960's and a secondary student, I loved listening to the unusual speach patterns and fascinating political analysis of B A Santamaria - alone on Sunday TV.

The world remained BW through the 1969 moon landing.  My class stopped at Scotch College, Hawthorn and we were all ushered into the gym where we sat on the floor watched what was probably a 23in TV with quiet amazement.

Australian TV only became colourful after I had left school for university in the mid 1970's.

TV was the dominant source of entertainment for me from the early 1960’s. 

I still regarded books as an intellectually superior medium (as I do in 2022). Books require intellectual engagement for 10, 20 or 30 hours - vastly longer than any TV show. Some long running TV series (The West Wing, Breaking Bad) are worthy of being considered a coherent single work (as are the collected episodes that form many of Charles Dickens’ work. 



the late 1980’s. 

















The next type of information technology that came into my life was, unlike the ancient technology of books, a new global phenomenon heralding the start of the information revolution. I feel privileged to be living during this technological revolution (para phrasingt eh Chinese curse: "May you live in interesting times."). For me it has been a wonderful world of enjoying information access greater than any generation in human history. Information access dominates my recreation: music, entertainment, books, news - all are now delivered to me digitally. Information manipulation also became a major part of my career.









TV continued to dominate our entertainment and that of our children, Lucy and Sam for many decades with far tighter access contriols than I had to live with as a child. The content moved from the bloodless stylised violence and absence of sex, to gruesome realistic violence and ubiquitous and distorted sexuality. Nevertheless, it's shared experience maintained and defined many shared cultural experiences (the winning of the America's Cup) and icons (Crocodile Dundee) that has dissappeared in Australia.




Now in 2020, use of TV has shrunk to a tiny fraction of the previous dominance. Lib's addiction to the 7pm ABC news and the occassional "free to air" football match are the remaining vestiges. Most football matches, like other entertainment is direct from "streaming services" rather than from TV channels.




During my late primary school and early secondary school years (?), my love of classical music was developing through encouragement of my mother, Elspeth, membership of St Mark's Choir, piano lessons and the availability of a huge and growing vinyl record collection.

Phonograph record technology dates from the late 1800's and used a variety of materials to record and play back an analogue musical signal at increasingly high levels of quality. the vinyl resocrs that we collected are considered by some as th most HiFi (High Fidelity) recordings because of their "warmth.




The record collection was an accident of fortune arising from my father, Geoff's major contract employment as Art Director for the "World Record Club". This mail order vinyl record sales company received large numbers of returns - accepted with no questions aske. Many Saturday mornings, I would convince my father to take me down to <address> and allow me to select 20 or 30 records from the returns to take home. As these were destined to be pulverised we had no moral qualms. Through this process we accumulated over 2000 records. these records gave me and my mother many hours of pleasure. I




, many of which I digitally converted. In 2020, all this vinyl has at last been pulverised but the covers have been retained by Swinburne University of technology Art Department for their artistci and design merit.

I spend hundredsof hours cataloguing thes records adn in later years, re-recording them into digital format. Only a few hundred of these recordings remain in my 3000 track recording library as most have gradually been replaced by higher quality digital recordsings of the same or a better performance.

Much to the annoyance of my son, i also like "improving"




After TV, the next tech of importance in my life was radio. My love of radio started with glandular fever. I had a "crystal" radio with which I could listen to shows all throught the many nights that I could not sleep due to the fever. My night time companions were the Goons, the Argonauts Club https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Argonauts_Club, the News show that arrived at crash scenes before the Police and interviews witnesse live !!! (In 1969 there were 78 deaths per 100000 vehicles compared to 2014 when there was 4 deaths per 100000 vehicles !! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_motor_vehicle_deaths_in_Australia_by_year)

One of the most vibrant memories is the sound of oars propelling a boat in water on a silent night as occurred in The Argonauts more than once. Listening to this in a darkened room was somehow more poweful than any image I can imagine.

I still enjoy the intimacy of listening to disembodied voices but, apart from Lib's addiction to 7am ABC radion news, i hear these voices as "podcasts" usually while driving to and from work.




Technology took the next leap in 1974 when Scotch College secondary school started using the MONECS https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MONECS system to teach us programming as an activity within mathematics classes. We were taught the MINITRAN language and could test our programs by "punching out" "chads" from a card with a paperclip for every line of our program. The cards were sent to Monash university and our results were returned a day or so later. The disappointment of a single mistake creating a multi-day delay encouraged a very displined approach. The first personal computers in the worlds were to be manufactured within a few years. Nevertheless, I left secondary school still using a "slide rule" and Four-figure mathematical tables / G.W.C. Kaye and T.H. Laby https://library2.deakin.edu.au/record=b1427596~S1




==============================================================




technology took the next leap....

Change

I was lucky to be one of the first Australian students to be taught programming in school. In 1969, my maths teacher at Scotch College was involved with the introduction of computers at Monash University and taught my maths class Minitran. I beleive that he personally drove our punch cards to Monash and ran them through the MONECS system for us. This was 5 years before the official release of the system to secondary schools in 1974. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MONECS










During my years at Uni studying medicine and pharmacology, digital technology was not used. At home during this time we were completly content with a 12in colour(?) TV inside a bedside cupboard as our screen, and a "cassette tape" player as music storage and listening system.




My next brush with technology was at Knox Technical School (location ? ) years ? where I was teaching maths myself. In 1982, the school principal was keen to get the computers into the school and obtained funding for a very new and innovative networkable computer developed by the BBC for education https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/BBC_Micro. As the most technically literate, youngest and most enthusiastic maths teacher, I leapt at the opportunity to take charge of this project. Within a few months we had a very sophisticated network of 2 computer rooms complete with computer stands that I had designed and manufactured with the help of students. The BBC Micro ran a very sophisticated computer language called BBC Basic which, unlike standard BASIC, allowed subroutines to be called by name from anywhere in the program - a feature usually found only in higher level languages. This allowed far more flexible and interesting teaching projects to be developed.

The system also included a very sophisticated network server which "served" the computers a huge range of curriculum software whose quality compares well with many teaching programs available in 2020 ! (see graphs and green globs

In running this system for a few years, I acquired "hands on" skilsl in programming BASIC, Pascal, Fortran and knowledge of computer hardware management, networking and experience with a range of software.




I was sad to leave this technology behind when I accepted a promotion to run a teacher training network for primary teachers in Blackburn Primary School. Doubly, so when when I started work with the primitive Commodore 64 which ran on a network powered by standard audio cassettes which communicated digital data through sound that sounded like "white noise".https://youtu.be/ITfKILfsItA?t=52




In 1987(?), I was rescued from this cave via a promotion to manage the conversion of 4 portable classrooms in Parkmore Primary School into a Regional Computer Education Centre (RCEC). I got the chance to hire my own staff, design and contract the renovations, design and manufacture my own computer furniture..... but not choose the computers. The choice of the newest IBM Personal Computer, the JX, was determined by a state contract https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IBM_JX




Teacher education relating to IT was now my central area of expertise and interest.

In 19??, it, that is IT, also forced Lib and I to confronty the most important life choice of our lives.




I worked with a statewide team of RCEC managers that beleived that the state choice of the JX hardware lead to lower quality software options for education of students than the more expensive Apple computer systems.




In ???? just before muchledford




Apple offered me a job at 3 times my current salary contribute to their education design and marketing team.... in Sydney......




Lib and I thought long and hard about balancing a move to Sydney into the "fast lane" of high pay, corporate working hours, less secure employment, shorter working career followed by retirement to the country etc etc.... and most importantly and contentiously, whether and where children fitted into the picture. At last, after taking our relationship to the brink, we decided to decline the offer and and move to the country and start a family as soon as possible.




Back to IT.... Leaving the RCEC to take any Education Department job in Castlemaine, I lost all the hardware access that came with the job. I bought an Apple IIe computer with green monochrome screen and 2 5.25in floppy drives (The computer would load the operating system from one drive each time it started and then could load a program from the other drive (e.g. wordprocessor or Lady Tut) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Apple_II_games




This computer was the only computer for years and it's use was mainly email, wordporcessing and games. Internet access in those days was via sound modulated modem which was unreliable and extremely slow.




When I transferred to Castlemaine Technical College which then amalgamated with Castlemaine High School, I was teaching mathematics nearly exclusively for a few years before gaining the job of school computer coordinator.




In 199???, when we went around australia in a caravan, I had set myself the task of converting a wonderful primary school maths resource into an online activity library. Using a portable 3 line display word processor, I worked on this in spare moments duringt he whole trip. The task remains unfinished - but still worthwhile as such quality teaching activities have never been superceded.

In those days there was no access to telephone contact while trabelling, let alone the internet.




We went through a number of computers

I have always beleoved that the best price and reliability is acheived by being a few models behind the latest.




Our next computer was an Apple Macintosh??




Bought Apple mac in USA and brought home unaware of the https://www.webopedia.com/DidYouKnow/Hardware_Software/MonitorHemispheres.asp




When the limitations of the social milleux for our children drove us to move back to Melbourne, I won a job as computer manager at Cheltenham Secondary College and stayed in that role until retirement.




IT Xbox




Apple "TV"

Books and their uses

My mother was an insatiable reader. She belonged to book clubs most of her life - sometime actively involved in two at a time. Her favourite genre was biography and autobiography and piles of these tomes would be beside her bed and in various rooms.

My father rarely read for pleasure.  His favourite genre historical fact.  Nevertheless, he also accumulated many beautiful old illustrated books for their potential to inspire his team of record album designers at the World Record Club.  In about 1966, I moved all the volumes of a beaultifully illustrated nature encycloedia into my room.  I decided one of the volumes of the rarely opened set would make a good secret hideaway.  I used dad's cutting instruments (as an artist his desk was full of expensive toys whose constant dissappearance would infuriate him).  I cut a large hole through the central pages. I have no memory of what I stored in there, but about 5 years later, my father discovered this vandalism and was not amused. 

Another unanticipated outcome from my browsing the family bookshelves was the discovery of  "The Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio" and soon after "30 Droll Stories" by Balzac (based on "Les Cent Contes drolatiques".  Within the complex and verbose prose, I found, to my delight, that the stories were all about sex !  I am not sure whether mum or dad ever read them and my brothers were either not readers, or too young to penetrate the texts.  For years, I enjoyed reading from these before sleep....        

Bennetswood Primary School

Even now at 68 years, I can recapture the excitement and awe as I took my seat in grade 1 (1960, age 6) at Bennettswood State School.  

Mr Wigney's class was arranged in rows from grade 1 to 6 so that he could train teachers for rural schools in vistoria where all grades were in the same class.

The full kit of uniforn, fresh stationery and equipment for school was like experiencing a second christmas. I still love fresh stationery !  Other equipment was exciting because of unknown uses such as the compass and the map stencils. I loved creating maps with the blue sea carefully shaded all around our island.


I had been introduced to writing in Box Hill South Kindergarten.  In grade 1, with the grade 2's in the desk beside me, I set to work with determination to better myself. 
.
By April 1960, I was enjoying telling stories

I fell in love with cuisenaire and the language of maths used to describe it with a feeling similar to that I have since experienced in playing computer games or programming. A superbly logical and beautiful symbolic world where knowing and obeying the rules is always the winning strategy.

Not me, but similar to my memory. Source: A Teaching Aide that survived the 1950's

In the brutal honesty of the 1960's, acheivement had real world implications. I was soon rewarded by Mr. Wigney by swapping me with the child in front in recognition of our relative performance. 
In school uniform, eating a sandwhich in the bare backyard of 4 Ivy St, Burwood, in Dad's photoshoot for a Tip-Top bread advert.

One learning activity that still fills me with dread was the film on fire safety shown to the whole school in the darkened gym.  Instead of a dry set of priciples and procedures, I remember children falling out windows to thier deaths and then being covered with white sheets on the ground outside.  I still have a feeling of dread from this experience.  
These images seem far too frightening to show to a school group even in those days.  After looking at a number of images and movie extracts relating to the fire at Our Lady of the Angels in 1958 where 92 pupils and 3 nuns died, I think that I may have constructed my memory from some of the film and stills of this event that may have been shown on to the school on that day.

It is a reminder that all memory is constructed and that, not only have I forgotten so much from the nearly 25000 days of my life, but I have also managed to misremember some of it !
It is bizarre what memories have been retained.  At Bennetswood, there were rows of seats parallel to the building before the car park was created.  One had to jostle for space to eat lunch.  One day I jostled too enthuisiatically and dislodged a pie from the hands of a hungry pupil.  I knew there would be consequences, so without excuse or apology, I ran from the scene as fast as possible.  A few steps away, the remains of the pie that had been quickly picked up and expertly thrown, landed square in the middle ogf my back !   

Bennettswood State School main building 1960's

Out of class, before school, at recess, lunchtime and after school, there were many enticing activities that came in and out of fashion for no discernable reason.

The wads of swap cards that I took to school were nearly too big to hold and even harder to display to discerning swappers, and extract when the deal was done.  Cards depicted  everything from cats to cars, from planes to places etc.  They were fascinating in themselves, but also provided a brutal education in the pitfalls of fast negotiation.   

Not my card set but similar to my memories.

Marbles was played under the large playground pine trees where the roots acted as bench seats and the canopy dropped pine needles killing all vegetation that would have otherwise interfered with the marble roll.  "Tom bowlers", taw's, cat's eyes, aggies were played, lost and won over many hours in the dust to high emotion and much argument.
 
Not me, but similar to my memories.

I loved the 1km walk to school and home.  The house construction progress in this new suburb was constantly changing the landscape. In winter, the puddles, left by heavy wheels on nature strips, were frozen and after jumping on them, the panes of ice were fun to throw. 

One shocking day, I was approaching school, and heard the screech of brakes and a scream.  I and every one else broke into run towards the catastrophe driven by irrestistable curiosity.  Upon arriving, the crowd was so large it was hard to penentrate.  All I could see was a limp child in our school uniform and some dark blood stains on their jumper.   I cannot remember the outcome for the pupil but I am pretty sure that the intensity of the memory affected the care with which I crossed Station Street in future.

When the principal of the school died, there was no such shock or concern 

First books

My parents believed strongly in the power of reading to support learning and thus education and thus success in life.  My mother told me that I fell in love with picture books well before I could speak, and learnt to read easily and quickly.

I have no specific memories of being read to by my mother or father. Neither has my father although he is pretty sure that it happened ! It is sad that so much of the wonderful moments of childhood are not able to be recalled in adult life, but we comfort ourselves in the belief that they form a subconscious foundation belief in being loved and valued.

I was as scared as "Little Black Sambo" at the fierce tigers demanding clothes and other belongings. The tigers defeated themselved by their infighting and ended up as butter on pancakes ! 

This book was later issued as a vynl recording that Dad brought home from work at the World Record Club and included memorable songs to accompany the action. 
In this millenium, most parents would probably be afraid to be caught exposing their children to the streotypes used in the text and illustrations (while happily and subliminally replacing them with whatever were the currently acceptable stereotypes). 
  

I probably met "John and Betty" in grade 1 (age 6, 1960)

During grade 2-6 (age 7-11, 1961-1965), I began reading more and more independently and insatiably: Madeleine series (Bemelmans);  The Water Babies (Kingsley); The Borrowers (Norton); Charlotte's web (White); The Famous Five series (Blyton); The Chronicles of Narnia Series (Lewis); The Cossacks and "Save the Khan" (Bartos-Hoppner) etc etc etc.  

These titles are just some that spring immediately to mind, and some may have been read to me before I was an independent reader.  Each still evokes its particular excitement and desire to revisit - already with my children - and hopefully with my grandchildren.

Once I had mastered code of written language, the rewards were immense.  I had a ticket of entry into a seemingly limitless array of virtual worlds that have enticed me for the rest of my life.  

After being told to "go to bed" (from 1961 I had my own room), I would resume the adventure and read until I fell asleep.  The bed has been my preferred reading location all my life.  In recent decades, the text is usually displayed on my iPhone rather than on a paper page - and, as I get older, sleep interferes more quickly !

In the early 1960's. I was introduced to many major stories from Western Culture through the "Classics Illustrated" Comic Series and "The Bible in Pictures".  The effect of text integrated with illustrations made the stories vivid and easy to navigaet. I tried to sell these experiences to my children with mixed success.

My next specific remembrance of reading was in 1967 at 79 Broadway, Camberwell, during an absence from Year 7 school of many months due to glandular fever that developed from food poisoning caused by eating cabana from Camberwell market on the way home from school.  
During these months, I devoured books provided from school.  The most memorable memory is of reading the Hobbit followed by The Lord of the Rings trilogy by JRR Tolkein. I remember finishing the final pages of the final book on a "literally" dark and stormy night to the accompaniment of thunderclaps !!! I tried the Hobbit on Lucy but the attack of the spiders gave her a powerful hallucinogenic nightmare so I don't think we persisted. From 2001, I was privileged to enjoy the movie version both directly and vicariously to enjoy the movie version with Lucy and Sam with parts released each "boxing" day.

My wife, Lib, and I recognised the importance of encouraging and assisting our children to be skilled readers who love to read.  Unlike the learning of spoken language, there are no natural genetic structures to help the child, making parents so crucial.  We are delighted that our children made the most of this immense but intangible gift, and are passing on the same culteral advantage to our grandchildren.


Memory

My memory allows full sequential replay for a few days back.  Go back a few weeks and the snippets are frequent but the continuity is gone. The surviving memories - images, sounds, and sometimes smells - become gradually fewer and fewer the further back I journey. 

The memory "film" of my first 5 years has faded to white, with only a few seemingly random images, sounds, smells and feelings remaining.  Perhaps they are significant. Perhaps they are merely memorable.  Nevertheless, their rarity makes these explicit memories precious... to me.

This is not to say that these snippets are reliable or unchangeable .... just that they are vibrant and evocative to me.

One memories that "feels" ancient and occurs in a freezing room is just being alone in bed, under the covers with a torch.  My  mother beleived that this memory was recorded at "The Shingles", Prey Heath Rd, Woking, England where we lived for a year or so when I was about 3 years old.  




Why is this memory so clear .... and so alone ? I cannot remember any other factor contributing to the memory.  No sense of guilt (staying up too late?  pinch the torch ?).  No-one there with me. 

Another memory presumed to be from this winter is the spectacle of milk emerging from the top of a frozen milk bottle delivered to our door.


Consid all the sights and sounds of a trip across the world in an ocean liner to London, and later, the English countryside.  I cannot remember anything of that trip other than these two images.  How frustrating.

It seems that these memories alone, by chance or unknown significant escaped the active culling of memory that is especially intense in the first 5 years of life.  I would love to be able to accurately replay an real time movie of my life.  As one grew older with this ability, past memories would accumulate until the temptation to replay the past could distract from dealing with the opresent and future. This may be one of the reasons that these memories are actively eliminated.

Leunig - Present past future



   

Snippets of my life: Why bother ?

Recollections ? Why bother ?  Answer: the desire to speak to my children, my grandchildren and anyone else about the inherently unique experience of life.  

I have enjoyed writing and recording snippets of my live and the lives of others since I was about 10.  My grandmother, Edith Pardy was my first subject.  Although my mother was formal and stilted in her mother's presence, she was immensely proud of Gran's many acheivements such as founding member of the Liberal Party of Australia, creator and main organiser of the Victorian Mental Health Auxiliaries.  I was left in Gran's care much more often than my brothers, and Mum encouraged me to ask her about her acheivements and life experiences.  Gran would take me to mental health facilities such as the Kew Asylum not soley as an observor but as an attraction and distraction for the inmates who would call out or rush forward to touch this scared 10 year old. Gran was gentle and mischevious, but could also assume the voice of command if things got out of hand.  As she warmed to my questions, I knew that I would not remember her answers accurately, so I used my treasured cassette recorder to make tapes of her story.  

Soon, my grandfather was vying for attention, and I made recordings, photographs and notes of his stilted account of the Prussian section of his ancestry which he considered the most prestigious.

Thus commenced, at 11 years of age, a life long sporadic hobby of recording family history information.  As the family history records expanded, I realised that the personal anecdotal recollections were the true gems in a sea of births, death and marraiges.  These gems were hard to extract and often depreciated by their authors, but they provided the flavour and colour that brought the past alive.

It is such snippets that I am attempting to bring together here.

I have not attempted an autobiography.  Apart from being much more work, I see autobiographies as creating a false sense that life is a coherence story.  My experience is of life is episodic and random -dominated by luck (for me and my family, overwhelming good luck).  I feel my life is not following any story arc.

I did keep a diary for a number of years from 1969 (Age 15) but it's use became sporadic and stopped in 1978 (Age 24).  The purpose of this closely guarded secret document was to tell the story completely from my perspective to myself in the future. As me in the present, I have occassionally sampled it (especially when dealing with my own adoescent children) and found it and embarrassing but sometimes enlightening read. 

So I choose to let loose a random collection of snippets chosen for their ability to spontaneously pop into my head. I hope that they survive long enough to bring an insight or just a smile on a family member or a stranger.



My parents believed strongly in the power of reading to support learning and thus education and thus success in life.  My mother told me that I fell in love with picture books well before I could speak, and learnt to read easily and quickly.  I can't remember.  My implicit memories of infancy and childhood are foundational but subconscious.  

My memory allows full sequential replay for a few days back.  Go back a few weeks and the snippets are frequent but the continuity is gone. The surviving memories - images, sounds, and sometimes smells - become gradually fewer and fewer the further back I journey. 

The memory "film" of my first 5 years has faded to white, with only a few seemingly random images remaining.  Perhaps they are significant. Perhaps they are merely memorable.  Nevertheless these explicit memories are precious to me because of a universal measure of value - rarity.      

I was as scared as "Little Black Sambo", as fierce tigers demanded clothes and other belongings. The tigers defeated themselved by their infighting and ended up as butter on pancakes ! 
This book was later issued as a vynl recording that Dad brought home from work at the World Record Club and included memorable songs to accompany the action. 
In this millenium, most parents would probably be afraid to be caught exposing their children to the streotypes used in the text and illustrations (while happily and subliminally replacing them with whatever were the currently acceptable stereotypes). 
  

I probably met "John and Betty" in grade 1 (age 6, 1960 at Bennettswood State School).  I can feel my sense of excitement and awe as I took my seat in grade 1.  Mr Wigney's class was arranged in rows from grade 1 to 6 to mimic a rural school so that he could train teachers.  Soon, I moved one desk forward in recognition of my acheivements.  The next year I moved sideways to Grade 2.  Later, I read of Mr. Wigney as a renowned and remarkable teacher which confirmed my memories.

During grade 2-6 (age 7-11 1961-1965), I began reading more and more independently and insatiably: Madeleine series (Bemelmans);  The Water Babies (Kingsley); The Borrowers (Norton); Charlotte's web (White); The Famous Five series (Blyton); The Chronicles of Narnia Series (Lewis); The Cossacks and "Save the Khan" (Bartos-Hoppner) etc etc etc.  

These titles are just some that spring immediately to mind, and each still evokes its particular excitement and desire to revisit - already with my children - and hopefully with my grandchildren.

Once I had mastered code of written language, the rewards were immense.  I had a ticket of entry into a seemingly limitless array of virtual worlds.  After being told to "go to bed" (from 1961 I had my own room), I would resume the adventure and read until I fell asleep.  The bed has been my preferred reading location all my life.  In recent decades, the text is usually displayed on my iPhone rather than on a paper page - and, as I get older, sleep interferes more quickly !

My wife, Lib, and I recognised the importance of encouraging and assisting our children to be skilled readers who love to read.  Unlike the learning of spoken language, there are no natural genetic structures to help the child, making parents so crucial.  We are delighted that our children made the most of this immense but intangible gift, and are passing on the same culteral advantage to our grandchildren.



In the moment with COVID-19

Every school morning, my brother John and I would escape the cocoon of 4 Ivy St, Burwood and set off towards Ely Road. 

I remember vividly, the carefree childhood saunter where each foot was thrown forward in the approximate direction of travel while the schoolbag was swung in exploratory arcs that sometimes surprised others or oneself.  

Every morning was the start of an adventure and any option for meandering was to be taken. There was usually at least one house under construction somewhere along our street as suburbia smothered the Burwood fields.  Here were places to explore and things to pull, wield or throw. 

 At 6, I did not worry about destinations or deadlines.  Responsibility was not in my vocabulary. I was “in the moment” and scanned the world with the eyes of a tourist.  Somedays, there would be puddles to throw rocks into. On freezing mornings, panes of ice could be smashed. I was constantly scanning for objects to squash, scuff, pick up or throw. The freedom from adults was intoxicating.