Skip to main content

The most costly of all follies is to believe passionately in the palpably not true. It is the chief occupation of mankind.


No, it isn't the Battleship Potemkin, it's a little navy patrol boat turning its back to the Aurora Australis in a nice golden morning sunshine. It's almost like a duel.

I found myself the other evening repeating a familiar refrain I am sure is not simply one from my childhood: "how dare you sit there an not eat any of that food there it's good food nice food lovingly cooked and there are starving children in Africa who are stuck eating rocks and dirt just to have something in their tummy because they are so hungry that it hurts so much that they eat those rocks and dirt and here you are telling me that you don't want it."

I want to know, what did people tell their kids in generations before? Did they riff on Africa as my parents did, referring to the poor bloated Ethiopians routinely on the nightly news at that point (occasionally chucking in the odd outdated reference to Biafrans or Bangladeshis)?

Comments

Doc said…
My parents always told me there were kids starving in Australia, but we didn't have a TV or a radio, not to mention we didn't get out much.

I hope they aren't starving now.

Doc
KL said…
Coming to your blog after a long time. Absolutely stunning color and picture...you definitely should open a photography business.
KL said…
Wooooooowwwwwwwww.......it seems like both Henry and Ez have grown big!!!! Ez can now stand :-O..........i must have been away from your blog for a loooooooonggggggggg time.....
Tash said…
Wow-wow-wow!!! Magnificent photograph!
Biafrans (wherever that was) in the '60s.
In 3rd/4th grade, I had to prep my own breakfast (2 eggs already placed in a pan ready to fry up) - and I'd chuck them down the loo cuz I didn't want to eat them. My dad caught on soon, and I got a severe scolding about throwing away food that cost a lot of money. No recollection of starving anyone for that lecture.
yamini said…
My parents didnt go that far coz when I was growing up (during the 80s) the situation in the country was not much good. So my parents had examples from India itself to force me to gobble up whatever mom cooked.
Babzy.B said…
Your shot is stunning ,the reflection is awesome !
Roddy said…
Having come along one generation after the great depression it was always emphasised that there were people far worse off than we were, so don't waste what was given. I guess it came down to naming those who didn't have as much as we. It still irks me to see waste. Sorry!
I like the contrasts in this photo. Also the impressionable Silos behind the Aurora Australis.
Valerie said…
Fantastic picture. I was always chastised for not eating food when children were starving in India and Africa. That was like a million years ago and still they starve.
"There are poor, starving children in China who would love to eat that food!"
That was in the 60's.
lemon said…
I would not believe it, that parents in Tasmania say the same thing as parents in Greece do..!!

My parents, born on 1932, were about 8 during the second WW. A lot of people starved to death those dark years, and my parents continued to live with not enough food until 1965.
So, all people of their generation in Greece do value olive oil very much, they put a (disgusting!) amount of oil in the food, and try to feed children until they become reeeeally fat!
Example: I have two little nieces, thin and modern, but my mom believes that my sister does not feed them well enough..!!!
Kris McCracken said…
Thanks all.

My new line is: "you don't even have to go to Africa to find poor little kiddies going without. Right here in Tasmania there are negligent parents who don't do right by their kids and here you are just spitting right in their faces!"

Popular posts from this blog

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.