The life of a daredevil is never easy. Cliffs on one side; rocks, sharks and God knows what else on the other…
It’s a good thing that Henry has nerves of steel.
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
Comments
HENRY! be very careful...as you face the elements, sharks, and only God knows what else!!!! lol!
"It’s a good thing that Henry has nerves of steel."
Oh! Yes, he is..."fearless!
Thanks, for sharing the quote that rings so very true!
DeeDee ;-D
Often people ask, "how can you do this?" You have to learn to live with the risk, grow in the risk. And naturally children do that. Look for your limits, stretch your limits.
Kris, who is the autor?
I think, I have to post it one time.
DeeDee, it is a very scary world.
Carola, Jawaharlal Nehru is the one I'd read it from, but Alexander the Great is recorded as having said something similar too.
I hope you did, or will, see my Jerusalem ANZAC Day commemoration posts a few days ago. Even here we do not forget.
Shalom to you all.
ANZAC Day with the survivors of WWI was always something of a day of bitterness to some, and this was always encapsulated by the prominence of the notion of the ‘futility of war’. Surely this is apt. Really, what event in Australia's history demonstrates more aptly the bloody-minded futility and unreserved waste of war than the miserable (and utterly futile) diversionary campaign in the Dardanelles?
Forgive me for thinking that what blokes like my grandfather – who served in WWI and whose father died in WWI – meant was that such days were about realising that war is a stupid, vain exercise and more often than not, not worth the sacrifice. Forgive me for thinking that such days were once about denouncing the notion of war as an appropriate means to resolve dispute. It was about reminding us what war is really like, and what the costs actually are.
That’s what ANZAC Day is supposed to be about in my eyes. Making sure that we remember what war is truly like. Remembering the sacrifice, absolutely. But also about remembering the true costs of war, reminding ourselves about the reality of war, and really and truthfully thinking about whether or not such costs are worth it.