Feeling thankful

Social Meg
Apr 25, 2016
2 min read

I spent my early childhood living in Melbourne, attending pre-school (kindergarten) in the city; and then attending Princes Hill Primary School and Elsternwick Primary Schools, before my mum dragged my sister and I up to Queensland with husband number 2.

While mum was a wild child and my dad, completely disengaged; these early years in Melbourne fuelled my soul and respect for all of our elders; who helped forged Australia to what it is today.

In the 70's the Victorian curriculum was so rich in honouring tradition: one of my strongest memories was learning about Australian early settlement; our gold rushes and our rebellions through the eyes of Tom Roberts and Fredrick McCubbin and Arthur Streeton. (It saddens me that the same things haven't been taught to my children).

While we didn't touch much on Aboriginal history; living in Carlton taught me a strong sense of acceptance: as we were little white Australians.... a minority group in our local population filled with many, many Italians and Greeks.

My mother and her family also gifted me with a strong sense of belonging: my pop was a pioneer of Kinglake, but banked (and drank) in Carlton.

Someone in the family also built the little terrace house that we lived in Pigdeon St (354 with the vegemite door); which was owned by pop; along with the two next door. I remember my nan showing me a picture of the terrace house across the road, in a bare paddock...... with no development around it all.

The Victorian Shrine of Remembrance dominated the city landscape in Melbourne and was a firm backdrop to growing up in this beautiful City. I felt that I was lucky to have it in my playground and have strong memories of tiptoeing through the Shrine both on formal and informal outings with school and family.

On this day, I also remember my great Uncle Jack, who returned from war with a missing leg. A memory that I have is my mother drilling me not to be fearful of him and his missing leg, on visits with him.... I vaguely remember the man, but vividly remember the photo of him, on proud display in his home; as a young man in uniform: handsome, proud, hopeful.

I love that on ANZAC day, we stop to honour, remember, mourn and celebrate those who have and continue to put their life on the line for us.