June McGrane (30 June 1932 – 21 May 2021) shares details about life in Griffith when the second world war raged, 1939-45
She remembers the trenches dug at the high school and air raid drills, as well as a bomb shelter built in the site now known as Memorial Gardens.
One remarkable recollection is the concern of locals for the real possibility of an invasion by the Japanese after the bombing of Darwin, because there was only one place in Australia where they grew rice!
June was a long-serving volunteer at Griffith Pioneer Park Museum, where this interview was filmed during February 2017.
I'm grateful for the love of my family, particularly my partner of 23 years: Jo
This morning my Facebook Memories had this post and it's illustrated with a graphic she published to my profile yesterday:
In last night's subconsciousnews I dreamed that the vibrational field created by Jason and my love for one another was so powerful that it spread throughout the entire Universe in all directions of space and time.
It was so significant an event that it was taught as history in text/books on other planets, and also anecdotally in the form of oral myths and stories passed down the generations among all sentient beings.
Recently Naviar Records called for contributions to appear in an exhibition in Japan
Marco wrote that his inspiration came from the Ainu, Japan's indigenous people, in his email to the Naviar community:
I've been working on this installation for a week now, studying and collecting sounds from my local environment, learning and understanding more about where my culture comes from. To someone who's been in contact with indigenous cultures all their life, this might seem like a childish game; however, for me, it's been an enlightening experience.
It brought to mind a project that I started to write songs reflecting my own heritage, which began around the time of Anzac Day and was inspired by the idea of that event being Australia's version of an ancestor celebration.
My contribution is a draft of one of those songs, drawing on the history of the Wanderer butterfly in Australia.
The lyrics are:
From foreign skies it came, A fire-bright drift in golden flame— On cyclonic winds, torn and tossed, Somehow carried life across, After this flight over the seas. A stranger turned sovereign by the breeze, In the year 1871, Met the blush of Antipodean sun.
On winds of fate, it crossed the sea, A monarch's flight to lands so free. From foreign shores to Sydney's light, The Wanderer took its maiden flight.
Milkweed bloomed—a bitter crown, Bred the brood in orange gown. Wings like stained glass kissed by fire, A tale of travel, cocooned desire. Not born of bush or Dreamtime's lore, Arrived at a eucalyptus shore. An exile once, now a monarch of air, This Wanderer dances on blooms with care.
The rationale for this symbol is:
In my backyard is a mint plant that I hoped might grow to replace my lawn. Many butterflies land on the flowers when it blooms.
I started researching their varieties as I began photographing them and became interested in the Wanderer, which is the Australian version of the Monarch in the Americas. It has distinctive white spots on a black body and magnificent wings coloured like autumnal leaves.
This type of butterfly arrived in Australia around the time my father's great-grandparents migrated here. It is thought it may have been blown here by a cyclone, but found the imported milkweed plant that supports Monarch caterpillars and was able to survive.
My parents were both born in North America, so I've come to adopt the Wanderer as a symbol for my cultural identity.
I've performed the song using a ukulele, as it is an instrument from the Pacific – the ocean that unites Australia, Japan and the USA.
And the bio I've provided is something I'm going to add here (mostly for future reference, sorry for appearing kinda bigheaded but it's my blog hey!):
With a focus on the Riverina landscape, Jason’s interdisciplinary art spans text, digital media, and community-driven initiatives, including his work with Naviar Records' Crossing Streams exhibition and Red Earth Ecology. As a writer and musician under the pseudonym Bassling, he has contributed to online music magazine Cyclic Defrost, won the Murrumbidgee Short Story competition, and collaborated internationally on projects like the Shinobi Cuts Remix Chain.
And in Japanese:
ジェイソン・リチャードソン（オーストラリア） ジェイソン・リチャードソンは、オーストラリア・リヴェライナ地方の風景を軸に、言葉とデジタル表現、そして地域コミュニティとともに行う創作活動を横断的に展開しているアーティストである。 Naviar Records の「Crossing Streams」展や Red Earth Ecology などのプロジェクトを通じて、自然と文化、個人と土地との関係を探求してきた。
Happy to see my name among the contributors to the Cities and Memory installation at the Barbican Centre in London
There you can hear the dawn chorus at Leeton's Fivebough Wetland, a location which is also part of a project that Red Earth Ecology are developing for a local primary school next month.
I made this role-playing game for a math-based exercise in my teaching
The idea is to use a six-sided dice to roll to pick your critters' super powers, then roll a second time for how many iterations.
Such as rolling 2 for extra heads, then rolling 3 for three of them to draw onto the figure.
This super power bonus (+3 for heads) is noted when you roll for attack, then is added to the other figure to tally each critter's energy.
Each round you must roll higher than your opponent's attack roll and roll below your defend score to avoid them, until energy drops below 0.
The attack roll has the super power bonus added to increase likelihood, and these two numbers form the damage taken from your opponent's energy if they don't avoid it.
Games last 3-6 rounds, take about 10 minutes and benefit from creative descriptions of the action.
I should probably incorporate the rules of gameplay into the design of the sheet, but that will wait for another draft.
Despite the rush to return to crowded venues and the low numbers of people maintaining their immunisations.
Studies are presenting shocking results of the impact of the coronavirus on our bodies, such as this one.
Interestingly, the persistent cognitive impairment appears to be contained almost exclusively to the right hemisphere.
This means if you have lasting cognitive issues from long COVID they will affect your intuition, creativity and emotional reasoning more than your ability to do math or memorise prose, for example.
Along with the rise of AI, I wonder how this will play in the spheres of artistic production.
Australia's compulsory electoral voting system means most adults* have to play a role
In previous elections this provided an opportunity for the schools selected to host AEC voting centres, as everyone nearby would visit their hall on the nominated Saturday.
This led to the pheomena of "democracy sausage," where voters would be enticed to buy processed meat wrapped in white bread and slathered with tomato sauce.
However, recent elections have seen a massive shift in voting behaviour as people choose to get their electoral duties out of the way ahead of time.
As a result, the schools' P&C committees no longer run fundraising like cake stalls and sausage sizzles.
It's a remarkable shift in Australian suburban culture that reflects the growing isolation of individuals, as they shun community groups like P&Cs and no longer linger outside the school hall to catch-up with locals.
Six years ago I predicted the demise of "democracy sausage" when I posted this meme on Facebook and, while the recent election result was an improvement on previous years, it is surprising to see there were no sausage sizzles on my path to the voting booth last week.
* -- I acknowledge that not all adult Australians will vote, and it's not just the "donkeys" as prisoners and some of those serving in the armed forces or police will avoid having their name on the electoral roll.
Some time ago I read there is a percentage of boys who will not listen to a woman when there is a man present.
It always seemed sorta ridiculous, yet somehow plausible given the rife nature of sexism.
Recently I've been on a placement in my teacher training and ended up in a kindergarten class.
I asked the teacher if she had seen this phenomenon of boys ignoring female teachers.
Her experience was having a student repeatedly give her a blank look, until the male gardener walked over to repeat her words and this boy responded to her instruction.
So I offered my services to be a mansplainer to the boys.
Captain John Foulkes Richardson was the first of my father's family to be born in Australia and both my Grandad and Dad share his name
Today I reflect that my great-grandfather was wounded leading a charge at Gallipoli and then, after recovering, was sent to the Somme.
The latter was one of bloodiest and most futile battles, as Australia lost over 23,000 men and gained very little ground against German troops in muddy trenches.
He enlisted on 28 Sep 1914 for AIF WW1, as Captain of the 15th Infantry Battalion, Brisbane, Queensland.
This photo shows him in the centre prior to embarkation on 22 Dec 1914.
Wounded on 27 Apr 1915. Promoted on 29 May 1915 to rank of Major, 15th Infantry Battalion, then discharged on 10 Nov 1915.
He enlisted again on 1 Jan 1918, which led to his role in France during WWI, then signed up again for WWII on 28 Dec 1939.
He didn't fight in WWII -- presumably because he was 55 years old.
Lately I've been playing with machine-learning services again and it turns out that they're great for quickly scaffolding lyrics
As a result I've been singing and playing ukulele a lot more, but that might also have to do with six weeks of teaching primary school kids to strum that instrument.
Yesterday the surf was too rough to do much on the beach, so I began playing with ideas.
It's my 23rd anniversary and I have been joking about romantic tropes, such as the role of cupids.
Since my partner likes joking about innuendo sounding like an innuendo, I made her a song and then recorded it.
However, as I only have the microphone on my camera for audio, I got carried away trying to make the recording work and it really doesn't have the quality -- in either performance or fidelity.
I wasn’t sure how to feel about seeing Ned Kelly in kids book
Part of me recognises that one can't judge history with contemporary standards, but another part wonders if he was a thug.
The moral of the story seemed to be how helmets distance people from those who love them, so maybe things might've been different if Ned had this book when he was young!
Caravan remains one of the defining jazz standards and has a remarkable history
First recorded in 1936 and becoming one of the best-known songs by Duke Ellington’s band, it originated with the trombonist Juan Tizol.
Among his contributions to the band was a role copying parts from scores, as well as composing.
Tizol often played a valve trombone and, as a Puerto Rican, brought some of that Latin American influence which can be heard in 20th Century jazz.
Mercer Ellington said the melody to ‘Caravan’ was suggested to Tizol through a technique called “inverting” that re-interpreted scores by reading the sheet music upside-down.
It remains one of the most-covered songs in history with over 500 versions published.
My favourite is possibly one of the most controversial.
The bassist Charles Mingus was also a member of the Ellington band and unleashed a version of the song during the fiery recordings for the “Money Jungle” album.
Mingus plays a rhythm part high up the neck that seems to force Ellington into the position of playing the melody in lower octaves.
It’s wild how the conventions of the standard ‘Caravan’ are thrown by Mingus taking the lead.
When I first heard it my mind was blown.
Then recently I read Mingus’ autobiography and gained a new appreciation for his bold playing.
It turns out that Mingus left Ellington’s band after Tizol lunged at him with a knife for the bassist’s playing of ‘Caravan’:
“…this is the band you don’t quit, but this time you’re asked to leave because of an incident with a trombone player and arranger named Juan Tizol. Tizol wants you to play a solo he’s written where bowing is required. You raise the solo an octave, where the bass isn’t too muddy. He doesn’t like that and he comes to the room under the stage where you’re practising at intermission and comments that you’re like the rest of the n****** in the band, you can’t read. You ask Juan how he’s different from the other n****** and he states that one of the ways he’s different is that HE IS WHITE. So you run his ass upstairs. You leave the rehearsal room, proceed toward the stage with your bass and take your place and at the moment Duke Ellington brings down the baton for ‘A-Train’ and the curtain of the Apollo Theatre goes up, a yelling, whooping Tizol rushes out and lunges at you with a bolo knife.”
The following passage where Mingus describes how Ellington asks for his resignation has been seen as documenting his considerable charm.
Yesterday was a good day as I joined two art classes in my role at a primary school
One of those was the "special education" class, which brings together neurodivergent students.
I had sketched my submarine when the girl next to me said "Wow, are you an artist?"
It was a question that I thought about briefly, before remembering to say "yes."
Maybe it was because my role at the time was "paraprofessional," which is vague and I mostly follow the teacher's directions in art classes.
At other times I've described myself as an evangelist for creativity, as I think more people need to recognise the diverse benefits from having a creative practise or three.
This morning I was pondering my reluctance to accept the title of "artist" yesterday, reminding myself that I've had exhibitions and won prizes.
It really is important to raise the profile of the arts and validate the activity for others, I think.
As the art lesson progressed this student shared that her mother was an artist who sometimes made collages and other assembled artworks.
Then, nearer the end of the lesson, she said quietly "I'm a bit of an artist" and it was the conversion that I realised one should be working toward.
As an artist it is my responsibility to help others see the artist in their activities.
Looking through the card from a camera and realised this memory wasn't mine
After recognising the subject and setting, my mind ran through observations about the time of year based on the angle of light and then confirming the layers of clothing suggested it would be winter or early spring.
Then I wondered why it surprised me as much as it did?
There's an intimacy in a selfie and looking in on a scene, a kind of voyeurism that I don't think about enough to feel guilty for it.
The thing I liked most, I decided after sifting through a mess of emotions, is the lighting of the eye.
Jo's irises were one of the first things I remember about her and still give me a thrill to read their grey-blue intentions.
Some days it's like looking at the sea and seeing something leap from the sparkle.
In 1990 Eugene Stoner (left, with his M16) met Mikhail Kalashnikov (right, with his AK-47). They traveled together and became friends. In many of the world’s wars since 1965, the two guns were on opposite sides.
The US-made M16 had a reputation through the Vietnam conflict for jamming, while the AK-47 had a cartridge so solid that it was used by soldiers as a hammer.
The M16 routinely left the rifleman defenseless. In May 1967, one Marine wrote to his family: "We left with 250 men in our company and came back with 107. We left with 72 men in our platoon and came back with 19. Believe it or not, you know what killed most of us? Our own rifle. We were all issued this new rifle, the M16. Practically every one of our dead was found with his rifle torn down next to him where he had been trying to fix it.”
If you’ve paid any attention to Australia’s purchase of F35 fighter jets, then you’ll likely recognise how the MI6 overcame technical shortcomings to flood the battlefield with such uselessness through marketing and tradeshows.
According to former US Marine officer C.J. Chivers, author of The Gun, “The M16’s journey was marked by salesmanship, sham science, cover-ups, chicanery, incompetence, and no small amount of dishonesty by a gun manufacturer and senior American military officers.”
As the Trump government are reshaping the New World Order, it's a good time to reconsider Australia's desire to be a Deputy to the US' Sherriff.
The teacher was talking about Van Gogh and drifted from talking about him painting sunflowers as a gift to cutting off his ear, which I seem to remember was also gifted?
In a tutorial we read this paper that listed the Country it was written about as an author
It's one of those ideas that's exciting to an academic (definition: scholarship), yet seems a bit academic to a broader audience (definition: not of practical relevance).
I'm still collecting my thoughts, so at this point I'm probably simultaneously excited and not relevant.
Another thing that was interesting about the tutorial was the Acknowledgment of Country was done in Irish and reflected on that connection with the landscape.
It reminded me that the closest I feel to a sense of co-becoming is asking the Country if I can proceed.
I imagine that is like my Celtic forebears reciting ancient words to stir yeast when cooking or brewing with the belief the bread or beer will be flat if I don't.
There’s been a lot of sleep over the weekend, as well as exercise and good meals.
It’s when I begin reflecting on watching a couple of films that I realise.
This weekend is the first this year that all of my children have been at home.
That weird sense of ease and everything being where it’s meant to be?
Yeah, totally.
As much as I love seeing my children becoming their own adults living on campus in Canberra, it really soothed an itch that I hadn’t identified by having them in their own bedrooms for a few nights.
I can see where the ideological lines became drawn like a generation gap, as well as the sense that they had in some ways left home before they moved out.
I also get to breathe in the culture they breathe in another place, by consuming the music and movies and ick as it sounds — breathing in their beautiful young biomes.
That sense of balance is an exchange and I am grateful for it.
It seems like gender schema is getting stronger each day
When these signs appeared at my pool this season, I thought it would only be a matter of time before someone realised the letters peel off.
So far the GIRLS sign is largely intact.
Yet the BOYS sign outside the female toilets and showers has clearly benefited from the stronger fingernails of the fairer sex.
Judging by comments from mothers, this vandalism can be seen as a deliberate message for council.
Many women have observed that their six-year old boy would struggle to get out of swimmers on his own, or would take ages and necessitate the mother yelling instructions outside for the duration.
And, while thinking about being a man, this gem reappeared in my Facebook Memories this week.
The phrase "thoughts and prayers" has become a punchline but increasingly I have faith in their potential
One of my favourite prayers resurfaced in my Facebook Memories today and I thought I'd publish it here with attribution, so that I don't lose track of it.
"I release my parents from the feeling that they have failed with me. I release my children from the need to make me proud, so that they can write their own ways, according to their hearts. I release my partner from the obligation to make me feel complete. I lack nothing in myself. I learn with all the beings that surround me through all time. I thank my grandparents and ancestors who met so that today I breathe life. And I release them from the faults of the past and from the wishes they did not fulfill, aware that they did the best they could to resolve their situations, within the consciousness they had at that moment. I honor them, I love them, and I recognize their innocence. I bare my soul before their eyes and that is why they know that I do not hide or owe anything, more than being faithful to myself and my own existence walking with the wisdom of the heart. I am aware that I am fulfilling my life project, free of visible and invisible family loyalties that may disturb my peace and my happiness, which are my greatest responsibilities. I renounce the role of savior, of being the one who unites or who fulfills the expectations of others. And learning through love, I bless my essence and my way of expressing, although there may be someone who cannot understand me. I understand myself, because only I lived and experienced my story; because I know myself, I know who I am, what I feel, what I do and why I do it. I respect and approve. I honor the Divinity in me and in you... We are free.”
(This ancient blessing was created in the Náhuatl language in the central region of Mexico, which deals with forgiveness, affection, detachment and liberation.)
[note from Wild Open: we have not been able to verify of the claims about culture of origin are true.]
After years of enjoying Bond movies it looks like the brand has been undermined from within
That's the key news in the resolution of the squabble between the Broccoli family, whose production deal oversaw all those great films, and Amazon Prime, who thought they bought ownership of the franchise with the MGM catalogue.
It is sad to see that in real life the billionaires win, given that Amazon Prime is owned by an increasingly villainous-appearing member of the megarich who has undermined journalistic integrity and pointlessly flown rockets at great environmental cost.
I'm surprised more hasn't been made of this outcome, particularly after Bond was killed off in the last movie.
The one thing that might persuade me otherwise is if they now develop a decent series that explores how Bond was recruited by MI6, possibly drawing on the long history of spies being drawn from elite British universities to reveal how blindsided that country is to recognising merit outside of socioeconomic demography.
It's interesting to me how quickly the discussion of AI shifts
As a teaching student I have seen big changes within less than a year.
When
I started studying the uni warned me from using AI for any assignments.
They said I'd be caught and get a big word like plagiarism thrown at
me. So I couldn't help but cheekily use screenshots from Google in my
essay that showed their AI-based summaries of relevant definitions.
Then
last year the NSW Department of Education brought in an AI service to
help teachers draft comments about students for their reports.
I
began to wonder how the uni could continue to warn teaching students
from using AI, seeing as they need to train people to take roles in a
profession that has moved toward this technology.
This term the
lecturers started saying we could use AI, but only as a tool to clarify
thinking and structure ideas. At this rate I’ll be able to hand in an
AI-written assignment by the end of my degree!
Not so fast, Jason.
A recent report found that AI worked best when “finding and summarising
information, generating meeting minutes, knowledge management and
drafting content.” This report for the Department of the Treasury
describes those as “basic administrative tasks.”
It's still
early in my degree so I expect to be writing assignments for a while
yet, but clearly this tool will become more important in what remains of
my working career.
