Music and smells, they take you back.

Tonight on XFactor the Jim Morrison-Nick Cave hybrid dude sang The Power Of Love.

One moment I was on the couch with The Silverback and The Evil Geniuses, and the next I was lying on the spare mattress at Lissy’s house pressing Play/Pause/Play on the Pye cassette player, over and over again to write down the words to Frankie’s version of that same song. In the days before iTunes and Goog, that was how we figured out the lyrics, unless we were lucky enough to have a Brashs gift voucher stored up to purchase the actual record, with liner notes and (hopefully) the words, rather than a pirated TDK-60 tape of the album.

Lissy and I were future songwriters- quite possibly the Lennon/McCartney of our generation. She was Paul of course- that girl had a mighty voice, even back then, so I was John- whiney, nasally, and not all that pleasant to listen to, but I could sometimes turn a phrase or two. It is a shame and a crime that none of our recordings have survived, as our version of Kids In America was second only to our fabulous Wham Rap (yes, I still know all the words). We were magnificent back then in the 80s, with our confidence as big as both our hair, and our appetites for Rasin Toast and Super Sippers (Sing it: When you’re sippin’ all day long on a super Super Sipper), and only slightly smaller than our plastic clown earrings and shoulder pads.

Yes, I still have records. Oh well.

By 1984, we had finally tired of This Is Not A Love Song and were ready for a new challenge. Enter: Frankie Goes To Hollywood and The Power Of Love.

1984 was the year we stepped up our musical talents. No more would we just learn the songs verbatim and sing them endlessly and repeatedly and did I mention endlessly, until her brother would come screaming at us to: STOP WITH THE SAME SONG OVER AND OVER AGAIN YOU LITTLE IDIOTS. No, this was the birth of a new era. Something the kids of today call a parody.

It felt like much more than a parody though. We felt like the chick who wrote that hideous fanfic 50 Shades Of Grey must have felt- we were convinced we were creating something unique and beautiful. A tribute, yes, but a hit in its own right. Something that would make us millions, and most likely get us invited to a Frankie show, probably to appear as the secret climax of the evening. Laws knows we looked the part. No one had more Portmans colour co-ordinated fluro accessories than us.

Thirty years have dulled my memory somewhat, but I can still remember some of the adapted lyrics:

The power of rips, A force from the waves, Dragging me out. Something something something. Make surfing, Your goal.

I know, right?

How are we not millionaires, or at least, insanely famous?

I guess it’s just the way of the biz. A mystery, and a loss. To music-kind.

Before you get too upset, I might have forgotten to mention that in Year 10, my singing talents became widely known. I started up at a new school, and some of my friends were part of the school choir. Knowing how great my vocal range was, I went along one day, thinking I might bag myself a spot in the school musical. I’d heard that the guy who played Kenicke (and had pashed Rizzo for real) the year before might be up for another round. The play was called The Boyfriend, so that sounded all kinds of perfect to put some of the tips I’d picked up from Dolly Magazine to the test.

Anyway, I went to choir and I sang my little heart out, giving Miss both barrels of my repertoire: the startling high notes and the booming lows. After a while Miss pulled me aside, and I just knew she was going to ask me to be the new soloist.

“Ummm, Alison, you’re quite good at sport, aren’t you dear?”

“Yes Miss, sure am. Netty, softball, swimming, aths, I’m pretty good at all of ’em. And now this, singing too, so yeah, an all-rounder I guess,” I giggled a little in what I thought was a self-deprecating way, just so she would know I was also humble.

“Ahhh, yes, well, an all-rounder yes. It’s just that I hear they really need you in the, um, sports, so I’m thinking perhaps you’d be better served supporting the school in the, er, sports.”

What a lovely lady. Putting her entire school musical at risk, just to help out the sporting teams. What great school spirit. I can’t remember our school motto, but it surely must have been something like “Sacrifice one, for the good of all.”

Well played Miss.

The Power of Music, eh?

What songs take you back?

Have you penned a parody? Or been kicked out of choir?

…From The Ashers

Here are the hits from a full week (see what I did there?):

1. The full moon.

We had a great view from our deck until the clouds came over at the vital moment of eclipsing. As far as we could tell there was no “blood”- moonie looked the same colour as usual to me- but we still had fun sitting up there and talking about what things we were going to release from our lives.

Liam said he wanted to get  rid of bullying, in all of the world, not just for kids at school. I like the sound of that. Not a bad plan for a better world.

Coco said she would release herself from PKD and homework.

I, of course had a list of limiting beliefs and things I want to improve on.

Nath, as is his wont, said nothing.

2. This little blackboard jotting by Coco. Cool huh?

3. Fun on the Top Deck (also known as Bar Up by the so-called gentlemen, but I didn’t say that) with these two.

It’s always a laugh. They are our ‘pre-kid’ friends, so we have a history of misbehaviour and funny, funny nights together. Life is good when you have dudes like these two in your circle. Cheers B and S. (I haven’t called them that before, but I think I may start.)

4. This from my Instagram feed. I like it.

5. The kid’s school. We love the school holidays, the lazy days, the lack of schedules, all of the fun things we get to do together and don’t seem to have time to do during the normal week. As usual I was sad to see them go off on Tuesday morning, and wanted them back, but it is a relief and a balm to have such a lovely place to send them to. They both have gorgeous, caring and motivated teachers who really do look out for them and are helping us shape and guide them on their paths. Cheers to you school, and to you teachers.

What are your hits this week?

Did you see any bloody moon? And if so, can you send me a pick of it actually red?

…From The Ashers

Once upon a time, a boy decided to take two girls on an adventure walk.

The girls agreed, not because they liked walking, but because he assured them they would see something really cool at the end. They heard him say it was a lighthouse. The Cape Woolamai Lighthouse.

The weather was hot, the dry and scalding heat, without even a drop of cleansing humidity, that only Victoria can produce. The walk was long, made longer by the lack of air and the dense beach-scrub and the sand that shifted and sifted its way through the mesh of their fancy runners.

The girls whinged and complained and carried on about how long the walk was, and how this walk better be worth it and how damn hot they were. They looked straight ahead at the back of the boy’s head, or down at their feet, quietly grumping about how their runners were getting ruined by the sand, how boring this walk was.

They wanted to stop and go back many times, but they spurred themselves on by thinking about how good it would be once they got to the lighthouse. They imagined the view of the lighthouse glinting in the sun, bright white against the IBM blue of the sky. They imagined it would be worth it all. In the end.

By and by, and seven hundred and eighty-five whinges later, the boy turned around with a grin and a flourish. Here you go girls: gesturing to the sign.

Woolamai Light.

No house.

Just a light. On a pole. Like a streetlight, but not as interesting. It seemed that they had heard him incorrectly, so intent were they on the idea of something. Something that didn’t even exist.

NOT a lighthouse.
Image Source: K. Eggleston

The girls went through the stages: denial, anger, sadness. They told the boy off for tricking them and making them walk all this way, in this heat, for nothing but a light on a pole. They felt like they had been deceived. Completely ripped off.

So whilst they harangued the boy over the hoax, he just smiled and smiled until he finally said, “Happiness is a journey girls, not a destination.”

The girls went quiet.

And finally, they smiled too.

How is it for you, is happiness the journey, or the destination?

…From The Ashers

There are two children in this family, but sometimes by these posts you could think there was only one. The one who demands more time and attention. The one with all of the needs, that sometimes take over the other, more mundane requirements of a family. The squeaky wheel.

We also have a quiet wheel. A kid who has not given us a moment of trouble since the day he was born. Hang on, that isn’t strictly true- we had a day when he was about a month old called Black Sunday. I remember it well because there was stupid car racing on the telly, and Nathan wouldn’t turn it off, and the kid somehow got overtired and cried and cried and just WOULD NOT SLEEP for a whole day. That one day, I thought he might never sleep again. For those moments, I feared that this may never pass, and that my life would always be like this, with a crying child and a grumpy husband, that I would be pacing the house juggling the two of them forevermore. Then he fell asleep and it was all over, and I learned that he was the type of child who thrived on routine and structure and in knowing what was coming next. So I never varied from the predictable again.

So this baby who was soothed by schedules has become a boy who is independent and knows his own self. He knows what he likes, often before he even tries it, and he can be tricky to coerce into things he has already made up his mind about. So of course, because I am the mother and I worry about things that have not even happened yet, I try to modify that, to make him more open to change, to try new things, to do be okay with spontaneity (even though deep down I suspect it has “its time and its place”*)

That child also came on the bush walk.

His challenges were different to his sister’s. He found the actual activity easy, but he soon tired of the sameness that is the Australian bush. He said he felt like we were just walking around in circles, and that there had better be a good reward at the end of this trip, because the journey sure was boring. I almost laughed aloud at how similar we are. As his sister and father were looking up down and all around at all of the different trees and plants and trying to spot wildlife, we were stomping ahead, intent on ‘getting there’. For us the joy of the journey was in the arriving. We have a lot to learn, my boy and I, from those other two. (Remind me sometime to tell you the story of the Woolomi Lighthouse.)

Once we ‘arrived’ he immediately got prepared for the fun to start. He had seen a rope tied to a tree that someone had left behind, and he was keen to swing into the rock pools. I said to go ahead and do it, mainly because I didn’t think he would.

So I sat back and watched his preparations: testing the rope for strength and then for fastness. He then did three or four practice swings, swinging out over the water, making sure he had the distance right, the grip on the rope sufficient. He did things that I wouldn’t have thought to do. I asked him what made him consider all of these variables. “Standard safety checks, Mum,” was the reply.

Oh. Okay then. You would have thought it came with a manual.

Finally it was time for the real deal.

Got the camera on Mum? Check.

In video mode? Yes Liam, I said check.

Okay, here we go then.

I held my breath a little, still thinking he wouldn’t really do it, but holding it just in case he did, and cracked his head on the rocks or something, not wanting him to do it, yet really wanting him to dare to do something outside his comfort zone.

I didn’t video it.

He gave me a foul look (that I suspect I will see some more of in the years to come) gave the little sigh that leaks out when you have to deal with idiots, and prepared to do it again. For fun? No, for the camera. I pretended for a while that I still wasn’t getting the shot, just to make him do it over and over. All of the videos are almost exactly the same. He swings the same way every time, drops at the same moment, surfaces, and gives me a thumbs up. Mission accomplished.

Pretty much how he does his life.

When did you last do something that takes your breath away?

Are you trying to change someone’s ways because you think they could be better?

*A quote to run your life by right there: from the character, Alison, in “The Sure Thing”, sometime in the 80s.

Also: I would have loved to have shown you the video (which I did take) but I can’t figure out how to import it over here. Feel free to enlighten me WP nerds.

…From The Ashers

Things that ‘normal families’ do on weekends: go for long walks on the beach, play sport, go for bike rides.

Things that families with different kids do on weekends: go and be the test-patient in the doctors’ exams, prepare for transfusions, go and give thank-you talks at the blood bank, get interviewed and photographed for articles in the paper about the need for blood donations.

We have never been for a bush walk.

One of our kids is seven years old, and we have only just taken the pram out of the back of the car, because we never know when we might have to use it, when her little legs will seem to run out of oxygen, and she will need to be helped along for a while. Seven is too old to be in a pram- I know this because a lady once told me when we were at the shopping centre, so I didn’t take the pram so much after that, preferring to use a shopping trolley instead, regardless of whether or not I had any groceries.

This seven year old kid is also a strong-willed little thing, which means she wants to do the things that the other kids do. She wants to walk to the park, walk to the ferry stop, walk along the boardwalk. It’s just that sometimes she can’t. When she was little it wasn’t much of a problem if she couldn’t make it, as I was able to carry her. I did it so often my left arm is much bigger than my right, with bulging biceps and triceps. (Shame it didn’t help the tuckshop arms.)

When we went to Bali, all of the Wayans said that I was like a Balinese mother, carrying my child until she was grown up. I didn’t tell them it wasn’t by choice. I was a baby-wearer by default.

Sometimes in my weaker moments I wondered what would happen once she was too big for me to carry. Would we get a wheelchair, a motorised scooter, or would we just stay home?

This weekend was different.

This weekend we braved a bushwalk to Kondalilla Falls. We thought we would just go down to the rock pools at the little falls and that would be it, but the children wanted to go ‘all the way around’. We looked at each other nervously, and decided to give it a go. There were times when I thought she wouldn’t make it, and times when I thought her wobbly legs would make her trip, and fall over the edge of the path to some unknown.

There were some mishaps…Of course

She surprised me with her stamina and her tenacity, and it gave me an opportunity to talk to the kids about effort and resilience and about staying the course, even if things get tough. Most gratifying of all, I got to use the words of my gorgeous friend Sam Naudin, who embodied the spirit of all we were discussing: Never, never give up.

Beautiful

Sam would have loved this walk, this discussion, this life that we are so lucky to have before us for the grabbing. She loved a bit of “huff and puff” as she called it.

I like to think she whispered in Coco’s ear a couple of times, to help her keep on going.

It would have been just like her.

Coco found a heart rock for you Sam.

RIP Sam.

I think of you often. Coco said she wants to the National Park walk out to “Sam’s Gates” next. 

…From The Ashers xx

Sometimes I have all the feels, and all the things I want to write in a blog and I know it is better to swallow them all/ be quiet/ step away from the keyboard/ go and eat some leftovers/ because nothing that will come out will be palatable or user friendly or something anyone would like to read.

So there is no blog here today.

Sorry.

I guess I’ll be back tomorrow.

Hopefully with something nice to say.

…From The Ashers xx