Australia Day

"No occasion in our history echoes the hopes, values and sentiments of Australians more than the day on which our nation rejected the foreign injustices of our past and asserted our own belief that, in this country, we are all born equal."

Above is a sentence from the profile for a Facebook group called 'Move Australia Day to May 27'.

The creator, along with 137 members and AFL legend Ron Barassi, feel that the date of the 1967 referendum should be the appropriate day to celebrate our national pride.

I have two issues with this proposal.

The first relates to the importance placed on the 1967 referendum. There is no argument that it was a significant moment in the lives of Aboriginal Australians. For the first time the Commonwealth government was allowed to make laws specifically regarding them and they were to be included in any future national census. A significant occasion without doubt but still only another step in a long struggle to be recognised as human beings in their own nation. They like all other Australians had been citizens of Australia since 1948 when Australian citizenship became differentiated from being a British subject and their right to vote was confirmed by the Commonwealth in 1949 although it took to the early 60s before they were allowed to vote in all State elections.

Since 1967 there has been Mabo and Wik and Keating's Redfern speech and finally the Apology. All significant moments in a journey that continues. A journey that one day may include proper compensation or a treaty. I don't think we can grab the 27th of May 1967 and say it was the singularly most important day in that journey.

My second issue is that it would seem to be replacing one exclusive day with another. How does white Australia's relationship with Aboriginal Australia affect how somebody of Vietnamese, Lebanese or Sudanese heritage sees themselves in their new country? Yes it is now a part of their common heritage as Australians but does it compare in significance with the abolition of the White Australia policy under the Whitlam and Fraser governments? Surely those reforms could be equally seen as when "our nation rejected the foreign injustices of our past and asserted our own belief that, in this country, we are all born equal."

I must admit that Australia Day in its present form holds little significance for me. I appreciate the chance to burn meat on an open flame and drink beer but I don't do that with any more nationalistic verve than I do on any other day.

If we do indeed need a day to celebrate what is, despite its many failings, quite a bloody good place to live then I have two suggestions.

Either we actually grow up as a nation and become a republic giving ourselves a fantastic opportunity to change the date amongst other things, or we change the date to the day we officially became a nation, January 1st.

But I suspect that would get howled down because that already is a public holiday. And there my friends is the rub.

Down

When Girl O' Sand told me about the phenomenon of post-wedding day depression I laughed. I obviously laughed too soon. I have had a horrible week of feeling sorry for myself. I think that the cases that Girl O' Sand read about were more about the revelation that you were no longer the centre of attention. I can see how that could become addictive but for me it is different.

For a couple of days last week every single person in the world that is special to me lived in Melbourne, but then they left.

As much as I love Girl O' Sand I really need my mates as well. Maybe it is just that I am so tired from the months of preparation. Perhaps it will all be well once we have our week of laying on a beach. Maybe I just have too much time on my hands. Uni going back will fix that.

I hope this doesn't last too long.

Why doesn't everybody want to live in Melbs?

Wife, wife, wife

I am now a husband.

I referred to Girl O' Sand twice today as wife. Both times to complete strangers. I loved the way the word formed in my mouth but still I doubted whether I was able to use such a term. It still seems a touch unreal. The simple gold band on my finger is still foreign and I find myself toying with it often. It is not uncomfortable, just different.

I will comment on the big day properly later but now I am too full of fine Greek food to concentrate. The Hellenic Republic is a new restaurant near us and we took The Father-In-Law there tonight, in part to thank him for a very generous wedding gift. The food was great and the Greek wine was like a fine pinot but just a touch different. Exceptional. A fantastic night was had by all. An interesting man the FIL. I like him a lot.

Do I need to sleep?

I do not want to go to sleep because when I wake up it will be my wedding day. I love Girl O' Sand so much and I do not doubt that we are doing the right thing but I am very nervous about the day itself. We have planned so long for this. What if we have forgotten something? I must find some way of relaxing and just enjoy the day. Sleep might help.

Helplessness

So mother arrived at our house as crook as Rookwood, as they would say in the Emerald City. A severe case of travel sickness laid her very low. A trip to a doctor was required for a shot. We hadn't had to deal with Melbourne's medical fraternity prior to this but I was lucky to find a wonderful doctor in Northcote. She was so friendly and helpful. I can really understand how dramas occur at medical institutions. The sense of helplessness is quite intense when somebody you love is in distress but there is nothing you can do. Luckily for me mother was fixed up quick sticks and today was back to her perky best.

I on the other hand was anything but perky. So very tired. We did achieve a lot today. The assistance we received from everybody around us was incredible. I have some misgivings about asking people to back up again tomorrow but they seem to really enjoy it. The love of friends and family is incredible. We have a new crew of assistants arriving as well. Fresh cannon fodder for the battle which is the marriage of Man O' Sand to Girl O' Sea.

Only 1 sleep. Shit.

The eye of the storm

Well I survived the bucks with but a few bruises and a day of up and down emotions on the Monday due to the after effects of chemical indulgence. I am obviously not as young as I once was.

I am experiencing a very brief period where I can sit down and relax. Girl O' Sand is off being beautified and enjoying high tea with her mother and sisters. OFITW, who looked after me so very well on the weekend, is again reveling in his role as best-of-men by playing taxi driver to numerous out of town arrivals. The fact that he had never been to our fine metropolis prior to last evening has not held him back. He is attacking the streets with gusto. His only fear is having to do a hook turn in the city but I cannot fault him for that as I am yet to perform one of those manoeuvres.

His latest venture is to pick up my parents from the airport. I am tired and a little grumpy. Never a good state of mind in which to face my mother. It will be hard. I wish Girl O' Sand was here.

2 sleeps to go.

Another reason I am glad I don't live in The Swich

So it is almost time for me to hop on a plane to Sydney for my buck's weekend. Suddenly it all seems so real. We have prepared for the wedding for so long that it has seemed a touch unreal up until now. It has just been Girl O' Sand and myself working on little projects like dresses and rings and booze. All of it concerning just the two of us but now others are becoming involved. It isn't just us sharing some sort of delusion, it is real.

In the area where I grew up, a fairly typical outer suburban satellite city which we will call The Swich, the stories of buck's parties generally involved considerable consumption of the local lager, a young lady who performed a burlesque cabaret act and the groom-to-be making the acquaintance of the local constabulary. The interaction with Queensland's finest generally occurred when they came across the lucky fellow naked and chained to a post on a major intersection. These stories may be apocryphal, I was fortunate enough to leave said city without experiencing one of these fun night's out, but the frequency with which they are told would have me believe them.

Most of the attrocities seemed to be the work of the groom's "best man". Now being the inclusive chap that I am, I have three best men. Each an old and dear friend and somewhat symbolic of, but certainly not restricted to, certain stages of my life. Hank Five, has been an amigo since my mid-teens, Ambrose, was one of my first friends I made in the scary new world of Sydney in my mid-twenties, and Oldest Friend In The World (OFITW), is just that. We were childhood next-door-neighbours and I cannot remember life without him being in it. Unfortunately due to the tyranny of distance Hank Five cannot make it this weekend. Ambrose is the sensitive type and being the father of a one year old has no energy for shennanigans anyway, so I fear not his presence. OFITW is another case though. Still a single man he is always keen for various forms of indulgence and, despite having left The Swich as a teenager, he is well indoctrinated to its social customs. He has assured me that all conduct will be discreet and modest but still I must keep my wits about me.

It occurred to me today that I had often day dreamed about my buck's party, as part of the much larger getting married day dream. I often drift off into my own imaginary world. I think it often involved the private room at Tetsuya's and lots of great booze. Alas that is not to be. Far too expensive. Instead it is going to be paintball, something I have always wanted to try, a few beers in a sunny beer garden somewhere and a big feed of Chinese. It should be fun. Unfortunately some very good friends cannot make it from interstate but I will get to see them all next week.

Sunday hopefully will be spent in the water at Bondi, the place where I feel most alive.

The vows

So now the vows are locked in. I am actually quite happy with them. I have never considered myself any sort of poet so writing our own were never really an option for me. I lack the focus needed. I am a rambler, as any reader of this blog would be aware. We cut and pasted and now have something which seems to have suitable gravitas.

Deciding on the wording of the vows has made me think about how important those six lines of text are. I have never made a vow that I intended to keep before. Being a confirmed atheist is fine as an adult but I found that after making the realisation that I was a godless heathen as a 12 year old, I needed to make the right sounds to keep the powers at be (ie my mother and various members of Catholic religious orders) happy. My fingers were often crossed. I plan to keep my hands in full sight during our ceremony.

We even had a dry run of the service today in order to get the musical timing right. I almost teared up and I don't think it would have taken much for Girl O' Sand to do the same. We will both be a mess on the day I suspect.

I am presently trying to lock in the musical selection for the moments when the band is not playing. How do I keep everybody happy and on the dance floor? Let's just say the selection will be eclectic and I am constantly trying to smother my inner music snob. I am sure I will not remember a moment single note after the night. As long as everybody has fun I will be happy.

10 sleeps to go.

An interesting period

The days are getting fewer. Only 15 till the wedding. The last two weeks have gone so fast.

Life has been up and down a bit lately. Xmas and the stresses of counting down to the big day will do that to you.

Unfortunately Girl O' Sand and myself broke out good run and had our first real fight. A combination of lack of sleep, wedding stresses and too much boozing on my part. Thankfully we sorted it out quickly but I do not want to go through that too often. Over indulgence on my part has probably been a bit too regular in recent weeks.

A high point of the recent past has been a visit by The Low Five. They hitched the Hyundai to our post for a couple of days. Lil' Anton once again proved that a 7 year old can be the smartest one in the room. He may never get the chance to pull on the baggy green for Australia but if his current cricket fixation continues I can see him dissecting the game in print in a way that the likes of Roebuck and Haigh can only dream about.

It was nice to get a chance to chat about writing with Hank Five. We don't often get the chance to talk face to face anymore. I just finished reading his Masters work as well. I found it very uncomfortable to read in parts but I think that is what he meant it to be, especially for those that know him well. It is an ambitious bit of writing. If it wasn't for his explanation I think a lot of it might have been lost on me but I hope I do understand at least some of it properly. The pressure is now on him to reproduce the quality in his best-man's speech.

The countdown continues.