My Blue Room

We paid our last respects to a long-time friend last week. We met Doug and his wife Jay in ’95 when we first walked in to their sandwich shop, The Grapevine. Best Works Burgers ever!! As time went on we bonded on the subject of minerals. He was an avid “fossicker” (rockhound) and though he never thought he was even good enough at it to teach his daughter, he was a brilliant gem faceter. A big man with a gentle spirit and a ready smile, no visit to the Tablelands was complete without walking in the shop and seeing the flash in his eyes and the genuine excitement in his voice. “The Americans are here!”

His health had declined, but all he was worried about was getting a hip replacement so he could get out digging in the gem fields again. This with a valve in his heart leaking, among other things! But finding and faceting the hidden treasures of the earth was one of life’s most precious pastimes for Doug. He loved the Lord and was just ecstatic whenever he laid eyes on one of His crystal creations. He showed us all the gems he had faceted, including a gorgeous dark blue sapphire in a ring Jay wears.
They were so beautiful together. They had been married for 40 years or thereabouts (in fact at the wake I saw a picture of them together at Jay’s debutante ball!) and we never saw a trace of anxiety between them, only working together with a quiet oneness that’s hard to describe. He was the outgoing one, always welcoming and drawing people out from themselves with his warm humor. She was quiet, maybe a little more serious by nature, and no matter how long it had been since we were there last, she always remembered our names with a smile. How many, many times did she pass a plate over the counter, looking directly in my eyes like I was the most important person in the world. They moved together like two perfectly meshed gears. Their young daughters also became friends of ours as they took turns working with their parents. Now they’ve grown into beautiful young women with their own children.

We are so thankful that we were able to see him before this happened. Though my husband and son went to see him one more time after I did, my own last memory of him is captured in the photo I took as we left his house, Doug standing on the balcony with his granddaughter Morgan, saying goodbye to us while somehow showering her with adoration at the same time. Little did I know it would be the last time, but I could have gotten a clue from the fact that every other picture I took that day came out blurry. Jay told me he printed it out after I emailed it to him, laminated it and made it one of the coasters for daily use on the kitchen table (where he sat with those who came to visit). I was honored that it made one of the collages of photos the family hung up in the dining room of the pub where we gathered in his wake.
At the wake, her daughter Hayley said Mom, you’re so composed, I just don’t know how you’re holding it together. When we were singing “My Best Friend” at the end of the funeral I completely came apart, but there you were, singing with such calmness. She replied, Honey, I can still hear him singing with me. I blinked as the tears stung my eyes. She was glowing, radiantly beautiful as her new role as matriarch settled softly, comfortably around her shoulders. We sat in the midst of probably 200 people, friends and family who had traveled from all across Australia to say goodbye to Doug, yet Jay took the time to sit and share with me. Holding my hands and connecting firmly by a tunnel between our eyes, she took me on a journey of their marriage and memories that swept the activity around us away and silenced all other sound as their past together came to life in my mind. Such a moment… I will always be grateful that she gave my life such importance as to take that moment with me. This is what makes life rich, and she definitely changed me in that short span of time. Well, maybe not so short! There were people lining up to visit with her themselves by the time we became aware of our surroundings again. Coming back this time from HER blue room…For a second I felt terribly selfish until she took me in her arms and kissed me with a smile in her eyes. “Thank you, Hannah” Maybe it’s not just a gift they have, this making one feel so special. Maybe that moment really was as important for her as it was for me.


There is always more that can be said. We try to say it all, but how can we encapsulate the life of a man and all that he meant to us in mere words? His daughters did the best that can be done with the gift of poetic expression, another facet of the legacy Doug left them:
Hayley wrote…

I was shocked on Friday morning when the sun came up. I wondered how it could have the audacity to do such a thing; to reinforce that this loss is real. It is this reality that makes us aware of the love that we had for Dad and the love he had for us.

As a husband, father and pop, he was second to none. Dad never gave us advice on how to be good parents; he didn’t have to. Cindy, Dean and I do not have to worry about ever needing parenting advice from Dad. He did his job in educating us so well that we already have the entire parenting map in our heads just from growing up in our house.
Sunday mornings meant Dad cooking breakfast with Charley Pride on the record player. Birthdays often meant on one of Dad’s hilarious poems scribbled on whatever was on the table at the time. His ability to find humor in any situation has always made our house a happy one. Making his grandkids smile was paramount to Dad. For them he has defined what laughter is.

The marriage that Mum and Dad have enjoyed had shown us all not only how to love but how to be loved. I thank Mum for so freely sharing him with us.

We could not have asked more from Dad. He has always given us more than required. He has enriched our lives and left us with all we need to continue on.

And still, the sun keeps coming up.

There’s always something, isn’t there? It’s almost a week since my birthday and other, perhaps more interesting, things that have happened before and since are loading up behind it…

When we first arrived in Australia, our friends Dave and Annie were so excited that after six years, finally “the Americans are coming!,” that they decided to give us a welcome party. Thanks to them we met people who have become new friends that night, and Annie and I learned that our birthdays are only one day apart in the same year. She immediately made plans for a mutual birthday party the night of October 11. An added pleasure was another to share our birthday, a “truckie” named Jeff, whose birthday is the 12th. We had a nice time, mostly sitting by the bonfire Dave made, eating a little barbie (q) and having fun with a triple – cutting of the cake they made with all three of our names on it. I was so happy our new friends Jan and Roger, who moved to the area about 11 years ago, were there, and they surprised me with a little ceramic bowl handmade by Jan. She’s been doing pottery professionally for a long time – her work is so beautiful, I really wish she had a website I could link to so you could see. I was so touched by their thoughtfulness, and Jan and I had a lovely conversation by the fire.

The next day was mostly quiet. I caught up on some much-needed rest – a gift in itself – and counted the minutes until the gift I had been anticipating since we arrived: the first episode of “First Australians”, a documentary about the history of Australia and the impact of its colonization on Australia’s native inhabitants. Those who know me also know how much I care about all indigenous people and their struggles, and how I love ethnic cultures, so you’ll understand why 5 months of waiting for this had me in such a state of suspense. SBS did it again. While this isn’t really the place to try to recount it all, their website is featuring playbacks of the episodes that have already aired, and I highly recommend that if you share my interest in Aborigine history and culture you check it out here: http://www.sbs.com.au/firstaustralians/ They are showing two new episodes each week, and there are now two you can watch, with a new one coming up Sunday night.

Following were highlights of the the 14th annual Deadly Awards, recognizing excellence in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander music, sport, entertainment, the arts and community achievement. – held at the sydney Opera House, this is the first time it’s been broadcast on tv. I was so impressed by the expression of these culturally rich people. Whether in traditional forms or contemporary ones, they all had wonderfully individual styles. When they introduced the nominees for band of the year, I decided that I wanted a cd from each of them! From elegant country music icon Jimmy Little, hailed by his colleagues as “the gentleman of the Australian music industry”(who presented the Lifetime Achievement Award and sang a beautiful song about talking to Jesus) to beautiful/cute and very talented pop-hiphop artist Jessica Mauboy, from aborigine rap Black Arm Band to the sweet, angelic voice and left-handed guitar of blind Gurrumul Yunupingu, accompanied by strings, I fell in love with them all!  Gurrumul opened the show with his performance and took home three awards: Single of the year, Album of the year and Artist of the year  – check out his MySpace page here:http://www.myspace.com/gurrumul. He’s also been nominated for 4 Aria awards, where he will also perform this Sunday evening 10/19. See more at http://www.deadlys.vibe.com.au/

Then came the 13th. Another quiet day, and I turned my thoughts toward the future. As I stood at the door to the back yard looking at the trippy orchids growing in the tree just outside, along came a King parrot, which we have only seen once before here. He landing in the tree and began to sing to me, looking right at me, then flew down to the laundry line and tight-rope-walked all the way to the end, about two feet from me, singing all the way! After checking me out closely he flew across the yard, then back again to the tree, still singing. A sweet voice, not like you’d expect from a parrot. A rare and precious gift. Funny that the day and the hour matched exactly that of my birth in the States. Somehow I felt as if our friend Chala had stopped by to sing his happy birthday song to me.

A few days have gone by since, and yesterday Chala’s nephew Bawala (Sonny) rang to share his new poem with us. He is undergoing a transformation in the wake of the passing of his beloved Chala, and the connection he made with my husband and son seems to be intertwined with this, so he’s in touch nearly every day. He told Joel he felt that something else was trying to come forth from within him…what was it? Another poem? What? They hung up without an answer, the day went on a bit, and the guys left to run an errand. While they were away he rang again, asking what kind of day it was here. I told him it was clouds and sun, and a moment ago there was a little shower that came and went. He said, Those showers are a blessing, they rain on you softly, then go away. Then he told me he had figured out the strange feeling – today was Chala’s birthday! So profound that they had buried him on Sonny’s birthday, September 27th, and here we are, only 20 days later remembering his birthday (10/17/1917 – they think…no birth certificate and family members say he was probably over 100 actually).  I told him about the parrot and how strongly I had thought of Chala when he was singing to me. He said, yep, it was probably was him, visiting me so I wouldn’t feel left out by not being able to come to his funeral and meet his people. He was like that. Later in the evening I made crepes and lit a candle, and we thanked him for including us in his last ceremony and making us part of his family, and for all the beautiful experiences we have had as a result.

Now I have turned 45.

Technorati Tags: Australia, aborigines, Chala, king parrot, art, music, culture, birthday, friends, Deadly, Deadly Awards, Gurrupul Yurupingu, Jessica Mauboy, Jimmy LIttle

Where we stay at the Baines’, we live downstairs in the basement, which has been finished into a beautiful gallery filled with James’ incredible work. Since I’ve been so busy and the guys are away, I wind up spending most of my time down here and don’t venture upstairs much until it’s time to cook. Well, the other night I ran out of milk and, since I planned to work late, really needed some for a cup of joe. I went upstairs around 8pm with the amber glass creamer Lea lent me for just his sort of thing, went into the frig and opened a new thing of milk, only to have Lea come in and tell me there was an open one on the counter, and I had just opened her upstairs visitor’s milk! Well, Kay walked in right behind her and consoled me. She and her elderly mum had been there a couple of days as mum needed to go to hospital for some tests, and we had met briefly, but aside from some friendly exchanges hadn’t made a connection. Boy did that change! Three and a half hours later I felt like she was my older sister as we exchanged a kiss and hug goodnight…
Kay is an artist who lives in Cooktown, and it turns out she’s close with an aborigine man and his wife who live nearby. Ronnie is the son of a certain tribe’s medicine man, Jack, and she had a deep friendship with him for many years until his recent passing at age 97. This paints some of the picture of what this woman’s beautiful heart is like, but there’s more. The elder chief of Jack’s tribe was Peter, whose funeral was just a week and a half ago (he was 100). As it happens, my husband and son arrived at their mate’s place just as the tribe was congregating – yes, right there – from all across Australia to pay their respects and see him over to the spirit world. As fate would have it, their mate, and his mate too – who came all the way from Singapore for the funeral – were adopted (read:white) sons of Peter’s. They all got right down to making friends, Thomas and Joel completely overwhelmed by the beauty of each one (including one man who was 130 years old!). They made a special, deep connection with Peter’s natural son, too.

As we talked til late in the night, once again I felt the Spirit swirling around us, joining us in that way which cannot be described with words. We touched upon so many subjects – art, tribal culture and healing, poverty and prejudice, old friends and family, Jack’s funeral, her last visit with Peter in hospital, and what it really means to walk with God. When I walked downstairs with my now-warm jug of milk, it was very thoughtfully, and sleep didn’t come easy with the many colorful images now in my mind. The next morning she shared with me pictures, video and audio files (she also plays the flute) of her varied works, her home and views of Cooktown as her dog Karma lay at my feet. I just cannot seem to put into words how deep it all sank into my heart, and that fast!

After taking her mum down to Cairns the next morning for her tests (the results of which were good, thankfully) and spending the night there, she came all the way back up here to see if she could bring me up to where the tribe is (and my husband!), or at least part of the way. It didn’t work out due to the timing on the other end (read: red slippery clay road, so no-one travelling down to meet us just then), but I was so moved by her choice to do this, driving up the Gillies range (you just can’t imagine how many twisting curves there are in that highway) an hour out of her way, and poor thing, she was so tired. Love and selflessness are such amazing, powerful forces, and Kay’s got them both! I now have a new sister…and so do we all.

I had spoken with Peter’s son on the phone a few days earlier, telling him how much I wanted to be there, though I knew my place was here for some reason I wasn’t quite sure of. He said that the presence of my closest family and my own heart’s desire placing me there in spirit embroidered me into the fabric of the tribe. And Kay put the finishing touches on this work, our crossing of paths in Lea’s kitchen finally convincing me it was true, showing me why I was here and not there.

We are one, family both from the loins of Noah and the blood of Christ, one blood, one spirit, one Creator whom we all love with one heart. It’s all true.

Except for those who excuse themselves.

Technorati Tags: Australia, Cooktown, artists, friends, sisters

We first met Vivian when our host, James Baines, did a painting seminar (which she attended) in Tully, Queensland, about 6 years ago. We had a wonderful conversation and we never forgot her, yet when she showed up in the Baines’ kitchen a couple of months ago I was shocked, because when we met her she was the owner/editor of the Tully newspaper and I had no idea anything had changed. Well, that wasn’t all, her husband had passed away, she sold the paper, her daughter got married, she built a house on her property here outside Malanda and had taken up permanent residence there a little more than a year ago. She looked great! Her husband had been sick for a long time and,  though she missed him, with this weight lifted she had a new, vivacious light in her eyes…We had another short, but sweet conversation and she invited me to come visit her new home.

Well, my clients back home have been very good to me since I’ve been here and have kept me very busy, so I didn’t make it over there until a few days ago. It turned out to be serendipity, and the timing was perfect in every way. She picked me up and took me there, where her Rhodesian Ridgeback, Pagan (I’m the Christian, she’s the pagan, said Vivian, laughing) greeted me as if she’d known me forever. First she showed me the studio she’d built. Have to admit, it would make any artist green with envy! I was.
On our way to the house she showed me the work she was doing with her garden beds. She’s been adjusting to living alone by making her home and grounds just what she’s always wanted. Although the beds are young, I could see that once her plants mature it’s going to be gorgeous. When I’m done painting with dirt and flowers, I’ll get busy in the studio, she told me with a smile. Once inside, Vivian made a pot of Chai and we sat down at the table in a glassed-in veranda with incredible views of the Atherton Tablelands, which that day were crowned with a blue sky and scudding clouds. The wind blew as we talked about everything under the Sun, from her late husband to matters of faith, reincarnation, resurrection and the Lord’s return…the phone rang…she came back talking about the prayer meeting the Spirit himself organized, called people to, sustained, then ended without any effort on anyone else’s part…then there was the aborigine man she sat next to in the Full Gospel Businessman’s Fellowship she used to attend…another pot of Chai…then she was sharing experiences she’d had as a child and with her own children, then her daughter’s recent wedding in England. We sauntered into the kitchen for a chicken sandwich at one point, still talking, only now it was the book of Ezekiel and UFO’s. And there was more, so much more, we talked for…for…five and a half hours! Time seemed to stand still and the Universe swirled around us as our connection grew deeper and deeper. magic. I knew I needed pictures of her beautiful surroundings and of course, of Vivian, so we went outside and snapped a few, then she brought me home. I was so overwhelmed I lay down for a siesta, dreaming of blue skies and Pagan’s eyes, politely asking for bits of biscuit at Vivian’s table.

Technorati Tags: Australia, Queensland, Atherton, Tablelands, artists, studio, friends